Three years ago, I was sitting at a kitchen table with a family that I had just lived through a disaster with, and we all were coming to terms with what it meant for us, moving forward. At that same kitchen table, some handful of months later, I asked them if they thought I would be capable of working in disaster recovery, if it was something that they could see me doing in pursuit of social work. They had kind of laughed, as if it was clear, and had said, “It seems like you already know.” And now looking back on it, it seems like I had, but I was just scared to take the leap.
Now, I find myself doing just that, aiding in whatever ways I can, but truly learning and grasping what it means to be someone in this field through this semester at ASP. In no particular order I have learned: how much of this really is in our control and how a majority really isn’t; what construction terminology means and how deep crawlspaces really are; what it feels like to hold someone’s hand as they talk you through their life changing from the impact of disaster; what it means to look out at a place and see the change in environment from impact; how your first ever Bojangles taste better with sweet tea; how special little hardware stores are; how hard it is to dig out a trench for footing for three hours, and in that same vein, how hard it is it obtain funding and grants to make sure that trench gets dug out; how much leadership can be ignited in young people; how hard videography is; what resources look like in rural Appalachia and how special the people are out here; how music always sounds better with the windows rolled down in a pick-up truck.
I’ve learned and cultivated a lot in this semester, and I like to think in some way, I was able to pour back into the people who poured into me. On the way home one day after work, Tyler pointed out to the mountains, naming off all the homes that I helped with, surrounding us at that moment. And it hit me how special that is – to be able to say that I helped put a home on the ground for someone.
This isn’t really a goodbye, nor is it a send-off, more of a love letter, to the person I became throughout this semester, thanks to all the lives and homes that touched mine. I went from someone who had been impacted myself, to someone who turned that energy into a force of helping, and in that, I have grown and healed so much. Social work, disaster recovery, construction, helping – it is all related and it is all relative. One cannot exist without the other, the people in the offices helping, and the people on the ground helping – humans need humans. And nothing has proven that to me more than working in disaster recovery. You get to see the absolute best of humanity and how everyone has a part to play in that circle.
If anything, this whole experience has shown me how full circle everything can be. It has shown me that puzzle pieces can click into place if you allow them too, and in this big, big world, we all have a part to play, and it is critical we play that part. From the tree huggers, to the people on the ground, to the writers, to the people aiding in funding and resources, to the photographers, and those who keep us fed, to the speakers, to the transportation guides, and those on the frontlines – it all connects, if you let it, if you realize that maybe, everyone is trying their best to make it to the next day, and social work – at the end of the day – is all about that.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s about taking a leap of faith too. Maybe it’s about wearing your heart on your sleeve, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, trusting that other people will catch you, and letting it all come in with the light.
Thank you for letting me write this blog this last semester, as writing has always been special to me, something I hope to continue to do. Like I said, this isn’t really a goodbye, but rather a see you soon. Until then… keep being the light…and go take that leap of faith.
–
Chloe B.
Social Work Intern
