By: Katie Wright
Some days, empathy overwhelms me.
Empathy is the key to good social work. It is being able to put yourself in someone else’s position and feel what they feel. Some social workers have to work very hard to hone these skills. I have to work very hard to keep my boundaries and to not let my empathy affect me.
I am an empath. I take on the emotions of people around me and I often feel these emotions very deeply. My mom calls me an “emotional sponge.” I do not pick and choose who affects me and when, but I am working on limiting the depth of the effect on my heart. Sometimes though, people surprise me and catch me off guard.
One morning while at a retirement/long-term care facility, my colleague and I went for the SKIP visit that was cancelled due to a city-wide school closure. Liz asked if I would feel comfortable bringing my guitar to one of the local homes and playing music for the residents in place of their SKIP visit with the kids that day. My mom helped me put together a senior’s inspired set list, I packed up my guitar and laptop, and we made our way to the facility. We set up, I played guitar and sang for about an hour, and most of the seniors were smiling, singing along, and enjoying themselves. All of the seniors except for one.
I will use a pseudonym for the senior I had an experience with. To protect her right to confidentiality, I will call her “Gail.”
Gail was sitting in the front row. As we were packing up and getting ready to leave, Gail was talking. She was saying things like “I want to get out of here,” “I want to go home,” “Where is my family? I want to be with them,” and “I wish they were here.” I couldn’t help myself from stopping. She was so sad. She kept repeating herself and staring at her feet, so I knelt down to her level, took her hand, and began to speak with her. I listened to Gail repeat herself about who she wanted to see and where she wanted to go while she gently stroked my hand with her thumb. Gail had the softest and gentlest hands I have ever touched. She didn’t look up at me when I told her that there was nothing I could do… I certainly couldn’t make her family appear, nor do I have the authority to let her leave the building. I told her that she had lots of friends around her and that they were like family, but this was no use either.
Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have done as a social worker or student. I told her that she was loved. I told Gail that her family loves her, the staff and friends at her facility love her, and that I love her. I immediately doubted myself in my professionalism — in that moment, I was just a person made vulnerable by her sadness. She made eye contact with me at this point and her beautiful pale blue eyes began to get misty. I remember saying “we all need to hear an ‘I love you’ at least once a day, and I’m glad I could do that for you. I love you.” I felt like I was back-tracking to save face at this point, but I also felt that I had given her something valuable: hope. I gave in to my empathy and it overrode all of the training I have been receiving these last few years.
For a moment, she was out of her sadness. It was like it was just her and I in that room, holding hands and gazes. She smiled. She told me her name and asked about mine. She was completely coherent and we had a lovely conversation for a few moments before my colleague and I left. We had truly connected, because I was able to recognize, acknowledge and feel her sadness with her — something I am not sure I could do without so much raw empathy.
At the heart of it, this is what SKIP is about — combating social isolation and reminding people of hope. I could feel the sorrow that Gail felt in my own heart like it was being transmuted through our touching fingertips. I absorbed some of her energy like a sponge absorbs water. Now I’m left a little shaken by this interaction, and feel like I need to wring out my emotional sponge. After practicing a little self-care ritual to do that “wringing out” I feel much more balanced and centered. I am still affected by meeting Gail today. I am still affected by her loneliness, but it drives me forward to know that today I made her a little less lonely. I’m a little less lonely today because I met her. I felt that loneliness deep in my core when we were together and brought it home with me to contemplate and unpack, as we were working from home following the visit. I could not shake the sense of connection I had to Gail in those brief moments.
I understand that perhaps Gail suffers from Alzheimer’s or dementia — after all, we were in the long-term care wing of this facility. Maybe her family had been there the day before, and they visit her all the time. That did not change the loneliness she felt in that moment. Maybe she has all of her cognitive faculties and knows that her family doesn’t visit her and that she dislikes her current home. I didn’t have the time to find out. I saw another person hurting and did what I could to soothe her pain in that moment.
Whether I am a student, professional, or social worker, I rely on my heart to tell me what to do. I told her I loved her because love is the antidote to loneliness. I’ve talked about relational theory before and works well in this situation. For a brief moment, we had a strong relationship that I hope had a positive effect on Gail. This relationship had a strong impact on me and still does, but the relationship is both positive and negative. The negative is that my heart full of compassion and empathy breaks for her. On the other hand, the positive is that this interaction has fueled a passionate fire against social isolation in the elderly population.
Thank you Gail, for reminding me why programs like SKIP are important in my life and the lives of others. I’m glad I could be there for you in that moment.
Love, Katie.
