I`m nearing the end of a short-term stint with a local agency serving those afflicted with substance misuse, poverty, bodily afflictions, trauma or mental illness — and in many cases all the above. Nobody’s here’s to pass the time. Nobody’s here to talk about the weather unless they need a tent and bug spray.
These folks come broken and burdened. About half are unhoused, living in wooded areas, abandoned structures or the backseat of somebody else’s car. Nearly all are involved with the justice system, and lack anything approaching a circle of support.
The essentials of food and sleep are always in short supply for the many. Even those with jobs struggle to hold body and soul together on minimum wage. And job or not, it’s hard to fall asleep when you’re dope sick for opiates, or the kids just ate the last of the beans for supper.
People come through these doors looking for some combination of help and hope. Here’s a toothbrush and bus passes, now tell me how things have gone since I saw you last week. Here’s a laundry voucher — ‘so proud you put together four days clean, now how can I help you make it to five?
Staff talk about the present because the present is what their clients can humanly handle. No Freudian dissection of your childhood, no precise six-month treatment plan. Just what brought you to us today, and let’s see if we can make things a little easier if not better.
To that end, the weekly peer group is really a vessel for pain, some relenting and some not even close. There’s the occasional bullshitting about having it all together, but that’s not the norm. Turns out living that close to the edge for that long tends to eliminate the need for niceties and appearances.
But there are two reasons for concern for all these hardy souls. Safety is a near constant worry for many of the clients served by the agency. Away from the campus, personal items are regularly stolen, confrontations occasionally break out, debts are collected, and women and queer folx are at particular risk for physical and sexual assault.
Add to these day-to-day anxieties two legal developments setting clients’ nerves on edge: The current local ban on dispensing clean syringes, which undercuts all attempts at harm reduction programs; and sporadic “drug sweeps” conducted by city and county law enforcement, netting scores more users than manufacturers or sellers.
In response, staff can’t help but absorb their share of all the suffering and worrying. The woes of the otherwise invisible are placed at their doorstep Monday through Friday. Hearts grow heavy. So, schedules are cleared to help with urgent situations. Breaks are sometimes cut short, because that client won’t talk with anybody else. And power brokers making vapid policies affecting their clients are likely to come in for a pretty fair cussing. Bottom line is nobody’s getting rich, but that was never the goal.
If, like me, you’re not sure about the point here, I think it has to do with the power of recognition. Of learning to recognize in depth a name, a face and a story we know will stretch, maybe even haunt us. Of figuring out a way to capture that human connection, then lend an ear, a hand and a voice.
Postscript: Service agencies everywhere are in need of volunteers. Find out which align with your passions and values, and check them out.
Don Rollins is a Unitarian Universalist minister living in Hendersonville, N.C. Email donaldlrollins@gmail.com.
From The Progressive Populist, October 1, 2022
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