Dear Social Work,
You are a field that doesn’t lend itself well to giving an “elevator speech,” so people regularly have no true idea of who you are. Your elusive nature causes you to be regularly ignored on television programs and in film, though others sometimes masquerade as if your work is within the confines of their own jobs. You are sometimes confusing and often cause me to turn to peers for guidance on how to handle you. I’m pretty sure that my mother thinks I could have chosen a safer option, or at least one that affords me a more lavish lifestyle. Sometimes, when I come home, there is nothing less I’d rather think about than you, though sometimes you refuse to let me rest. People regularly question why we’re together. They suggest that I might be crazy, but thanks to you and that gorgeous DSM of yours, I know I’m not… though I admit, I’ve recognized pieces of myself (and almost everyone I know) in so many of your pages.
No matter where I am or what time of day it is, I am aware of your presence in my life. Occasionally, I contemplate leaving you for another, but then I realize that it would be a silly notion to think that I could really just up and leave. At the end of the day, I know one thing for certain; we’re enmeshed. You are a part of everything I do, everything I believe in, and everything I fight for. You are my reason for getting out of bed in the morning (Monday-Friday, at least), you are my reason for falling asleep at night (good Lord, you’re exhausting).
I just wanted you to know that, for reasons sometimes even I can’t explain, I’m glad we found each other. I anticipate a long future together, one that’s full of 3-minute lunches between clients, getaways to the steps of Capitol buildings, and more surprises than I can even imagine.
Thanks for everything,
~Kryss
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