The ability to feel

There are some things that I've gotten used to, and that have become the norm for me, while I've been doing this line of work. I've been noticing it a lot recently, and it's nothing that should be considered a "norm" for anyone. I know I still have an extreme amount of passion for what I do and the people I help--but I'm beginning to think that I'm becoming numb to the situations and stories that I hear on a daily basis. Some may say that this is a good thing, and that the job won't be as emotionally hard as it is, but I'm worried that I'm going to lose my sense of feelings. I never want to lose the ability to feel.

The first thing that I've become used to is the question "Are you homeless?" Well, it isn't necessarily the question, but the answer "yes." I expect this answer when I ask it to someone during the day. What's worse is the question that follows that: "Where did you sleep last night?" I expect them to say "under the bridge" or "in an abandoned building," or anywhere else that is not meant for human habitation. When they answer, if I'm interviewing them, it's just a check-in-the-box situation. To me, it's disgusting that I have to expect that people are living in abandoned buildings and under the bridge and that it's become such a norm for me and that it's not a novelty living situation anymore. Here in New Orleans, I've met more people who are homeless, than people who are housed.

Another norm to me is abandoned buildings, shacks, and damaged neighborhoods. I am fortunate enough to live in a great apartment in a great neighborhood. However many neighborhoods that I travel through still haven't recovered from Katrina. I've become immune to seeing structural damage and hearing about our clients sleeping in these places. It's become so bad, that when I went home to see the damage of Sandy, it didn't phase me as much as it should have, because I see hurricane damage so often. All I wanted to do when I was on the beach was cry, and I couldn't.

Another thing is how I refer to clients when speaking about them, or how we all refer to them. The other day I found myself saying, "He has AIDs, Diabetes, and mental illness." I said it casually. Looking back on it now, it's more like, "He has AIDs, Diabetes, AND mental illness?!?!?? Holy crap." However, during work it's just a casual thing.

I've also gotten used to people saying that they abuse alcohol, are addicted to drugs, or have been to prison. These are all just other check-in-the-box answers. They're quickly asked, and quickly answered, without any sort of background, detail, or explanation.

Lastly, I've gotten used to people coming in who we can't help. During walk-in hours, people come and say their situation, ask for help, and be on their way. Sometimes my coworker is able to refer them to different agencies and different shelters, and sometimes she's not. Sometimes they're seeking rental assistance, which we don't currently offer, and will have to face eviction. I've become used to watching people leave when we can't help them and I just go about my day, not thinking that tonight they will be sleeping on the concrete, on a wooden surface, in an abusive situation, in a drugged lull, or in fear that they will be evicted the next day. I will be safely sleeping in my bed, under my blankets, on my pillows, in my apartment, with the doors locked so no one can disturb me. But at the time, I don't think of that. I just keep typing away on the computer as the next client walks in.

I don't want to get used to these things. I don't want to lose the ability to feel. I know I still have the ability to feel, because I'm elated when we can help someone, and when I hear about stories of recovery and housing, and when I hear about saving lives and heroes. I even still cry during sappy movies and TV shows. I even cried during "Wreck it Ralph" the other day. But I love this corny ability that I have to have a heart for the littlest things--and now, my biggest fear is to become heartless.