This is only going to be my third summer in NYC, but I realized that the first summer I experienced here was influencial for the following summers (and it was legitimately my first summer, since even my visits to NYC were solely in the winter or early spring). The sound of air conditioning running in apartments from outside is a different sound than the one I so fondly remember from California suburbia. Then there's getting hit by a/c water drops. Busy sidewalks. The city slowing down, bogged by humidity. Moseying the Lower East Side for what always feels like a thrilling first time. "Summer Fridays." Dropping $14 or $15 on an herb-infused cocktail. Spontaneously meeting friends in the city. Coconut water. Stale subway stations and cold, refreshing train cars. And Syracuse barbeques reunions at James' family's house.
These summer, NY suburb reunions with the people I spent four years with (more or less) also give me a unique feeling. How lucky I feel to be surrounded by my college friends, despite how particular I am about people and relationships-- which is how I felt during college. Lucky that people are so forgiving of my inherently closed boundaries. Ideally, I'd have my closer friends, and then I'd have friends who don't mind if we don't see each other all the time. The relationship would be good and fun and positive, but there would be no obligation to hang out more, and no one would be offended. Sometimes these summer reunions help me do just that, but that's being selfish.
Interestingly, part of me thinks this way of idealizing relationships (which is probably dysfunctional and unfair) makes me the perfect social worker. I meet many people throughout the day, and be immersed in the relationship at the moment, but when it's time to go home, I leave the relationship at the office until it's time to see each other again.
Except there's always that one client that keeps you up at night. Not because the client is a bad person, but because the client makes you think more. About people, about yourself, about the system, about society, about subjectivity, about resilience in human beings.
These days, whenever I mingle with people outside of my usual rotation of friends (or even within), I can't stop thinking about how absolutely insane it is that every person at this party, or dinner, or gathering is going through something internally and simply lets it go for an hour or two or more for the sake of socializing with others. Of course, not everyone thinks of normal socializing as a taxing, adult responsibility as I do, since it is in itself a form of connection and "therapy," if you will. But when I do think of socializing as a constructed concept (something we are taught and have created "norms" for), I think about the weight they all carry. How false some of the mingling we do feels, if I'm aware that we're all going through something. [Insert my mom's voice saying, "You're too serious."]
If I'm being honest, I think I'm fairly (passively) empathetic. Like an 8 on a scale of 1-10. More towards people I don't know than the people I do (which I think is a natural, ironic thing, but makes weird sense). I know how to be tolerant and understanding of things I don't agree with in front of the person, because that's empathy.
Learning to be a social worker, however, has certainly helped me extend my empathy in ways I'm not sure has helped my social skills (or lack thereof). I get so caught up on the inside that I forget about the outside-- the social niceties, the avoidance of awkward situations-- and who knows what other people think when they see that lack in me? It's not like they know what's going through my head. In practice, I learned how to sit with the silence, I learned to embrace "awkward" moments, and to challenge the norm of what is "socially appropriate." I've learned to be more real than real life.
