Personal Narrative: My Life As A Social Worker

I was only two years old when my mother passed away. Left with an absentee father, I felt a void in my life. I was constantly misunderstood by other family members, which triggered my aggressive behaviors and communication style. Unable to cope with my emotions as an adolescent, I sought help from my school’s social worker. For the first time, it felt great to express my feelings without worrying about being judged. Through our regular meetings, she helped me improve my social development and attitude. She changed my life as I was becoming a better person. In addition, with her assistance, my family and I were able to value communication, understand each other and live in a healthier environment. This chapter of my life has inspired me to pursue a career in social work and be part of a team who continuously helps people overcome obstacles in their lives.

My passion for helping the vulnerable is one reason I ‘am inspired to become a social worker. I also want to be available to provide support to those who have nowhere else to turn. My experience in social work has taught me to celebrate the small victories towards positive changes. I look forward to gaining the skills and knowledge to aid me in becoming a successful social worker.

The history of mental health in the United States show a robust movement towards the mental healthcare system we have today. Prior to the 19th century, individuals with mental health issues were widely considered to be demonically possessed, thus contributing to the stigmatization of mental illness and the proliferation of poor treatment conditions. However, in the 1800s, there was a dramatic change in mental healthcare in the U.S. The government took a proactive role in treating the mentally ill, leading to the dawn of state psychiatric facilities.

The only thing she drained was every last ounce of love and purpose from my soul. I left the party early while I was still slightly sober and teary eyed. When I arrived home, Shelia was furious, yet she still comforted me with her compassion and sympathy. As life went on, I grew deeper into depression. My addictions became stronger and new habits far worse than before were created. Theft, vandalism, stealing, adultery, drunkenness and many other sins enslaved my life. I was falling into a pit of depression and evil I couldn't escape. I was on the urge to suicide. Shelia was concerned and rationally decided to enroll an a rehab program. The program she chose was called Stable. A few days later my enrollment began. It was very different than I had imagined There were many different types of people. Some were scrawny with little hope. others were built and possessed with anger. And then their was my category, the lonely, deserted, and depressed group. After looking around in amazement at how incredibly secure, and authoritarian this facility was, a lady named Connie greeted me. She spoke softly and quickly to figure out which category to assign me to. I slowly approached the people of my category, and as usual, I was

How do you account for your interest in social work? In your response, discuss paid or volunteer experiences that support your choice of social work as a profession?

My story begins when I was in my late teens as the door closed, the lock latched, and I stood there with my hands in my pocket shocked. Tears ran down my dark circled eyes, I looked to my left, then to my right, looking for a place to hide. The weight of the world was on my chest, and suffocating seemed inevitable as the seconds dragged on. That is when the adolescent psychiatrist arrived. It had been 5 nights since I last slept, 3 days since eating, and yes, I had just been voluntarily committed into a mental health outpatient facility. Until these moments, I had never really thought about my family history of mental illness but it soon plagued my mind. I remember my dad’s alcoholism and depression,

Then when I came out of that bathroom, I had an epiphany. I said to myself there must be a reason why I am here right now. I heard a voice in my head say Yolanda snap out of it. I told myself the ones who hurt the most also have the greatest ability to heal the most. Through advocating for myself and my family, and educating myself on the system and programs. I fought to get my family out of the shelter and into a suitable apartment. Even with a subsidy the choice was not to live off of it forever. I applied to go back to college to get my degree and become a social worker. I would love to be an advocate for families who feel there is no hope. No light at the end of the tunnel, some may feel no one who cares or get the impression that there are no programs available. I would like to make it clear to people that you should never look down on someone unless you're helping them up. The reason why I decided to pursue my Master's Degree at this time it's because I never want to stop learning. The more I know the more I will grow. The social work field is so intriguing to me. I feel education is needed in order for me to help the clients

The decision to pursue my education in social work at Dalhousie University was not an easy one. While I was growing up, my career choice changed all of them time, but I always knew that I wanted to do something fulfilling, in which I could “help” and support people. My mom was a nurse and always loved helping people; I always figured I would follow in her footsteps, however I learned at an early age that sciences do not come easy to me. Unfortunately, my mom lost her battle to breast cancer when I was eight years old, so I hope that by me helping people socially, rather than medically like she did, will continue her legacy.

myself. My dad leans over, kisses my forehead and whispers “They are watching you. You can’t cry. You must act happy or else they will think something is wrong.”

Ability to provide psychosocial treatment to a wide variety of individuals from various socioeconomic, cultural, ethnic, educational, and other diversified backgrounds. This requires knowledge of human development and behavior (physical and psychological), and the differential influences of the environment, society, and culture.

A social worker has a very important job. Social workers help children and families in need of food, homes, and health care. They help children have a brighter future. There are many different types of social work. There are mental health, child and family, elementary, and high school social workers.

After completing my Associates Degree at Bronx Community College, I was blessed enough to obtain a job in the same agency that I was working at my internship, however it was in a different department. This particular agency hired me as a Youth Care Worker for the Unaccompanied Migrant Children (UMC). As you may imagine, it was a great experience to work with this little fellow. They taught me that dreams can be as big as you want, also to never give up. At the same time I was helping the agency by doing drive coats, food drive and by assisting on fix the food daily menu. I build strong relationships with the children to the point that tears were the only thing left when they went back to their families.

When I’m working on something creative, I keep my PC or my phone next to my bed. I seem to have the best ideas when I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. I’ll get up and make notes. I commute a lot and driving seems to promote ideas as well.

It all started out with my mother Sophia, my father Kalcey, and I. My father was working multiple jobs trying to support me. During the day my father would work at a gas station near NDSU and at night my dad would’ve worked at The Bison Turf only getting hours of sleep each night. My mom was receiving a nursing degree at North Dakota State University so I was being handed around by my dad‘s family, friends, and some sorority houses at North Dakota State University. When I was the age of two years old my mom found out the use of prescription drugs. While my mom was watching me one day, my dad was at work and my mom was passed out on the floor for taking too much narcotics. Leaving me alone and by myself, making me feeble to everything around me. That drew the line for my dad when he got home to the apartment and he took me away and we moved away by ourselves.

     My parents came back, surprisingly still with my sister. They said that the rehab wouldn’t take my sister because she was 18 and a legal adult and could easily sign herself out whenever she wanted. The rehab told my parents that Becky would have to face her withdrawals at home. Now I never knew how people acted when they went through withdrawals, but I do know now that it has to be the most painful and frightening sight I have ever seen. Becky had to stay in my parents