The month of May brought with it several anniversaries and some bittersweet memories. Four years ago this month I became a Reiki master and eight years ago I completed my masters degree and added MSW after my name.

I celebrated my Reiki master anniversary by teaching a level 2 class to some lovely healers. There aren’t enough words to describe how much it means to me to share this technique with others and it was a perfect way to commemorate this milestone. Reiki has brought so much love, healing and connection into my life. I am proud to have a growing group of students who are doing great work in the world.

In reflecting on my social work career, I find myself missing my college days (because really who doesn’t?!) but also my clients and the relationship I had with them.

At my first internship I was afraid to hang out with the clients in the milieu. What would I say to them? I also remember being totally baffled when someone said they forgot a client’s name and then laughing to myself when it was me forgetting. Yes, we establish close relationships with these people but we are human. And honestly some clients are more memorable than others.

It’s an honor to do this work though and it has been filled with moments of tenderness. I have sat and cried with a client who just lost her father. Another whose dog died suddenly. I have kept small keepsakes made or given to me by clients, I still wonder how many of them are doing and I remember the birthday of a client who died each year.

Professional boundaries keep us from being able to stay in touch, but it doesn’t mean we don’t remember the connections we have made which often happen in a persons most vulnerable times in life. We sometimes spend more time with our clients than we do with our own family and close friends.

I’ve been out of the social work game for some time now and I don’t know if I’ll go back. But I do miss the deep connections I made and that I got to be there for so many people when they needed support and comfort. I can only hope maybe they think of me from time to time too. And not even me per se, but something I shared with them or the feeling they had of being accepted and understood.