how to say good-bye...

Today was my last day in the camp, and I am feeling pretty sad.  I feel more sad than I probably should, in fact.  As a clinician I know that I have to part with my clients and that our relationships can end permanently at any time.  But it is so difficult to say good-bye when you know you will probably never see them again, and they know that, too.  It is also hard to say good-bye when I am doing exactly what they cannot do.  That is, returning to my safe, unchanged home country to see my family and my friends.  All of my loved ones are still alive and my home is still there; it is not burned down, my land has not been stolen, my country is not at war (at least not on its own territory).  If my clients ever return to their country (which is unlikely) it will not be anything like how they left it, and their families will not be there any longer, having also fled or died.  

I am so impressed by how meaningfully they all said farewell to me and how much they were able to express their feelings about our meetings and what the end of our meetings meant to them.  For refugees especially, the end of relationships can be difficult because it only reminds them of all of their other losses.  Frequently clients in any setting will not even say a formal good-bye because it can be so painful to acknowledge and discuss the feelings.  But in this case, I think it was I who began to push away my feelings around the meaning of our farewell.  Saying it over and over started to become a bit overwhelming for me.  The refugees gave me so many gifts and letters and words of encouragement and sorrow.   

Now that it is the end of the day, I feel slightly guilty (although I know I shouldn't) and I feel a heaviness in knowing that I won't ever see them again.  I did give many of my clients my address in the US, so perhaps we will have mail correspondence.  But, it will be difficult for them to write to me because they do not have money for postage, and it would apparently be inappropriate for me to initiate contact with them first.  

My consolation is the sense that I did in fact contribute something to each of my clients, and many of them said that they feel different and indeed better after our brief time together.  Even though the refugees desperately need food, medical care, access to work, and better housing, they also need someone to listen to them. They need someone to hear their whole story and not turn away at the particularly horrific or sad parts, and they need someone to help them have hope and realize that they are so strong and resilient; someone to point out their strengths and to value them.  I also taught all of my clients deep-breathing exercises to help with the anxiety related to PTSD.  This seemed to really resonate with them, as it is something concrete and an action they can take.  Many said they slept better at night and were more carefree during the day now that they practiced the deep-breathing.  hooray!