who knows?

This grown-up thing is harder than I thought it would be. I am currently sick, stressed, and tired. I am finding that time and money management get harder as time goes on. The twenties are just strange years. I have forwarded my mail my times than I care to remember. I have accumulated the strangest assortment of household furniture from various friends, neighbors, and thrift stores. Yet, I have solid friendships that have stood the test of time and distance. I have a better relationship with my parents now than ever. I have a really cool boyfriend who is a stable, delightfully fun individual.

I wrote those words several days ago. I don’t take much time to write any more. Frankly, I’m just pretty worn out these days. I am absolutely certain that the job will get better. But, for now, it’s wearing me out completely. I am now a primary counselor at Bradford Health Services, an inpatient drug and alcohol rehab center. I really like what I do. I do. But, the learning curve right now is just tremendous and I’m having a hard time cutting myself some slack and giving myself a bit of grace. Because I want to enter into this cottage and skillfully help each client move towards success and away from the grasp of alcoholism and disease. I want to lead groups with ease and wisdom. I want to quickly document each patient’s progress and my assessment of their treatment. However, right now, my experience is summed up in the previous experience. I am about to co-facilitate a group for 25 men ages 20-40. One of my clients has given himself a bed pass and is sleeping. The second client is standing on a chair eating a banana in order to draw attention to himself. The third client is outside fraternizing with a woman from the other cottage. And my fourth client has taken off down the hill because he’s mad that I refused to meet with him right before my group started. Ah, yes, my job of kitten herder goes as such most days.

But, today it’s Sunday. Aaron and I enjoyed a relaxing weekend of buying banana split oreos, a new game, and five-dollar shoes at the ghetto K-mart. We played some rock band, hung out at the pool, and were generally lazy. It’s been a good weekend and I will go back to work tomorrow. Because it will get better. I just have to remember that I will be a better therapist in six months than I am now. And an even better one in a year. I have to remember that I am not supposed to know how to do this. I am afraid to let people know that I need help or that I’m hurting, but I’m learning how to change that. I will get up tomorrow and go to work because quitting isn’t an option and I believe it will get better. I’m thankful for today.


Well, it is now the next Sunday and here I am again. Things are getting better at work. I consider it nothing sort of the grace of God. I am still not an expert by any means, but it is getting better. I have more answers than questions most days and that is reassuring. And honestly, I am now grateful that I had the two most difficult patients of my career thus far in the first month. They taught me to relax and not work harder than my clients. They taught me to call a few bluffs. They taught me to say no. They taught me to have greater trust in this “healing process” that I keep referring to. They reminded me that I am only one person and one part in this whole healing thing. I hopefully help in some way. I will help some and not others. But, my own healing is never-ending and is and was aided by multiple people. I cannot heal my patients and I cannot expect to see quick results. I am dealing with disease and addiction and disorder and years of pain and maladaptive coping skills and I am part of a new beginning with many endings yet unknown.

Honestly, the people I work with are often more interesting than the patients. Take the most different group of people you can imagine with a myriad of counseling/social work degrees, throw them all together, and you get the staff of Bradford. I don’t know why we’re all there. Sometimes I’m not sure why I’m there.