I knew the first day of orientation the job was not for me. JD, the rugged and handsome symbol of recovery, announced to the room, If you came here for your own problems get up and leave. We are here for the patients.
Maybe it was a common issue, not maybe but of course that people drawn to the field of psychology had spent some time trying to contemplate their own mind. If nothing else we could at least find and give compassion in shared experience. I didn't walk out that day, and I'm glad I didn't. Some of the best friends I ever met I found in that place.
You had to watch Lucille when she got that smirk. It was always a result of her having had enough of pain, of grief, of worry. Sometimes life just got too much. We'd smoke cigarettes in the break area because her humor would not be for the majority. It was those moments it seemed when she had it all figured out in that nobody really did. I enjoyed her lapses into absurdity when laughter was coping and truth, no matter how relative, felt like freedom.
Today I am grateful for however we cope, whatever we need to take that next step, to go to work, to somehow manage to keep giving of ourselves 'cause I think that is what we are supposed to do.
but at least partly because of Lucille I am okay with someone saying, what the fuck do you know?