“Every two years when I have to renew my license, and the new certificate arrives in the mail, I think ‘ha!, I can’t believe I fooled them again!’”
I had to laugh when my co-worker said this, especially because he was one of those people with a lot of experience who seemed to 'have his shit together.'
"At least they gave you a license," I replied. "I'm still provisional."
At this point in time I was still un-licensed, primarily due to procrastination. Also, I was pretty certain that I didn't know what the hell I was doing and didn't deserve a license.
But, eventually I completed my requirements. That day came when the certificate arrived in the mail and it was official. I immediately called my co-worker to let him know, "I fooled them, too."
Two years have passed, and it is now time for me to renew my license for the first time. I'm much more confident now than when I started out. Still, I have days like today when I'm pretty sure I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
The difference today is that I'm learning to accept my self-doubt. I know that the committee in my head can, and does, manufacture all sorts of crazy things if I let it. I also know now that many of these people who appear to 'have their shit together' don't feel that way on the inside. Often they have their own committees (and sub-committees) to contend with. So, I'm not being fair to myself when I try to compare my insides to other peoples' outsides.
Some level of doubt is okay. It keeps me motivated to try to evolve. It’s the people that never have any doubt that I really worry about.
Showing posts with label work and recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work and recovery. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
bad days and BAD DAYS
"A photo is worth a thousand words."
Monday was a fairly typical day at work. I had a new patient assigned to me. The patient had just transferred from the Detox/Crisis Stabilization Unit to the regular inpatient side (where I work). So, I read over his chart, then took a look at his photo from admission. I went to find him so I could introduce myself and schedule a time to meet with him.
I looked for this patient in the day room, and I did not see him anywhere. I asked the Health Care Techs if they had seen him. Was he with a doctor? in his room?
They just pointed, and he was actually sitting right in front of me. I hadn't recognized him because he looked nothing at all like he did in that photo, taken 10 days ago when he came in (intoxicated) to detox.
Sort of without thinking, I said, "Wow, you definitely look much better now than in your admission photo."
Of course, as could be expected, he said, "what picture?" Quite understandably, he didn't remember having his picture taken.
That day I went home on a mission. I tore apart my closet throwing boxes everywhere. I wasn't even positive that I still had the exact thing I was looking for. It took forever, but finally I found this gem, along with an accompanying psychological evaluation...
<
Yikes!
The sad part is that I don't remember having this picture taken. I actually don't remember too much of that day at all - only bits and pieces due to a benzodiazepine-induced blackout.
I first saw this photo when my favorite Health Care Tech was laughing about it a few days after it was taken. At this point I was clear-headed and integrated into the millieu, trying to make a joke out of the sad (and utterly humiliating) situation I was in.... which was a locked psychiatric unit!
I remember this Health Care Tech waving my picture around and asking, "Amanda is this you? It doesn't even look like you... You're an attractive girl; this is a horrible picture...Look at this, right?...it doesn't look anything like her.."
"Well, I wasn't exactly at my best when I came in," I said.
A week or so later when I was released back into the world, I showed this photo to a close friend, and he said, "Don't hang on to that. Move forward to more positive things."
But, I kept the photo anyway. It actually sat on the door of my refrigerator for quite some time. Then I moved, and it got thrown into a random box where it sat for years untouched (along with the psych eval)...until now.
They gave me a copy of my picture with no questions asked, but the psychiatric evaluation was a bit trickier to get. Being the way that I was (and still am), I began demanding a copy of my psych eval soon after my discharge. When it arrived in the mail I read it immediately.
The most complimentary part of the eval is the part where it states that: "Ms. Hopper seems to be of average intelligence, with no apparent cognitive deficiencies."
The report also mentions a propensity to abuse substances, lack of insight in this area, and "Ms. Hopper verbalizes anger through sarcasm and a spewing forth of obscenities."
Naturally, when I first read this report, I folded it up and stewed for a while. All of it was crap, especially the part about substances. I disagreed with everything that this pretentious, asshole psychologist wrote about me.
Today as I read that same report, I agree with probably about 90% of it. Much of it no longer holds true (thankfully), but it pretty accurately describes how I was at that particular point in time.
Perspective...
At work on Wednesday, my patient asked to see his admission photo which I had referenced earlier. So, during our Treatment Team Meeting, one of the doctors showed him his photo. He frowned and said, "wow, I look horrible."
I said, "well, most people aren't at their best when they come in to detox...Maybe we can give you a copy of that picture for you to keep when you leave."
"Why would I want to do that?" he asked.
Other staff turned in my direction, and I felt my face flush.
"I don't know," I said, "maybe just so that years from now you can see this photo, and on a bad day sober it can give you perspective, that even a bad day sober is not all that bad in comparison."
He stared at me blankly and didn't say anything.
Later that week he asked his doctor for a copy of the photo. 'Just for posterity' he said.
Monday was a fairly typical day at work. I had a new patient assigned to me. The patient had just transferred from the Detox/Crisis Stabilization Unit to the regular inpatient side (where I work). So, I read over his chart, then took a look at his photo from admission. I went to find him so I could introduce myself and schedule a time to meet with him.
I looked for this patient in the day room, and I did not see him anywhere. I asked the Health Care Techs if they had seen him. Was he with a doctor? in his room?
They just pointed, and he was actually sitting right in front of me. I hadn't recognized him because he looked nothing at all like he did in that photo, taken 10 days ago when he came in (intoxicated) to detox.
Sort of without thinking, I said, "Wow, you definitely look much better now than in your admission photo."
Of course, as could be expected, he said, "what picture?" Quite understandably, he didn't remember having his picture taken.
That day I went home on a mission. I tore apart my closet throwing boxes everywhere. I wasn't even positive that I still had the exact thing I was looking for. It took forever, but finally I found this gem, along with an accompanying psychological evaluation...
<
Yikes!
The sad part is that I don't remember having this picture taken. I actually don't remember too much of that day at all - only bits and pieces due to a benzodiazepine-induced blackout.
I first saw this photo when my favorite Health Care Tech was laughing about it a few days after it was taken. At this point I was clear-headed and integrated into the millieu, trying to make a joke out of the sad (and utterly humiliating) situation I was in.... which was a locked psychiatric unit!
I remember this Health Care Tech waving my picture around and asking, "Amanda is this you? It doesn't even look like you... You're an attractive girl; this is a horrible picture...Look at this, right?...it doesn't look anything like her.."
"Well, I wasn't exactly at my best when I came in," I said.
A week or so later when I was released back into the world, I showed this photo to a close friend, and he said, "Don't hang on to that. Move forward to more positive things."
But, I kept the photo anyway. It actually sat on the door of my refrigerator for quite some time. Then I moved, and it got thrown into a random box where it sat for years untouched (along with the psych eval)...until now.
They gave me a copy of my picture with no questions asked, but the psychiatric evaluation was a bit trickier to get. Being the way that I was (and still am), I began demanding a copy of my psych eval soon after my discharge. When it arrived in the mail I read it immediately.
The most complimentary part of the eval is the part where it states that: "Ms. Hopper seems to be of average intelligence, with no apparent cognitive deficiencies."
The report also mentions a propensity to abuse substances, lack of insight in this area, and "Ms. Hopper verbalizes anger through sarcasm and a spewing forth of obscenities."
Naturally, when I first read this report, I folded it up and stewed for a while. All of it was crap, especially the part about substances. I disagreed with everything that this pretentious, asshole psychologist wrote about me.
Today as I read that same report, I agree with probably about 90% of it. Much of it no longer holds true (thankfully), but it pretty accurately describes how I was at that particular point in time.
Perspective...
At work on Wednesday, my patient asked to see his admission photo which I had referenced earlier. So, during our Treatment Team Meeting, one of the doctors showed him his photo. He frowned and said, "wow, I look horrible."
I said, "well, most people aren't at their best when they come in to detox...Maybe we can give you a copy of that picture for you to keep when you leave."
"Why would I want to do that?" he asked.
Other staff turned in my direction, and I felt my face flush.
"I don't know," I said, "maybe just so that years from now you can see this photo, and on a bad day sober it can give you perspective, that even a bad day sober is not all that bad in comparison."
He stared at me blankly and didn't say anything.
Later that week he asked his doctor for a copy of the photo. 'Just for posterity' he said.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Insomnia
I've been a little, actually A LOT burnt out lately with work. There are some irritations with my current job, of course, but the core issue is the same issue from every past job. I doubt that I can be effective at the work I do. I wonder if I'm good enough for it or cut out for it.
I spoke with a former co-worker about this last week. I said "John, I think I'm in the wrong field." John was always my #1 cheerleader at Southlight, so I expected him to reassure me that I'm doing better than I think, I'm great at what I do, etc. Instead, he said, "I don't know...maybe you really are in the wrong field."
Though not what I wanted to hear, I had to appreciate his honesty. He went on to say, "If you want a career where you have some way of knowing you're doing a good job, this is not it."
I stayed up late last night thinking and trying to figure out the direction of my life. Where would I live if not in Asheville? What would I be if not a counselor? Where would I be if x,y,& z hadn't happened or if I had done A instead of B? Am I really exactly where I am supposed to be at this moment?
I know I can't change people, so how can I help? I started to think about what others have done to help me, what has worked & what has not worked. I decided that the people most helpful to me have been those who listened without judging, believed in me, gave me a healthy dose of perspective, or inspired me in some way or another.
Even if I had the luxury of a million mentors as a teenager, I probably would have made hundreds of wrong choices, regardless of their efforts. I had to suffer enough and make my life unmanageable enough before I could realize I needed to ask for help and start making changes. (Even as an adult, I struggle with this "asking for help" thing.) But, when I felt the need to change things, it was the people who believed in me that set the stage for change.
I have a few adolescent and young adult clients right now that I really worry about. The ones that cause me the most heartache are always the ones I like the most.
Will I be able to help them? I don't know. There's no way of knowing if I make a difference or not. I can only hope that the fact that I care matters for something.
I spoke with a former co-worker about this last week. I said "John, I think I'm in the wrong field." John was always my #1 cheerleader at Southlight, so I expected him to reassure me that I'm doing better than I think, I'm great at what I do, etc. Instead, he said, "I don't know...maybe you really are in the wrong field."
Though not what I wanted to hear, I had to appreciate his honesty. He went on to say, "If you want a career where you have some way of knowing you're doing a good job, this is not it."
I stayed up late last night thinking and trying to figure out the direction of my life. Where would I live if not in Asheville? What would I be if not a counselor? Where would I be if x,y,& z hadn't happened or if I had done A instead of B? Am I really exactly where I am supposed to be at this moment?
I know I can't change people, so how can I help? I started to think about what others have done to help me, what has worked & what has not worked. I decided that the people most helpful to me have been those who listened without judging, believed in me, gave me a healthy dose of perspective, or inspired me in some way or another.
Even if I had the luxury of a million mentors as a teenager, I probably would have made hundreds of wrong choices, regardless of their efforts. I had to suffer enough and make my life unmanageable enough before I could realize I needed to ask for help and start making changes. (Even as an adult, I struggle with this "asking for help" thing.) But, when I felt the need to change things, it was the people who believed in me that set the stage for change.
I have a few adolescent and young adult clients right now that I really worry about. The ones that cause me the most heartache are always the ones I like the most.
Will I be able to help them? I don't know. There's no way of knowing if I make a difference or not. I can only hope that the fact that I care matters for something.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
447HALT569
I was having a rough time a few weeks ago, and a sticky-note appeared in my office, scrawled in my co-worker signature chicken-scratch:
"447HALT569."
Later that day my co-worker provided the explanation.
H-A-L-T the acronym for Hungry, Lonely, Angry, and Tired is commonly cited in recovery programs and in 12 step meetings. These are emotional states to be wary of, and avoid, where possible, as they lead often to poor decision-making. "When I start to act irrationally or get in a bad frame of mind I stop(halt) to ask myselfe if I'm experiencing any one of these: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. And, if so, what can I do about it?" The numbers reference pages in the "Big Book": a reading on acceptance and a reading on forgiveness.
While the reading on forgiveness is a good reading, I particularly relate to and appreciate the one on acceptance.
(The page numbers vary by volume, but the words are the same).
"Acceptance was the Answer":
Since reading "Acceptance was the Answer" I have had a few moments here and there when I've been able to really embrace life on life's terms. At these times I'll say, "I am exactly where I need to be at this moment."
My tendency, of course, is to want immediate gratification and to refuse to accept what's in front of me at this moment. I am trying to learn to be patient. It is hard work, and I'm not good at it yet. Lately, I read this chapter almost every day.
"447HALT569."
Later that day my co-worker provided the explanation.
H-A-L-T the acronym for Hungry, Lonely, Angry, and Tired is commonly cited in recovery programs and in 12 step meetings. These are emotional states to be wary of, and avoid, where possible, as they lead often to poor decision-making. "When I start to act irrationally or get in a bad frame of mind I stop(halt) to ask myselfe if I'm experiencing any one of these: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. And, if so, what can I do about it?" The numbers reference pages in the "Big Book": a reading on acceptance and a reading on forgiveness.
While the reading on forgiveness is a good reading, I particularly relate to and appreciate the one on acceptance.
(The page numbers vary by volume, but the words are the same).
"Acceptance was the Answer":
And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation -- some fact of my life -- unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment [emphasis added]. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life's terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me an in my my attitudes.
...I'm better off if I don't give advice, don't figure I know what's best, and just accept life on life's terms, as it is today -- especially my own life, as it actually is....
...When I focus on what's good today, I have a good day, and when I focus on what's bad, I have a bad day. If I focus on a problem, the problem increases; if I focus on the answer, the answer increases....
...Perhaps the best thing of all for me is to remember that my serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations. The higher my expectations of Max and other people are, the lower is my serenity. I can watch my serenity level rise when I discard my expectations.
...For my serenity is directly proportional to my level of acceptance. When I remember this, I can see I've never had it so good.
Since reading "Acceptance was the Answer" I have had a few moments here and there when I've been able to really embrace life on life's terms. At these times I'll say, "I am exactly where I need to be at this moment."
My tendency, of course, is to want immediate gratification and to refuse to accept what's in front of me at this moment. I am trying to learn to be patient. It is hard work, and I'm not good at it yet. Lately, I read this chapter almost every day.
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