This year, for my birthday, I got a new job. It was a bit of a gift to myself to be able to get a job working for the same agency that helped me out when I was a young, broke graduate student.Read More
I have two jobs right now. In one, I'm a case manager to youth with significant mental health needs. It's difficult work, but I've been doing it now for over a year and a half, so I've gotten pretty good at it. Then there's the second one: professional counselor to teenagers. I love both of them, but I adore the second one. Paperwork abounds, but it's so fun to talk with the kids and work with them.
But it's not without it's level of exhaustion. I've got one full-time job and one (right now) part-time job, and forty hours a week to complete both. That's not humanly possible. Fortunately, I have great and understanding supervisors who can help me transition. Unfortunately, I have this remarkable difficulty in asking for help. Still working on that. It's a thing.
Today was fun though. While the skies whorled in shades of gray and small funnels formed and dispersed, while lightning strikes showered the sky in a pale blue hue, I in my car, driving through the rain at a pretty chill pace. A silver speedster slipped past me with fury, slipping between cars like he was playing a faster version of Oregon Trail, where you're supposed to maneuver a rickety wagon along a river avoiding obstacles lest your oxen and passengers die horrible deaths.
I recently played Oregon Trail again. There were only a few people with diseases, but no one died until that damn river minigame. To the driver in the silver car, I was a rock in the torrential rain striking the pavement. I found myself worried for the guy. And, oddly, wondering whether any of his passengers had typhus.
In the residential roads, people hovered on the grassy curbs, some with their cameras out, staring at the funnels forming over the downtown area. One man, with pale white skin, a bald head, and a mullet that would make John Stamos cringe, watched the sky wearing only striped boxers. Now that's pride. Or a total lack of sense. Maybe he was so awestruck that he decided, "Screw dignity. There's tornadoes a'formin'!" If only we could all be so carefree.
So that was my day. How was yours?
It feels like the time passes super-quickly. Pretty soon it'll be 2020, and I won't even have noticed.
This Friday, I officially turned in my application for LPC candidacy. A lot of people have asked me what LPC means: Licensed Professional Counselor. Yup--it's finally happening! The best part is that the agency at which I work, and the people in charge of counseling at said agency, are willing to supervise me. It means a few changes to my job description, but it also means I still get to keep working with the youth that I've been working with thus far. I like that. In just a short few weeks, I will officially be...
I've always wanted to be Michael Fassbender. Without the drug dealing. Or the fact that he's actually a lawyer. Okay, I won't be Michael Fassbender in The Counselor. Probably more like Michael Fassbender in...
Except without the sex with clients. Or the--you know what? I'm not gonna be Michael Fassbender at all. His characters are crazy. Oooh! I could be his counselor. That might be fun. Working to avoid transference in his case may be hard, but that's just part of the job.