"to bite and tear flesh."
after five hours of meeting with nine individuals i work with i have learned five things today:
1) i am believed to not possess any shred of a sense of humor.
2) i make irritating suggestions that nevertheless seem to make sense in the long run.
3) i make everything into therapy.
4) i talk to everyone like they are my clients.
and..the biggest insult to a therapist(although i found the one about my lack of a sense of humor the most biting)....
5) i dont listen.
now my first inclination is ofcourse to go into self-pity mode ("i am an awful therapist") or the otherwise useful defensive stature ("bastards! if you TRIED to get to know me, and had any intellect whatsoever, you might find out i AM FU@king funny!"). After hours upon hours of stiffling tears and allowing myself to project all over this new information....stocking these as
HIGH in the reasons why i am so very unsuccessful with any form of romance or attractive attributes to/with members of the opposite sex, i am sorting through the remains of my brused and battered ego. living along side with my lonliness is my fragile belief that i am good at what i do, that people respect me for my abilities to deal with even the most complex kid and bring some small shreds of hope into their existence. all in all, this information gets mixed up with how i identify and undertstand myself.
perhaps most interesting, i somehow forgot why it is i love residential in the first place. as many of my close counterparts in catharsis can attest - i am often one to seek higher metaphoric meandering within popular culture and i have often equated working in the crisis sphere of residential with working in an ER. i love the adrenaline, being needed, and using skills i did not realize i possessed until the last minute - just in time. i love shows about ER's for this reason. now a new show - grey's anatomy has filtered into my life. its first pilot episode - aptly titled "the game" has for me, recently encampsulated the work that i do and the experiences/struggles i (and those i see around me) have on a daily basis.
In thinking about my job, I so often forget why i am here - why i choose to do this work. I do it BECAUSE its hard. i call it my "bootcamp" of therapy - i learn everyday, the learning is never easy - it takes blood, sweat, & tears, and its not always about the job - but about my own self and life.
when i have days like today, i need to remind myself of my favorite quote from "the game":
1) i am believed to not possess any shred of a sense of humor.
2) i make irritating suggestions that nevertheless seem to make sense in the long run.
3) i make everything into therapy.
4) i talk to everyone like they are my clients.
and..the biggest insult to a therapist(although i found the one about my lack of a sense of humor the most biting)....
5) i dont listen.
now my first inclination is ofcourse to go into self-pity mode ("i am an awful therapist") or the otherwise useful defensive stature ("bastards! if you TRIED to get to know me, and had any intellect whatsoever, you might find out i AM FU@king funny!"). After hours upon hours of stiffling tears and allowing myself to project all over this new information....stocking these as
HIGH in the reasons why i am so very unsuccessful with any form of romance or attractive attributes to/with members of the opposite sex, i am sorting through the remains of my brused and battered ego. living along side with my lonliness is my fragile belief that i am good at what i do, that people respect me for my abilities to deal with even the most complex kid and bring some small shreds of hope into their existence. all in all, this information gets mixed up with how i identify and undertstand myself.
perhaps most interesting, i somehow forgot why it is i love residential in the first place. as many of my close counterparts in catharsis can attest - i am often one to seek higher metaphoric meandering within popular culture and i have often equated working in the crisis sphere of residential with working in an ER. i love the adrenaline, being needed, and using skills i did not realize i possessed until the last minute - just in time. i love shows about ER's for this reason. now a new show - grey's anatomy has filtered into my life. its first pilot episode - aptly titled "the game" has for me, recently encampsulated the work that i do and the experiences/struggles i (and those i see around me) have on a daily basis.
In thinking about my job, I so often forget why i am here - why i choose to do this work. I do it BECAUSE its hard. i call it my "bootcamp" of therapy - i learn everyday, the learning is never easy - it takes blood, sweat, & tears, and its not always about the job - but about my own self and life.
when i have days like today, i need to remind myself of my favorite quote from "the game":
"i cant think of any one reason i should be a surgeon, but i can think of a thousand reasons i should quit. they make it hard unpurpose. there are lives in our hands. There comes a momment when its more than just a game. and you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. i could quit..but here's the thing.. i love the playing field"
in the end, i may not listen, make irritating suggestions, treat everyone like a client, turn everything into therapy...maybe even (gulp) lack the requist muster to embrace sarcasm enough to satisfyingly engage with the staff.... but in the end i knowthe defintion of sarcasm "to bite and tear flesh" and i possess the will and the drive to keep going even if my bruses are sore and deep. its what i try to teach the kids to do...i may as well practice on myself...
in my mind, being a good surgeon means looking into your own deep wounds and embracing the crisis that ensues....
posted by blogging it out at 6:06 PM
7 Comments:
Although we will discuss this in depth outside of the blogosphere, I just want to say, right off the bat, that anyone who thinks that you don't have a sense of humour clearly has never lived with you! Or maybe I mean that you have to have a sense of humour to live with me... whatever. I mean, look at Id for crying out loud! A humourless person could not have raised that cat! Anyway, who are these morons you work with?
Case in point: you made me a penis cake for my birthday one year... with CREAM FILLING!
No more discussion necessary.
Okay one more: you rub things with your boobs for good luck.
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And what about your halloween costumes: that naughty nurse and Doris Day?
I could keep at this all night, so clearly you have a sense of humour!
And then there was that time your grinded with the microphone...
ahh jason
your the best.
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