Thursday, February 28, 2008


I am presently transitioning cases to other social workers. One of my patients has been really easy to deal with, and I didn't mind giving him to an already overloaded co-worker. Then? We found out he's on crack. Another patient is freaking out because she has to go to a nursing home. Several people have food stamps pending, Medicaid made some random changes, and I found my suicidal patient in a rehab center with MRSA. But the good news is that I won't have to deal with any of that in nine days.

I will be dealing with 20 miles of hiking. In one day. Unless the weather sucks.

On the verge of change, I tend to make grandiose plans. For instance, before graduating I planned out my future massage therapy studio. I made a list of everything I would have to buy for the business, set my prices, and picked out a name. When I decided to pursue a psychology major, I researched how to score an internship with the FBI and become an agent. I bought a Camelbak with the aspiration to do a century.

I haven't failed every ambitious project, though, which gives me the hope that some of my plans are just crazy enough to work. I did manage to finish Book It in two weeks, lose 17 pounds for my wedding by riding my bike 20 miles a day, and drive from Orlando to Bloomington, IN in one go. But these are few and far between. I am more likely to get a great idea for a book, write an outline, title my chapters, and forget about it. Why do I do this? In part, I think my personality type explains a lot. If I believe in something, I can make enormous sacrifices to achieve it. Right now, I don't believe I can do much for my patients. So I'm done.

Part of me went away when I took this job. MacGyver has been commenting on how much more I seem like my real self already. I've been happier and more spontaneous. I remembered past plans with Joe and Anami, then ten minutes later had them on the phone to propose we pick a day to traipse 20 miles and go for it. Wait, what? Twenty miles? After a lethargic winter? After a stressful end to my social work career? After no preparation whatsoever? Who does that?

The girl I used to be does that.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

That Which I Should Have Done I Did Not Do

I fear taking things for granted. I fear losing something because I thought I could have it later. I fear not appreciating what I don't have to work for. I fear feeling entitled. I fear wasting my life. I fear not feeling alive.

I'm not so sure what I'm going to do about it.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Damn, I Suck

Unless I wuss out, tomorrow I put in my official resignation.

I spent the last two weeks in mental anguish, because as much as I hate my job and what it does to me, I don't really want to go. I will admit to waffling on my decision. I took this job because I felt performing massage therapy just wasn't helpful enough, and I needed to help people MORE. Plus, my boss was certifiably guano* crazy and I had to hide from her a lot. Seriously, I literally hid from her, and I was one of the few people she liked.

Anyway, social work is definitely helpful, and I tend to believe that's the purpose of our lives. Sometimes I even make an actual difference to people on the fringes of society. That was one of the things that made the Pros column on my Should I Quit? List. The Cons column, however, was about thrice the length and included things like "This job erodes my soul" and "Maybe I'll be less suicidal" which sort of voided "I get to see Amy and Janell :)" and "Regular paychecks are sweet" on the other side.

I have cried over my patients, I have lost sleep over their well-being, I have experienced frustration on a whole new level, and I still don't want to leave them. My first week back after mom died, I found out a patient of mine (who has refused my services FOREVER) had overdosed and was in a coma. Something super shitty happened the second week too, but it has been overshadowed by the ordeal of Brain-Damaged Lady's brother. He has been trying to put her away, despite me, her guardian, my boss, her psychiatrist, and Adult Protective Services telling him he doesn't have just cause to do so. And? Every time he tells her he's going to commit her, she freaks and goes super delusional. So he is contacting the governor about it and is threatening to sue us all. Whee!

So, in a month I will likely wash my hands of it all.

Then I will hope I don't regret it.

*I use this word because I didn't know if bat shit crazy needed a hyphen. If you do, could you please tell me? I'd like to fix this footnote if need be.