Trying to type and taking care not to screw up my freshly polished nails in "speedy hot tamale". Hot shit. Reading past posts and thinking back to 2009, when graduate school seemed like to most unpleasant aspect of my life and I was constantly going into mini existential crises. I still do, but they're slightly more geared towards the pathway of when I will establish myself a professional in my field, when to start saving up for a home, a wedding, a car, my kids' college funds, etc. I just realized it's never over. I just move on from worrying about old dilemmas to new ones, all in my own little hole. It's human nature, I think. At least the "well-established" humans. I'm dying of sleep yet here I am. I do enjoy reading my old posts, and I love my journal. Still love the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, those I will never outgrow. I'm wondering what happened to the very few "friends" I had on here? Tomorrow work. Appointments. Dwelling over screw ups in my very natural, neurotic way; the way I've always done it. I feel like life has brought a few changes, but I still feel that I myself have not changed much as a person. Still irresponsible, unpunctual, and wanting to displace blame. It's hard to own up to less than attractive qualities about myself.
I've been thinking about going to see a therapist. The problem is, living in such a small town and working as a therapist, you're bound to know just about everyone or have met them at one point or another during your student or professional career. They may have taught a class, which is a bummer. No dual relationships. I have plenty of ethical dilemmas, doubts, questions, and just straight out pent up anger about the shitty aspects of working in the helping profession sometimes. It's not all bad. I figured if I truly did not like what I did I would have quit and found another job at the sight of one of my clients (whom will very likely be diagnosed with a personality disorder as an adult) grabbing scissors to cut herself and later threatening to kill herself by jumping in front of a car. No such thing happened, but the police did have to be called. It was an experience that did not scare me away, so I was meant to do this. But it can get exhausting and feel pointless, particularly for those CPS and court ordered cases. These are the clients that don't have a choice pretty much and can think of a million other places to be except an office sitting in front of a therapist. I don't get the "I have a granddaughter your age" comment anymore, which I often took as a backhanded compliment. I think a graduate degree title behind your name and some experience coupled with knowing-what-the-fuck-you're-talking-abo
ut badassness has kind of worn off that first impression. But now I realize I'm stuck with the very real possibility of burning myself out from caring so damn much or not enough. I vent with my very understanding boyfriend but the importation/exportation vehicle business has no common ground with the helping profession. So off to a therapist I go. The experience will be great though because I'll get to be "on the other side of the chair", as my graduate professor would say. I'm hungry and sleepy. A horrible combination I remember plagued my classmates and myself for the next two years of the master's program. I miss the camaraderie and the learning. I don't miss the workload, the classes, the isolation from family and other social life. That I was glad to leave behind.
Current Mood: complacent
Current Music: Cheated Hearts- Yeah Yeah Yeahs