Lately, when I've had extra work time, I've begun reading certain texts so that I can eventually become a better therapist. My supervisor lent me a book, The Use of Self in Therapy (Baldwin, 2000) that I've been slowly tackling. My post yesterday was inspired by a reading from Virginia Satir and today I'm going to quote Carl Rogers, another influential therapist.
In his article, he talked a lot about his career, which has largely been focused on a client-centered approach to therapy. He believes that when a therapist is able to really empathetically, positively, and honestly connect with a client on several different levels, empowerment can happen for the client. I was especially struck by this:
"I would put it that the best of therapy sometimes leads to a dimension that is spiritual, rather than saying that the spiritual is having an impact on therapy. But it depends on your definition of spiritual. There are certainly times in therapy and in the experiences I have had with groups where I feel that there is something going on that is larger than what is evident...sometimes in interpersonal relationships power and energy get released which transcend what we though was involved" (p.36-37).
I think I was struck because I've felt that spiritual dimension enter my sessions with clients and it has caught be off guard. I experienced it a little last night when I took a client to a Narcotics Anonymous youth meeting. Those instance catch you off guard because you wouldn't think that a room full of kids in their fluorescent Nikes, sideways hats, piercings, and war stories would be capable of dialoguing with those sorts of serious, even eternal concepts. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. There is a larger part to life than we realize and when you loose your potential with drugs or violence, the desire to get your ducks back in a row takes on an existential and spiritual quest.
Before reading the quote, though, I guess I was thinking my thoughts about this issue were purely related to my own personal convictions about the purpose of life. It was interesting to see, though, that a hugely influential and nonreligious person agrees that this type of work has an undoubtedly spiritual element to it. In some ways, accepting that the spiritual dimension is there makes my job a little more daunting and in another way, it makes it an honor to help (or try to help) people in that way.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Inspired
I was just reading an article by Virginia Satir where she discusses the positive use of self in therapy. She says:
"...the therapist's task is to enable patients to utilize their own resources. If I believe that human beings are sacred, then when I look at their behavior, I will attempt to help them live up to their own sacredness. If I believe that human begins are things to be manipulated, then I will develop ways to manipulate them. If I believe that patients are victims, then I will try to rescue them. In other words, there is a close relationship between what I believe and how I act. The more in touch I am with my beliefs, and acknowledge them, the more I give myself freedom to choose how to use those beliefs" (Satir, 1987, p. 27).
I am inspired by this.
In school, I learned how important it is for a therapist/social worker to keep their opinions and experiences out of the helping relationship. The concept isn't complicated--if the helping person is always talking about what they went through or what they think is right or important, then the client/patient muddles their needs and goals with the therapist's. Boundaries get blurred, dependence is fostered and treatment goals become less sincere etc.
However, therapists can skillfully use their impressions, experiences, hopes to further the therapeutic relationship. It becomes a matter of selectively choosing what you want to share about yourself to further treatment. I love the idea that I can empower clients by helping them understand how sacred I believe they are...
"...the therapist's task is to enable patients to utilize their own resources. If I believe that human beings are sacred, then when I look at their behavior, I will attempt to help them live up to their own sacredness. If I believe that human begins are things to be manipulated, then I will develop ways to manipulate them. If I believe that patients are victims, then I will try to rescue them. In other words, there is a close relationship between what I believe and how I act. The more in touch I am with my beliefs, and acknowledge them, the more I give myself freedom to choose how to use those beliefs" (Satir, 1987, p. 27).
I am inspired by this.
In school, I learned how important it is for a therapist/social worker to keep their opinions and experiences out of the helping relationship. The concept isn't complicated--if the helping person is always talking about what they went through or what they think is right or important, then the client/patient muddles their needs and goals with the therapist's. Boundaries get blurred, dependence is fostered and treatment goals become less sincere etc.
However, therapists can skillfully use their impressions, experiences, hopes to further the therapeutic relationship. It becomes a matter of selectively choosing what you want to share about yourself to further treatment. I love the idea that I can empower clients by helping them understand how sacred I believe they are...
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Figuring Out What to Say
A lot of people ask me if my job as a social worker and therapist is hard. They assume I am depressed by the end of the day or am slowly developing a jaded outlook on humanity. They also try and convince me that people never change or want me to tell them stories that prove how degenerate my clients really are.
But in reality, that is not the hardest part. Sure, there are times I come home overwhelmed. When that happens, I vent to my husband, look for empathy in my teammates, or have a totally mindless night (complete with TV and ice cream). Of course I have stories that shock and I've met people I have little hope for. But those things haven't yet phased me.
What gets hard, though, is being a therapist, having aspirations of being a really good one, and wondering if I'll ever be good at my job. In other words, I worry I really suck. As you can guess from the title of this post, I often have a hard time figuring out what to say. For instance, I was talking on the phone this evening to a dad whose son just tested positive for THC. The son is on intensive supervised probation and has some serious consequences (ie Department of Youth Corrections, ie 1-2 years) that become very likely when mess-ups like these happen. Since my job is to help the youth stay in the home by improving family dynamics, I wanted to approach dad with the perspective of 'your son obviously has an addiction, he can't do this on his own, the situation is dire, he needs you...teenagers try to get away with as much as possible...you might be in a position to monitor him a little more closer and prevent another relapse'
But, of course, the conversation didn't go that way. Dad says, "Good, I hope he goes to jail. When he was in jail last time, I slept much easier. I've been so on edge lately, maybe this will help. Everyone should experience jail. He's almost a man. There's nothing I can do."
Well shoot! I got all tongue tied, as I do whenever I have to rebound after my approach is denied. I also get stuck in my client's problems, which, as my supervisor pointed out, is a terrible place for a therapist. I fumbled through the rest of the conversation, tried to not free dad from responsibility like he was wanting. But this dad had already sad it, ranted on about it, and I wasn't confident that I could change his mind. Maybe I am just too sympathetic. "Yeah", I think to myself, "with a kid that has put you through as much stress as you've been through, you actually might sleep better at night if he was in jail. Maybe jail is really what he needs'
A good therapist is on her feet. She can pull out powerful questions at the right time. In hindsight, those powerful questions might have been something like, "How do you think that makes your son feel to hear you say that you want him to go to jail?" or "You're right, your son is practically a man and yet it sounds like you agree that he isn't making very mature decisions. How can you show him how to be a man? He obviously isn't able to do it on his own quite yet" or...actually...I don't know. I still feel tongue tied. Because at the same time, maybe this dad is past helping his son. If so, I can't expect to change that and feel presumptuous making the assumption that this dad should want to be more involved in his son's life.
And I think that's part of the issue--it is hard for me, in the moment, to 1.) trust my instincts 2.) feel confident enough to assert my professional opinion 3.) assess what the clients are actually bringing to the table 4.) know when it is ok to change directions or keep the conversation focused, no matter how badly the client is trying to steer it in a different direction. Yikes.
I need to learn distance, how to not get so wrapped up in what they are telling me. Keep my mind clear and keep a series of questions that will keep things moving forward. It is a balance between respecting their ideas while helping them grow. Ahhh...that is the hard part. Hopefully this will get easier. If it doesn't, the pressure to figure out what to say will wear me down. I don't want it to and they say that it takes practice and experience yet I can't help but wonder...'What if I'm just not cut out for this?' So, please, bear with me as I get past my insecurities and determine the extent of my abilities. The drive is there, no doubt! Hopefully it just takes a while and isn't something that will always be frustrating.
But in reality, that is not the hardest part. Sure, there are times I come home overwhelmed. When that happens, I vent to my husband, look for empathy in my teammates, or have a totally mindless night (complete with TV and ice cream). Of course I have stories that shock and I've met people I have little hope for. But those things haven't yet phased me.
What gets hard, though, is being a therapist, having aspirations of being a really good one, and wondering if I'll ever be good at my job. In other words, I worry I really suck. As you can guess from the title of this post, I often have a hard time figuring out what to say. For instance, I was talking on the phone this evening to a dad whose son just tested positive for THC. The son is on intensive supervised probation and has some serious consequences (ie Department of Youth Corrections, ie 1-2 years) that become very likely when mess-ups like these happen. Since my job is to help the youth stay in the home by improving family dynamics, I wanted to approach dad with the perspective of 'your son obviously has an addiction, he can't do this on his own, the situation is dire, he needs you...teenagers try to get away with as much as possible...you might be in a position to monitor him a little more closer and prevent another relapse'
But, of course, the conversation didn't go that way. Dad says, "Good, I hope he goes to jail. When he was in jail last time, I slept much easier. I've been so on edge lately, maybe this will help. Everyone should experience jail. He's almost a man. There's nothing I can do."
Well shoot! I got all tongue tied, as I do whenever I have to rebound after my approach is denied. I also get stuck in my client's problems, which, as my supervisor pointed out, is a terrible place for a therapist. I fumbled through the rest of the conversation, tried to not free dad from responsibility like he was wanting. But this dad had already sad it, ranted on about it, and I wasn't confident that I could change his mind. Maybe I am just too sympathetic. "Yeah", I think to myself, "with a kid that has put you through as much stress as you've been through, you actually might sleep better at night if he was in jail. Maybe jail is really what he needs'
A good therapist is on her feet. She can pull out powerful questions at the right time. In hindsight, those powerful questions might have been something like, "How do you think that makes your son feel to hear you say that you want him to go to jail?" or "You're right, your son is practically a man and yet it sounds like you agree that he isn't making very mature decisions. How can you show him how to be a man? He obviously isn't able to do it on his own quite yet" or...actually...I don't know. I still feel tongue tied. Because at the same time, maybe this dad is past helping his son. If so, I can't expect to change that and feel presumptuous making the assumption that this dad should want to be more involved in his son's life.
And I think that's part of the issue--it is hard for me, in the moment, to 1.) trust my instincts 2.) feel confident enough to assert my professional opinion 3.) assess what the clients are actually bringing to the table 4.) know when it is ok to change directions or keep the conversation focused, no matter how badly the client is trying to steer it in a different direction. Yikes.
I need to learn distance, how to not get so wrapped up in what they are telling me. Keep my mind clear and keep a series of questions that will keep things moving forward. It is a balance between respecting their ideas while helping them grow. Ahhh...that is the hard part. Hopefully this will get easier. If it doesn't, the pressure to figure out what to say will wear me down. I don't want it to and they say that it takes practice and experience yet I can't help but wonder...'What if I'm just not cut out for this?' So, please, bear with me as I get past my insecurities and determine the extent of my abilities. The drive is there, no doubt! Hopefully it just takes a while and isn't something that will always be frustrating.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sharing the Burden
Sometimes a huge barrier in my work with families is what we call 'the mental health piece.' This means that if moms, dads, or kids have a mental health problem like depression, bipolar or schizophrenia, progress is almost impossible because the individual with the mental health problem is essentially creating a roadblock for the rest of the family.
When that happens, we refer family members to a psychiatrist so they can get a mental health assessment. After the assessment, medication may be recommended or the psychiatrist may other treatment recommendations. If it is serious enough, it may be decided that our program will not be able to adequately address the client's needs. More than anything, the psychiatrist helps me share the burden of how to structure treatment with people that have serious mental health problems.
And why am I talking about this? A few weeks ago, a client admits he has been having suicidal and homicidal thoughts within the past month and also has a plan of how he would follow through with these thoughts if 'it ever got bad enough.' He also had a pretty high score on this legit depression inventory we give all clients at intake. Yikes, right? Right. Then within the next week, a whole bunch of other stressors occur; while he doesn't admit that he is thinking about suicide more, his affect is anything but cheery and I'm worried.
I put in a referral for him to see our psychiatrist (a free service) but the client doesn't want to go and is upset (probably an understatement) with me for putting in this referral. The client's dad also thinks I'm blowing things out of proportion and tries to normalize the kids thoughts.
That sort of conversation is actually really stressful. I am a private person so I totally understand not wanting to talk to a stranger about my most serious problems. YET--the burden of being the only who knows that this kid is having fairly active suicidal thoughts is not fun. In fact, it is rather scary. In addition to worrying about the overall safety and welfare of this kid and his family, I can't help but worry about the liability of having a kid die on my watch. Furthermore, if something (heaven forbid) were to happen, how would I handle the guilt, horror, shame, sorrow, etc while continuing to working in this field? That is the sort of thing you think about as you fall asleep at night. I hope it gets easier as I get better at having those conversations.
Needless to say, when my client showed up for his appointment, I did a jump for joy and breathed in some relief. Knowing that another mental health professional is in the picture to share the responsibility of keeping this kid safe is immensely comforting.
Luckily this kid is OK. The psychiatrist agreed that his depression was serious enough to warrant some professional monitoring on his end, but didn't think the kid needed hospitalization, medication, or something more intense than I could provide. In the month that has passed, his moods have improved as his situation has and I no longer worry about suicide. He has his follow -up appointment later this week and of course, he is mad at me for making him go again. At this point, I don't even care about his attitude. Having someone else confirm my instincts or point out something I didn't know is worth more than I ever realized.
When that happens, we refer family members to a psychiatrist so they can get a mental health assessment. After the assessment, medication may be recommended or the psychiatrist may other treatment recommendations. If it is serious enough, it may be decided that our program will not be able to adequately address the client's needs. More than anything, the psychiatrist helps me share the burden of how to structure treatment with people that have serious mental health problems.
And why am I talking about this? A few weeks ago, a client admits he has been having suicidal and homicidal thoughts within the past month and also has a plan of how he would follow through with these thoughts if 'it ever got bad enough.' He also had a pretty high score on this legit depression inventory we give all clients at intake. Yikes, right? Right. Then within the next week, a whole bunch of other stressors occur; while he doesn't admit that he is thinking about suicide more, his affect is anything but cheery and I'm worried.
I put in a referral for him to see our psychiatrist (a free service) but the client doesn't want to go and is upset (probably an understatement) with me for putting in this referral. The client's dad also thinks I'm blowing things out of proportion and tries to normalize the kids thoughts.
That sort of conversation is actually really stressful. I am a private person so I totally understand not wanting to talk to a stranger about my most serious problems. YET--the burden of being the only who knows that this kid is having fairly active suicidal thoughts is not fun. In fact, it is rather scary. In addition to worrying about the overall safety and welfare of this kid and his family, I can't help but worry about the liability of having a kid die on my watch. Furthermore, if something (heaven forbid) were to happen, how would I handle the guilt, horror, shame, sorrow, etc while continuing to working in this field? That is the sort of thing you think about as you fall asleep at night. I hope it gets easier as I get better at having those conversations.
Needless to say, when my client showed up for his appointment, I did a jump for joy and breathed in some relief. Knowing that another mental health professional is in the picture to share the responsibility of keeping this kid safe is immensely comforting.
Luckily this kid is OK. The psychiatrist agreed that his depression was serious enough to warrant some professional monitoring on his end, but didn't think the kid needed hospitalization, medication, or something more intense than I could provide. In the month that has passed, his moods have improved as his situation has and I no longer worry about suicide. He has his follow -up appointment later this week and of course, he is mad at me for making him go again. At this point, I don't even care about his attitude. Having someone else confirm my instincts or point out something I didn't know is worth more than I ever realized.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Panic (Not Mine)
This afternoon I was working with a family where the mom always likes to remind me that her kid has Conduct Disorder (aka--a perjorative term for a kid who has been through a lot in his short life and is externalizing emotions). There is no doubt that he is potentially on the road towards a misery of antisocial behavior and its ramifications...I just don't like that term. Anyways, school's starting, he has terrible sleeping and social habits, and we were trying to figure out a plan to get prepared for school so truancy doesn't become an issue this year.
I start to suggest limiting his time at the computer by a simple equation of he has to do something productive for an hour a day or he loses an hour of computer time (he spends over 10 hours a day on it). The poor kid FLIPED OUT.
He jumped up, stands in his mom's face, yells expletives at her and his body positioned like he might hurt her. I got up, yelled at him to back off, and moved to separate them (which was probably stupid). Before I reached them he had already left the room and went outside, breaking the screen door on his way out.
That part wasn't a big deal. Sure it got my heart pounding and I was thinking, OK so if he hits her, what do I do? But I've had to intervene in situations like that before. Teenagers get really pissed sometimes. I get that.
The saddest part was 15 minutes later...I finished calming things with his mom and wanted to check on the kid (14) and get him to do a UA for me (yes, I have to collect pee for a living).
The poor kid was curled up in the fetus position on the back swing. I asked him what he was thinking and he just loses it. Starts heaving heavy sobs...I let him cry for a moment but started to worry this was something else when he starts gasping for air and saying he feels funny all over.
From that point on, I just treated his behavior like a panic attack. I've never had them, just heard and read about them, so who knows what was effective. I sat next to him on the swing, patted his sweaty back (does that break the personal space boundary for the therapist of a 14 year old boy?) engaged him in some breathing and counting exercises and told him what was going on in his body and why he was probably feeling what he was feeling. He cycled in and out of his sobs and choking for breath several times, but he eventually calmed. Whew.
When it was over, he let out his Beavis and Butthead laugh and kept muttering comments like "This is probably the most akward thing ever for you, isn't it?" "Wow, you've probably never seen anything like that before, huh?" or "I guess I'm just a pissed off little kid" "I don't know where that came from...I'm really sorry" etc. Embarrassment. The stoic 14 year old trying to make a comeback. I assured him that I've seen much worse and was glad it happened in front of me because I now I know what emotions are really running through him. We created a plan for if something like that happens again and I was gone.
I guess I'm writing about this because it was a little shocking. I'm still so green at this job that I haven't seen it all yet. He's a tall lanky kid, wears a lot of black, and has a way of glaring and rolling his eyes that you would not believe. Sometimes I've wanted to pull a Homer Simpson move by ringing his neck and saying "Why you little..."
But then the contrast of tonight. The fetal position and tears. Hearing him talk about the only reason he's living where he's living is because his dad beat the sh** out of him and he didn't want to deal with that anymore. Can you blame him?
So...now I am trying to figure out what our next step is. How do we address his anger, his anxiety, his need for control while not letting him get away with everything?? Teaching his mom to be the comforter instead of me? Thank goodness for supervisors and team members. My work is cut out for me.
I start to suggest limiting his time at the computer by a simple equation of he has to do something productive for an hour a day or he loses an hour of computer time (he spends over 10 hours a day on it). The poor kid FLIPED OUT.
He jumped up, stands in his mom's face, yells expletives at her and his body positioned like he might hurt her. I got up, yelled at him to back off, and moved to separate them (which was probably stupid). Before I reached them he had already left the room and went outside, breaking the screen door on his way out.
That part wasn't a big deal. Sure it got my heart pounding and I was thinking, OK so if he hits her, what do I do? But I've had to intervene in situations like that before. Teenagers get really pissed sometimes. I get that.
The saddest part was 15 minutes later...I finished calming things with his mom and wanted to check on the kid (14) and get him to do a UA for me (yes, I have to collect pee for a living).
The poor kid was curled up in the fetus position on the back swing. I asked him what he was thinking and he just loses it. Starts heaving heavy sobs...I let him cry for a moment but started to worry this was something else when he starts gasping for air and saying he feels funny all over.
From that point on, I just treated his behavior like a panic attack. I've never had them, just heard and read about them, so who knows what was effective. I sat next to him on the swing, patted his sweaty back (does that break the personal space boundary for the therapist of a 14 year old boy?) engaged him in some breathing and counting exercises and told him what was going on in his body and why he was probably feeling what he was feeling. He cycled in and out of his sobs and choking for breath several times, but he eventually calmed. Whew.
When it was over, he let out his Beavis and Butthead laugh and kept muttering comments like "This is probably the most akward thing ever for you, isn't it?" "Wow, you've probably never seen anything like that before, huh?" or "I guess I'm just a pissed off little kid" "I don't know where that came from...I'm really sorry" etc. Embarrassment. The stoic 14 year old trying to make a comeback. I assured him that I've seen much worse and was glad it happened in front of me because I now I know what emotions are really running through him. We created a plan for if something like that happens again and I was gone.
I guess I'm writing about this because it was a little shocking. I'm still so green at this job that I haven't seen it all yet. He's a tall lanky kid, wears a lot of black, and has a way of glaring and rolling his eyes that you would not believe. Sometimes I've wanted to pull a Homer Simpson move by ringing his neck and saying "Why you little..."
But then the contrast of tonight. The fetal position and tears. Hearing him talk about the only reason he's living where he's living is because his dad beat the sh** out of him and he didn't want to deal with that anymore. Can you blame him?
So...now I am trying to figure out what our next step is. How do we address his anger, his anxiety, his need for control while not letting him get away with everything?? Teaching his mom to be the comforter instead of me? Thank goodness for supervisors and team members. My work is cut out for me.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Court
Juvenile court is shockingly informal. People come in and out of the courtroom at will and huddles of people are everywhere...in the corners, the doorway, the pews. I'm usually part of those huddles, consulting the adolescent on what is happening, what the judge will be looking for, how the attorney will bargain...the guardian ad litem (the court appointed legal advocate for the youth), the caseworker, and the defense attorney usually do all the speaking. I sit back since the court is their arena for progress and the home is mine. At the very least, I try to say something strengths-based to the family; listening to the "professional team" as they point their fingers at all the changes that haven't been made gets old.
Anyways, the courtroom is loud and chaotic, nervous energy emanates from kids and parents. I understand that energy, I feel it for my clients sometimes. Will they been taken away to detention? Will the judge order work weekends, community service, question the youth's safety in the home? Sometimes you see the defiant teen, more concerned with their style than their charges. Sometimes there's the tired parent, almost hoping the court system will make their lives easier by enforcing a harsh consequence on their child. On some levels I understand where they are coming from and on another, I am a complete stranger.
Anyways, the courtroom is loud and chaotic, nervous energy emanates from kids and parents. I understand that energy, I feel it for my clients sometimes. Will they been taken away to detention? Will the judge order work weekends, community service, question the youth's safety in the home? Sometimes you see the defiant teen, more concerned with their style than their charges. Sometimes there's the tired parent, almost hoping the court system will make their lives easier by enforcing a harsh consequence on their child. On some levels I understand where they are coming from and on another, I am a complete stranger.
I always get a pang of pity when the kids from detention show up...they wear green jump suits and their wrists and ankles are in shackles. No make up, hair products, fancy shoes, jewelry...none of the embellishments that the rest of the adolescents in the courtroom thrive on. They are led in by a police officer and told to sit on the benches to the side of the magistrate, removed from everyone else. The police officer remains by their side, just in case. Whether they look terrified, resigned, angry...they all look so young. Babies, really. Their immaturity gets me every time; I find myself always wondering how much responsibility they should be forced to take for their crimes. There's something depressing, chilling, and horrifying about seeing a child locked up.
I know I'm the bleeding heart, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. That's why I do what I do, I get to be one that points out what they do well, listen to their goals, look for exceptions. It is flawed, I know. People hide things, history repeats itself, and you can't force change, even though the courts mandate it. My couple hours in juvenile court every now and again make me proud to be the court appointed optimist.
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Cell Phone
As I mentioned in my last post, I was given a cell phone by my agency so that I could regularly communicate with clients. The therapeutic model that our agency uses (Multisystemic Family Therapy) requires fairly intense client contact. We do in-home work and often have close communication with the family's other systemic supports such as probation officers, caseworkers, school teachers, etc. Needless to say, we are very involved in our client's lives for the brief time they are on our caseload.
Anyways, receiving that agency cell phone was a long awaited moment. It has mades communicating with clients easier; it not only means I am official, but it also means that I don't have to worry about wasting my personal cell minutes on work related stuff (which was a previous stressor).
Although I still get a kick that I have a "work phone," I have since discovered the hidden pros and cons.
1.) I set the ring tone to "Step by Step" by the heart throb boy band group of my tween years, New Kids on the Block. While most of the kids I work with are too young to understand the ring tone and while most of the adults are too old, I still find it really funny.
2.) A client called at 6:45 am this morning. What?! I guess this mom just HAD to know something... It made me realize that those sorts of calls are exactly what I signed up for when I took the job. Oy.
3.) Every time I see that I've missed a call or have a new voice message, I get a little anxious. "Oh great....what drama is going to unfold now that I have to try and sort through." This morning it was news that a client that had been clean for months suddenly had a UA (urine analysis) come up positive for THC (aka pot). Great. Now I have to productively put out that fire...
Technology has always been a blessing and a curse, now I just have one more way that it can (positively?) influence my life.
Anyways, receiving that agency cell phone was a long awaited moment. It has mades communicating with clients easier; it not only means I am official, but it also means that I don't have to worry about wasting my personal cell minutes on work related stuff (which was a previous stressor).
Although I still get a kick that I have a "work phone," I have since discovered the hidden pros and cons.
1.) I set the ring tone to "Step by Step" by the heart throb boy band group of my tween years, New Kids on the Block. While most of the kids I work with are too young to understand the ring tone and while most of the adults are too old, I still find it really funny.
2.) A client called at 6:45 am this morning. What?! I guess this mom just HAD to know something... It made me realize that those sorts of calls are exactly what I signed up for when I took the job. Oy.
3.) Every time I see that I've missed a call or have a new voice message, I get a little anxious. "Oh great....what drama is going to unfold now that I have to try and sort through." This morning it was news that a client that had been clean for months suddenly had a UA (urine analysis) come up positive for THC (aka pot). Great. Now I have to productively put out that fire...
Technology has always been a blessing and a curse, now I just have one more way that it can (positively?) influence my life.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Social Worker in Progress
I am about six weeks away from receiving my master’s in social work. I’ve just accepted my first “real” job at a place that I’ve interned for the past eight months. I was handed a cell phone, three new cases, and was even shown a mock business card reading MY NAME,
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