On Tuesday, my colleagues at Child Study & Treatment Center had a Farewell Potluck for me. The whole thing was really thoughtful. They invited Miral to come join us. Jane adorned the announcement with a globe and a passport. Brenda decorated the large conference room with globes and travel brochures and maps and tapestries and African decorations – and menorahs. People went to town making dishes – Jake’s Yakisoba, Byron’s curried potatoes and vegetables. Chili. Salads. All vegetarian for me (well, except for the bucket of KFC chicken Dr. Jack brought and tried to pass off as soy chicken). And a HUGE table of desserts – Maureen’s butterscotch clusters, Brenda’s homemade fudge, mini pecan pies, just to name a few. A big host of people took time out from their busy days (every day at CSTC is busy – the place is packed with hard, hard workers). After we chowed down, Rick shared kind words about our collaboration and friendship these last few years. Kristin, Kim, and both Jacks generously noted some of the professional things I’ve done at CSTC and, more importantly, some of the little day-to-day things. They presented Miral and I with a generous amount of money to support our journey -- a bunch of American money – but then also Colombian Pesos, Indian Rupees, and Thai Bhat so that when we get off the airplanes in those countries we won’t have to run to the currency exchange!! Kristin went to the airport currency exchange to get it for us!
So that tells you a little about the kind of people I have worked with for these last eight-plus years. At the potluck, I tried express to them what a family they have been to me. Really, how many “workplaces” would do nothing but celebrate their “co-worker’s” exciting life decisions with not even the slightest moment of acknowledgement of the added hassles and headaches that the transition will bring to them. Just pure celebration. All of the care and thoughtfulness that they put into saying good-bye is a perfect example of why I have loved working here.
For those who don’t know, CSTC is a children’s psychiatric hospital that provides long-term inpatient care to children from across Washington State who could not be maintained in other less restrictive settings. That is to say – the 47 beds at the hospital are daily filled by the most challenging children anyone can imagine. Challenged by their biology in many cases and challenged by unspeakably problematic life experiences in most. And, yet, magical things happen here. It is because the professional staff-members are so dedicated and open and willing to be who they are and focused on bringing what they have to uniquely offer. It is because a full range of programming is encouraged, from empirically-supported treatments to artistic expression to cultural and spiritual exploration to fun physical activity. Children seem to discover themselves here. They tend to leave the hospital on many fewer medications with many more coping skills. Some of them regain their childhood. Some of them leave their childhood behind. I am lucky to have worked here. Even though the work I was doing for the juvenile courts was sometimes pretty removed from the main mission and functioning of the hospital, I was unendingly inspired in my work by the heart poured out by everyone around me.
But now I am clearing out my office and preparing to hand it over to Julie. A quirky office with one entire wall of windows and one wall of exposed brick oddly painted shiny orange! With a huge desk, but piles still covering the floor. A lot has happened in the eight years the office has been mine. In that office, we collaborated to solve a lot of problems. Some people laughed in there and, honestly, some of the same people openly cried there. Amazing conversations about books and articles and little pieces of life and big contemplations of life happened with people standing in the doorway of that office. And one-on-one meetings with my colleagues and trainees were filled with shared explorations of juvenile forensic psychology. Friendships were born there. I hope some helpful assistance was offered to the juvenile courts from the work done in that office. I keep having flashes to the last episode of Cheers when Sam turns out the lights in the bar and closes the door for the last time – remembering in one moment all that had happened in that space. We never got to see who Sam became when he stopped being the guy who owned Cheers. But, as groundless and sometimes scary as it feels, and as much as I really appreciate all that happened in my office, I am really looking forward to seeing who I become when I stop being the guy who worked there.
