I officially have survived my first week back at work. Granted, it was a 2 day work week, but regardless I feel that the three day weekend I have in store is more than deserved. I spent my two days of work sleeping in as late as possible in an attempt to conserve all possible energy reserves. Despite my ability to stay up until 7am dancing in Spain, I was well aware that I would feel like I'd been hit by a truck after an 8+ hour work day. Dancing your way through the clubs in Madrid just doesn't have the same emotional toll as an evening on a psych unit. Although I definitely had my fair share of scary moments during these two days, I'm feeling like I can confidently say I'm adjusting back to life in the work world. Well the work world in my employment setting at least... Stepping through the locked doors and into the world of the IPU (Inpatient Psych Unit) left me with the feeling that I'd never left...while at the same time experiencing the sensation that everything was entirely different. I was reminded of how lucky I am to work with such creative, passionate and courageous people and it made my heart smile to see so many of their faces again.
This past week I've had numerous patients ask me why I like this job. It's always a tricky question because I'm usually caught off guard and even after a moment of brainstorming I find it impossible to sum up all my emotions on the position. Faced with this question this evening, while escorting a patient to the bathroom, I found myself responding that a lot of my friends spend their work days sitting at a desk behind a computer and never get the opportunity to escape and take people to the bathroom and watch them enjoy pudding cups in the hallway. It was an incredibly random answer...but the more I think about it the more I realize that this is often what keeps me going back to the job. It's listening to Bright Eyes and taking our pulses to see how the music affects our anxiety levels, discussing the formation of stereotypes, and yes, sneaking away to enjoy pudding cups in the hallway that makes my job exciting. Although the suspense of what's to come often leaves my heart and head racing, I doubt I'd ever wish to trade it in for a desk job. Especially when it comes to moments like I had tonight when a patient with an eating disorder expressed to me her feelings of hopelessness in the recovery process. Not feeling as though it would be good boundaries to divulge my own history when she lamented that she'd never even met anyone who'd recovered from an eating disorder, I felt momentarily stuck. I found myself thinking of the quote "How do you expect a man who's warm to understand one who's cold." How do you connect with someone going through an entirely personal and painful experience? How to let them know you simultaneously understand completely and have absolutely no clue? When you're on the other side of the stream, how do you let them know that there is a way across without belittling their current experience? And so I stumbled through my thoughts and expressed my inability to say the right words. "I don't know exactly what to say. I don't know how to make you see there's hope. But there is. There are so many who've gone through this and what you've got to believe is that even when it seems impossible you've got to keep walking the path and one day you'll get to the place where you're not just wishing you loved your body, but you actually do."
Yes, the job is emotionally draining, to the point that most nights I can barely stay awake on the drive back home (however, ironically find myself wide awake by the time I hit my bed). When I went to inform my boss of my plans to go to Spain back in February, she surprised me by her supportive attitude towards my decision. She conveyed her belief that breaks from the unit actually make people better employees because they either decide it's not for them and they quit or they realize how much the job means and they return with more passion and determination to excel in the care they provide. The vivid dreams and frequent thoughts I had regarding former patients and past work scenarios while in Spain left me assuming I'd return this summer and look elsewhere for a job. However, by the end of my trip I started to realize just how much I need this job. My soul that aspires to seek adventures wherever I may be, my heart that yearns to connect with people from all walks of life (even if only for a moment) and my mind that longs to be challenged by psychological/sociological/philosophical issues, would not be fulfilled sitting in a cubicle. Of course this is by no means a career for me, which is precisely why I'm going to start on my grad school applications this fall. But for now, I do believe it's the job of my dreams, even if on some nights all that means is I wake up shaking after a vivid dream involving the psych unit. It's all an adventure. And tonight I find myself reminded of a quote I first heard in church the Sunday before I left for Spain. It inspired me to make the difficult step of getting on the plane alone and flying away from all that had previously defined me and it inspires me now as I try to make sense of who I am back in Seattle and why I've returned to the job I so desperately wanted to escape 4 months ago:
The real damage is done by those millions who want to "survive." The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don't want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won't take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don't like to make waves — or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honor, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It's the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you'll keep it under control. If you don't make any noise, the bogeyman won't find you. But it's all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.
~Sophie Scholl
