I say again, WTF? Time to rant a bit because you folks will not hold it against me for long, if at all.
(possible triggers-leaving myself open to flamespray)
Check this out:
So, as part of my "new" position at the service center, me and my counterparts are supposed to do a 40 hour course to get a Nebraska Peer-to-Peer Support Certification.
OK. Fine. No problem. One more useless certification that I will never use, never need and will be one more line on my resume'. Great.
Training I can do. Certifications I can get. Hell, I'm open to learning anything.
This abortion was neither.
Foreshadowing-
The manual is printed, in its entirety, in Comic San Serif Font...all 500 pages.
The first slide of the PowerPoint presentation is rainbows ,and I shit you not, a f*cking unicorn.
This is an official State of Nebraska SANCTIONED and SUPPORTED training cert!?!
But wait, it gets worse. They open the session with introductions. Not the normal "Hi, I'm Sludge and I work for blah blah blah..."
They open with the AA/NA/12 step program bullshit. "Hi my names is Jack Offerting, I am ten years sober and Praise Jesus, I am proud to be. I served as a cook in Georgia during Nam and never left the country, but I have PTSD and want to give back" shit. Out of 20 f*cking students in the course, every single one of them opened with this type of shit, showing off their coins with faint sweat and a glazed fervor in their eyes. Thirteen of them claimed to be veterans. Only one other was a combat vet. The rest were ALL stateside desk jockeys.
Except me, of course...
"Hi. I'm Johnny. I have a long list of neuro and psychological disorders. I was in the Navy and did many awful things far outside my area of expertise and branch of service. I am the type of person you all fear because unlike all of you I am not afraid to call bullshit when I smell it. I am here because my job required it, but since my boss is right across from me at the table, I'll state that this is the least productive, most unprofessional and least helpful training I have ever been forced to be present at. Comic Sans is for morons and if you speak to a combat vet with rainbows and unicorns in the background, you will quickly be alone in the room. Anyway, I call bullshit and just want to get this over with."
"But this training is about your recovery too!"
"Honey, I have recovered just fine. I made enough money in my old career as an industrial MRO engineer I could quit and go get a degree in Biology AND Chemistry. Am I perfect? f*ck no. But apparently I am doing better than all of you because I don't need a cult-crutch to make it through the day."
"But think of the veterans you will be helping!"
"Think of the veterans I AM helping. Every damned day. Instead of helping myself and focusing on my life long dream of being a scientist, I get to sit 10-12 hours a day in front of more veterans than all of you see in a week, combined. The bulk of which are The Doomed, and only sit in front of me because some asshole <glares at boss> thinks I'm a goddamned miracle worker and therefore only get the cases no one else will touch. I have to deal with racists and rapists and multiple felons and shitbags day in and day out. All most all of them, products of 12 step programs. All of them veterans in name only. No honor. No courage. No respect. Only here to jones for another handout because they are the ones too weak to do the right thing and pull their own heads out of their own asses Notice the percentage of Vets seeking these services is minute?Guess those programs work really well, huh?"
"But that is not what this training is about.It is about you. And most of us here are vets."
"Really? Then I'm out of here while you all get warm and cuddly. There are vets lined up at the door needing help and they have to wait because you folks are in here playing cutie-cult and have all but closed down the center to do so. They are combat hardened men and women with sand under their nails and no idea how to re-integrate. They need jobs and housing and education and help. They don't want hugs and rainbows and coins. Many of them are students and only need some guidance from a fellow student. Many just want to get away from the bimbos and morons down over the hill at the student center."
"But..."
"But nothing. This sort of crap is one of the main reasons so many veterans get lost through the cracks and eventually end up at my desk. This sort of BULLSHIT is why so many returning vets avoid you folks like the plague. This is why they get sent to me. I don't give them hugs. I give them facts. Either I can help them or help them out of my office. The ones I can help, I set them up with lives better than my own. I don't do it for them. I order them to do it for themselves and do it my way, the right way, the Navy way. Today I am going to actually do my job as a Student Veteran Outreach Associate. I am going to go and actually help the people I am paid a measly 110 bucks a week to help. I am not going to do your jobs for you today."
I got up and left.
I get it. I really do. That sort of touchy-feely Jesus Saves 12 steps to humanity bullshit works for some folks. If that is your thing, good for you.
It is not for me. It is not only offensive to my person but it is revolting. To replace an Addiction/Trauma/Crisis with a different addiction is unhealthy, illogical, and a crutch for the weak.
"Oh but this sort of thing helps so many!"
It does not, I assure you. Less than one tenth of one percent of the population that utilizes such peer support formulas actually benefits. Do the math. It is a statistically insignificant result.
All it does is substitute a cult mentality and provide a different venue to hide from reality. Period.
This state cert is not training. It is a 40 hour hug fest. I shit you not.
Quotes from the instructor:
"I love you all."
"This is about your recovery..."
"You can't help others until you help yourself."
If it is all about me, why am I in a room with 21 other people? Why am I going to be a peer support specialist when none of these people are by definition my peers? I am too young for Nam and GW1 and too old and broken for GW2. I am a combat vet in between. I am one of the ones that fell through the cracks because no one gave a shit about me and my peers because we were at "peace". (I have a medical file six inches thick that describes otherwise, but it was peace time...)
This is why I get the "special cases". I don't f*ck around and sugar coat shit. I am not politically or socially correct. I get shit done and move on at the cost of my own life. I am merely a wad of gap filler in a system that has great intentions and little action. I defend my co-workers at the MVSC. We do it the right way. Every time civilians or government folks get involved it all goes to shit.
I called bullshit. I went and got four guys jobs, two started on disability claims, and guided three resume writers through their pages of jargon. Then I went to lunch and found three more vets that needed help and didn't even know where to go. I gave them my card, and two were waiting for me by the time I got back from lunch.
By losing my cool and storming out of that bullshit, I actually got to help vets who wanted and needed help. Not handouts. Help. In months of doing this sort of work, I got to actually HELP more vets that actually earned and deserved help then I have had in the last four months.
There is Nebraska peer-to-peer support for you. I do not need the cert. I do not need the cult. I sure as shit do not have 40 hours to waste sharing feelings with a bunch of strangers in a "warm and caring" environment.
The truly frightening part? The trainer was a VA employee!!!!! Our tax dollars paid for that horseshit! It is the standard by which other State's programs are set! Jesus Ezekiel Jesus the Christos on a crutch made of corn dogs.
Note. This was me operating with low blood pressure, a sodium deficiency, reduced kidney function AND a fruit salad of VA issued brain pills (which have been changed 4 timers in 7 days). I am still pissed off. I am offended. I am insulted. I have a heart rate of 35 BPM. On top of that, I have been fighting the beast again pretty hard for the first time in a while. The Beast got loose, I went and got help, their quick fix destroyed my health, and now I am barely keeping it together and idiots are cramming bullshit in my face.
And I am sorry.
I will not be able to help any vets the rest of this week.
I am staying at home and getting my school work caught back up, hunting for a lab job somewhere, and avoiding those dickbags and their cult of squishy feelings.
"You can't help others until yo help yourself."
Goddamned straight. This week I AM going to help my self.
Sludge is back and Johnny goes on hiatus for a while.
Johnny fights the beast and loses more often than not.
Sludge makes the beast his bitch.
(possible triggers-leaving myself open to flamespray)
Check this out:
So, as part of my "new" position at the service center, me and my counterparts are supposed to do a 40 hour course to get a Nebraska Peer-to-Peer Support Certification.
OK. Fine. No problem. One more useless certification that I will never use, never need and will be one more line on my resume'. Great.
Training I can do. Certifications I can get. Hell, I'm open to learning anything.
This abortion was neither.
Foreshadowing-
The manual is printed, in its entirety, in Comic San Serif Font...all 500 pages.
The first slide of the PowerPoint presentation is rainbows ,and I shit you not, a f*cking unicorn.
This is an official State of Nebraska SANCTIONED and SUPPORTED training cert!?!
But wait, it gets worse. They open the session with introductions. Not the normal "Hi, I'm Sludge and I work for blah blah blah..."
They open with the AA/NA/12 step program bullshit. "Hi my names is Jack Offerting, I am ten years sober and Praise Jesus, I am proud to be. I served as a cook in Georgia during Nam and never left the country, but I have PTSD and want to give back" shit. Out of 20 f*cking students in the course, every single one of them opened with this type of shit, showing off their coins with faint sweat and a glazed fervor in their eyes. Thirteen of them claimed to be veterans. Only one other was a combat vet. The rest were ALL stateside desk jockeys.
Except me, of course...
"Hi. I'm Johnny. I have a long list of neuro and psychological disorders. I was in the Navy and did many awful things far outside my area of expertise and branch of service. I am the type of person you all fear because unlike all of you I am not afraid to call bullshit when I smell it. I am here because my job required it, but since my boss is right across from me at the table, I'll state that this is the least productive, most unprofessional and least helpful training I have ever been forced to be present at. Comic Sans is for morons and if you speak to a combat vet with rainbows and unicorns in the background, you will quickly be alone in the room. Anyway, I call bullshit and just want to get this over with."
"But this training is about your recovery too!"
"Honey, I have recovered just fine. I made enough money in my old career as an industrial MRO engineer I could quit and go get a degree in Biology AND Chemistry. Am I perfect? f*ck no. But apparently I am doing better than all of you because I don't need a cult-crutch to make it through the day."
"But think of the veterans you will be helping!"
"Think of the veterans I AM helping. Every damned day. Instead of helping myself and focusing on my life long dream of being a scientist, I get to sit 10-12 hours a day in front of more veterans than all of you see in a week, combined. The bulk of which are The Doomed, and only sit in front of me because some asshole <glares at boss> thinks I'm a goddamned miracle worker and therefore only get the cases no one else will touch. I have to deal with racists and rapists and multiple felons and shitbags day in and day out. All most all of them, products of 12 step programs. All of them veterans in name only. No honor. No courage. No respect. Only here to jones for another handout because they are the ones too weak to do the right thing and pull their own heads out of their own asses Notice the percentage of Vets seeking these services is minute?Guess those programs work really well, huh?"
"But that is not what this training is about.It is about you. And most of us here are vets."
"Really? Then I'm out of here while you all get warm and cuddly. There are vets lined up at the door needing help and they have to wait because you folks are in here playing cutie-cult and have all but closed down the center to do so. They are combat hardened men and women with sand under their nails and no idea how to re-integrate. They need jobs and housing and education and help. They don't want hugs and rainbows and coins. Many of them are students and only need some guidance from a fellow student. Many just want to get away from the bimbos and morons down over the hill at the student center."
"But..."
"But nothing. This sort of crap is one of the main reasons so many veterans get lost through the cracks and eventually end up at my desk. This sort of BULLSHIT is why so many returning vets avoid you folks like the plague. This is why they get sent to me. I don't give them hugs. I give them facts. Either I can help them or help them out of my office. The ones I can help, I set them up with lives better than my own. I don't do it for them. I order them to do it for themselves and do it my way, the right way, the Navy way. Today I am going to actually do my job as a Student Veteran Outreach Associate. I am going to go and actually help the people I am paid a measly 110 bucks a week to help. I am not going to do your jobs for you today."
I got up and left.
I get it. I really do. That sort of touchy-feely Jesus Saves 12 steps to humanity bullshit works for some folks. If that is your thing, good for you.
It is not for me. It is not only offensive to my person but it is revolting. To replace an Addiction/Trauma/Crisis with a different addiction is unhealthy, illogical, and a crutch for the weak.
"Oh but this sort of thing helps so many!"
It does not, I assure you. Less than one tenth of one percent of the population that utilizes such peer support formulas actually benefits. Do the math. It is a statistically insignificant result.
All it does is substitute a cult mentality and provide a different venue to hide from reality. Period.
This state cert is not training. It is a 40 hour hug fest. I shit you not.
Quotes from the instructor:
"I love you all."
"This is about your recovery..."
"You can't help others until you help yourself."
If it is all about me, why am I in a room with 21 other people? Why am I going to be a peer support specialist when none of these people are by definition my peers? I am too young for Nam and GW1 and too old and broken for GW2. I am a combat vet in between. I am one of the ones that fell through the cracks because no one gave a shit about me and my peers because we were at "peace". (I have a medical file six inches thick that describes otherwise, but it was peace time...)
This is why I get the "special cases". I don't f*ck around and sugar coat shit. I am not politically or socially correct. I get shit done and move on at the cost of my own life. I am merely a wad of gap filler in a system that has great intentions and little action. I defend my co-workers at the MVSC. We do it the right way. Every time civilians or government folks get involved it all goes to shit.
I called bullshit. I went and got four guys jobs, two started on disability claims, and guided three resume writers through their pages of jargon. Then I went to lunch and found three more vets that needed help and didn't even know where to go. I gave them my card, and two were waiting for me by the time I got back from lunch.
By losing my cool and storming out of that bullshit, I actually got to help vets who wanted and needed help. Not handouts. Help. In months of doing this sort of work, I got to actually HELP more vets that actually earned and deserved help then I have had in the last four months.
There is Nebraska peer-to-peer support for you. I do not need the cert. I do not need the cult. I sure as shit do not have 40 hours to waste sharing feelings with a bunch of strangers in a "warm and caring" environment.
The truly frightening part? The trainer was a VA employee!!!!! Our tax dollars paid for that horseshit! It is the standard by which other State's programs are set! Jesus Ezekiel Jesus the Christos on a crutch made of corn dogs.
Note. This was me operating with low blood pressure, a sodium deficiency, reduced kidney function AND a fruit salad of VA issued brain pills (which have been changed 4 timers in 7 days). I am still pissed off. I am offended. I am insulted. I have a heart rate of 35 BPM. On top of that, I have been fighting the beast again pretty hard for the first time in a while. The Beast got loose, I went and got help, their quick fix destroyed my health, and now I am barely keeping it together and idiots are cramming bullshit in my face.
And I am sorry.
I will not be able to help any vets the rest of this week.
I am staying at home and getting my school work caught back up, hunting for a lab job somewhere, and avoiding those dickbags and their cult of squishy feelings.
"You can't help others until yo help yourself."
Goddamned straight. This week I AM going to help my self.
Sludge is back and Johnny goes on hiatus for a while.
Johnny fights the beast and loses more often than not.
Sludge makes the beast his bitch.
