Kintsugi
Sponsor
I could have added “survivors” to the title, but I personally don’t love the term, so instead of getting even more paralyzed by deciding between survivors or victims, I’ll let y’all (yes, I’ve officially been in the South long enough to incorporate the phrase) fill in the blank.
Anyway, okay, so I didn’t have the best experience working with traumatized teens with ED. The job was super f*cking triggering. A lot of those kids were going through something that hit way too close to home. The age group represented the worst time of my life, and it dredged up a lot, plus—SURPRISE!—I’m not actually over my ED, which some of the clients spotted quickly. That was shitty.
But, y’know, it probably wouldn’t have been such a f*cking shitshow if that place weren’t a for-profit private sector organization that was clearly more interested in insurance money than making a positive impact, and their Shadiness showed more and more by the week. I mean. It was pretty bad. After my last day, most of my coworkers also jumped ship, and one of them f*cking OD’d after being pushed into the position by his former therapist-turned-boss (I mean what the actual f*ck, right?).
So yeah, not a great experience, though it was a learning experience nonetheless.
Now I have a shot at a Real Job as a case manager for a DV/family violence nonprofit. It’s kind of one of my ideal jobs—trauma informed liaison, program coordinator, transitional manager, the Real Deal of trauma advocacy I guess, in my mind.
I’m almost a full year out from getting my Master’s, and this is the first job I’ve applied for that actually lists a Master’s as preferred. I really didn’t think they would take me seriously. I whipped up a cover letter in five minutes and applied just for shits and giggles, really. But they called today for an interview. Aaand I think I had a mini anxiety attack.
Sometimes I think I have imposter syndrome (okay, I know I have imposter syndrome). Sometimes I think I’ve been working shit jobs for so long just to survive that a Real f*cking Job with an Actual Living Wage just makes me crazy uncomfortable. It’s like I’d rather eat shit from incompetent management than have the opportunity to be somewhat competent *in* management? Idfk.
This is kind of a rant. A couple of people who care about me made it very clear that they didn’t think my mental health could tolerate this position, but now that I got a call back they’re all waving f*cking pom poms. Like—what is it? Am I a fragile ticking time bomb or a qualified professional? Both, probably.
Thanks for reading folks. I really miss it here.
Anyway, okay, so I didn’t have the best experience working with traumatized teens with ED. The job was super f*cking triggering. A lot of those kids were going through something that hit way too close to home. The age group represented the worst time of my life, and it dredged up a lot, plus—SURPRISE!—I’m not actually over my ED, which some of the clients spotted quickly. That was shitty.
But, y’know, it probably wouldn’t have been such a f*cking shitshow if that place weren’t a for-profit private sector organization that was clearly more interested in insurance money than making a positive impact, and their Shadiness showed more and more by the week. I mean. It was pretty bad. After my last day, most of my coworkers also jumped ship, and one of them f*cking OD’d after being pushed into the position by his former therapist-turned-boss (I mean what the actual f*ck, right?).
So yeah, not a great experience, though it was a learning experience nonetheless.
Now I have a shot at a Real Job as a case manager for a DV/family violence nonprofit. It’s kind of one of my ideal jobs—trauma informed liaison, program coordinator, transitional manager, the Real Deal of trauma advocacy I guess, in my mind.
I’m almost a full year out from getting my Master’s, and this is the first job I’ve applied for that actually lists a Master’s as preferred. I really didn’t think they would take me seriously. I whipped up a cover letter in five minutes and applied just for shits and giggles, really. But they called today for an interview. Aaand I think I had a mini anxiety attack.
Sometimes I think I have imposter syndrome (okay, I know I have imposter syndrome). Sometimes I think I’ve been working shit jobs for so long just to survive that a Real f*cking Job with an Actual Living Wage just makes me crazy uncomfortable. It’s like I’d rather eat shit from incompetent management than have the opportunity to be somewhat competent *in* management? Idfk.
This is kind of a rant. A couple of people who care about me made it very clear that they didn’t think my mental health could tolerate this position, but now that I got a call back they’re all waving f*cking pom poms. Like—what is it? Am I a fragile ticking time bomb or a qualified professional? Both, probably.
Thanks for reading folks. I really miss it here.