On the first day of twenty-ten, Sweet Baboo and I woke up at ten am. EASILY the latest I have slept unless ill or injured or post-partum in perhaps as long as twenty years. Sweetface was tromping up and down the hallway, and when I gently suggested to him that there were ways to be quieter, and he stared at me, mystified and amazed. I was being quiet, Mom.
But anyway. We both woke up, and nearly simultaneously blurted out, "I don't want to go do a race today." Then we giggled and dived back under the covers.
Later, Baboo went for Starbucks while I made beans, tamales, and eggs. We settled in for the day-long "criminal minds" marathon. Yesterday evening, we took Sweetface to the bus station.
Meanwhile, both of us are relieved that I'm employed, but I'm extremely relieved to finally be doing something that your average trained monkey couldn't do. Of course, there's a lot of bad stuff that I have to be careful not to take home with me--I assess kids that have been abused, kids that are mentally ill, and kids that, in all honestly, are fine, other than their horrible parents. A couple months ago I wrote a paper on self-care for people in the behavioral health professions, so I know how to take care of myself. I vent. I journal. I run.
But the work is fascinating. The atmosphere is nice, and they're decent to me, I like my coworkers, I have a nice office, and it fits with my life's philosophy that we should always try to ease suffering and leave the world a better place. They trust me to know what I'm doing, and leave me alone to do it. Best of all, I'm BUSY.
If the pay were higher, it would be perfect, but I'm satisfied with things the way they are. It's odd. I don't have as much time to work out, but I'm still happy. I guess there's no discounting enjoying your craft. I mean, you spend 40 hours a week at it, right? A sucky job has the power to really affect your life.
So. I have a house I love. A job I love. A man I love. (Who loves me back). The kids are all grown, and seem to be doing well. No, I'm not willowy, (perhaps I never will be) but I'm just going to focus on being strong and having fun. Tomorrow, we're riding the Tram up to Sandia Peak, doing a little snowshoeing, and then hiking down.
1. Friday: I went shopping, and bought 2 weeks of: oranges, eggs, soup, yogurt. I like to have those things during the day when I'm working. I have an energy drink/protein shake for breakfast, and then mid morning, between assessments, I'll have my orange and hard-boiled egg. Soup for lunch, or hummus sandwich and vegetables. (I have a lot of hummus leftover from my party. NOBODY ate any, and it was on sale. Hope it freezes. Also, my favorite instant green tea. I'll take my boiler to work, so I can have hot tea.
2. Saturday: I ran about 10 miles. I felt awful after. My adductors, mostly. I think. The muscles that lift your legs. OW. One hot bath later, I felt much better.
Still. OW. Should I be hurting this much? I thought I had a bigger base than this. Ghost Town is ONE MONTH AWAY, Y'ALL!
3. Later Saturday: Baboo had a work holiday party to go to, but he took me shopping for a few new items to celebrate my new job instead. I had a flash of insight: "Do you realize that this will be my first job employed in my new profession?" I asked Baboo.
"I do," he said.
I hadn't I mean, this will be the first salaried position I've held that required my mental health counselor's license. I would not have been hired without it. I have now officially moved on.
4. Sunday: I packed up my most useful professional books in a bag and stuck them in my car, so that they can be housed in my new OFFICE. Also, my resistance bands.
I packed our lunches at night, a new habit I'll try to establish.
5. Monday: I got up at 5. I ran 3 miles on the treadmill, then made coffee. I'm going to do this every day except Wednesdays and Fridays, when I'll do resistance training. I left for work at 7:30. I was there before 8:00.
They kind of tossed me in the office, and gave me a general idea of what I'll be doing.
I found the bathroom, mail room, microwave, and other important places.
6. Monday, p. 2: No facebook, youtube, or personal email at work. But the best thing is I'm busy, busy, busy doing interesting stuff. I can talk about it, but only in generalities.
This hospital treats kids.
Some of them were abused. Some of them abuse.
Some of them are mentally ill.
Some of them are cognitively disabled, and their families can't take care of them.
Some of them are substance abusers.
Some of them have families who need help, not just them.
I never meet these kids, for the most part.
7. Monday, p. 3: They gave me a nice office. And kept acting grateful that I was there. They handed me an assessment, and I worked on it for about three hours. My job is to take information about adolescents or children, and then diagnose and write a treatment plan for them. It's a psychiatric hospital. Heavy stuff. I call social workers and schools and talk to parents. The day FLEW by. I worried that I wasn't doing the right work.
Then, at the end of the day, they were all like, "so, are you coming back tomorrow?"
?? IS there something about this job that they're keeping hidden from me?
8. Tuesday: I got up at 5 and ran 3 miles. I watch bits and pieces of a movie while running on the Dreadmill. This week, it's Fried Green Tomatoes.
I had three new cases. Generally, I get three a day. Each one takes me 2-3 hours to complete. Sometimes they are people actually showing up. Sometimes they are pages of information and reports and I never actually meet the kid, but in both cases I put together a puzzle, and the solution to the puzzle is, what's wrong with this kid, and how can we help him/her? Every time a kid seeks treatment at this facility, their case goes through me, and I determine whether or not they need treatment, what kind, what's best for the kid and his/her family. Sometimes I call a parent, or a case worker, and ask more questions. It's interesting, and challenging, putting these puzzles together.
The hours fly by.
I mention to one of the directors the potential for being overwhelmed by the sadness and tragedy of these young, ruined lives.
He furrowed his brow for a moment, and then smiled. "Lets not call them ruined," he said. "Ravaged, maybe. But not ruined."
9. Wednesday: Up at 5 again, another 3 miles on the treadmill. Fried Green Tomatoes is almost over. I think Friday, I'll put in Practical Magic. For some reason, quirky chick movies work really well for this treadmill project.
As long as I can be asleep soon after 9, this works for me. Anything that keeps me up is DISASTER. Gotta have my eight hours.
Meanwhile.
I haven't done a single strength or flexibility workout. So what I've decided is, starting next week, Mondays and Wednesdays will be days that instead of doing my 3-4 miles on the treadmill, I'll do a strength and flexibility workout instead.
10. Wednesday, P. 2: This week, I with a parent and child and had the pleasure to tell the parent, well gosh, your kid is normal. of course, in behavioral health, we say developmentally appropriate. Which means, your kids behavior isn't that far off from other kids the same age.
Yes, unfortunately, kids are sometimes insufferably annoying. Sometimes they aren't what we want them to be. Sorry about that.
But congratulations on how normal your kids is.
Not everything is about pathology.
Some things are just life.
Sometimes life is work.
I'm feeling good about what I do. I'm helping people.
11. Wednesday, P. 3: I plugged in my boiler at work to make some tea, and blew a circuit. Lost all the power in my office, shutting down my computer, and I suspect the offices on either side of me, except that those people happen to be out today, so we'll never know. Thank goodness.
It's cold tea for me, for now. I wonder if a mug warmer would be okay?
They still like me. Still want to know if I'm coming back tomorrow.
12. Thursday. It's Thursday. My commute is about 25 minutes, not bad, mostly at a breakneck pace straight down the freeway. I'm close to it at one end, work is close to it at the other end. Far left lane.
No telephone. No radio. Just some music.
Nothing to take my attention away from speeding down the freeway.
I like it.
13. Weekly wrap-up:
I like my job.
I'm actually running more now.
I was happy to report to unemployment office that I'm working.
I'm not sure how classes are going to fit into this schedule when they start in a month.
I'm working out how Ironman training will commence in late February.
I'm going to just focus on running and strength training for now.
I feel like a trained, skilled, appreciated professional.
I like my job.
I'm sitting here waiting for the sun to come up so I can start my long run - It's in the low thirties right now, which is the warmest it's been all week. Damn, I am SICK of winter! Of course, I'll probably miss the cold in July.
So, I passed my background check, and was fingerprinted, and peed in a cup, and then they asked me for my social security card. I made a face like I was thinking really hard. You know the one: You furrow your brow, and look down and to the right right, and maybe bite your lip...but deep inside, I knew: I was never going to find that sucker. I had moved since the last time I'd ever even LOOKED at it, and almost certainly I tucked it into some place so that it wouldn't get lost, the location of which is buried somewhere deep behind memories that I don't need, like how Led Zepelin got their name.
Which meant I would have to go down to the social security office to get another one. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
They also asked for transcripts, and I couldn't find the one that seemed to be in my way for the past couple months, so I invoked murphy's law immediately, wrote a check for $4 and mailed it off to my college for copies, and of course, three hours later, I found it. They are extra careful about background checks. After all, their primary clients are children and adolescents.
Then Friday, I talked to them, and they said that they wanted me to get started right away. Could I come in oh, about 8:30ish so they could settle me into my office and set me up on my computer? Oh, also, I was told, they were in a meeting discussing my salary, which was likely to be higher than they had originally quoted me.
MY OFFICE!
Ask anyone I"m obsessed with offices. For 9 years, I had a giant office through which troops of teenagers tromped every day, writing on my furniture (which I always had to clean) and sticking gum under it. Then at the counseling center, nobody had their own office, you fought over space on a daily basis, and if you were dumb enough to try to keep your stuff anywhere, interns would take it. The walls were thin, thin, thin, too.
How can it be that I am finally starting a job doing what I've wanted to do, for what appears to be decent organization that treats me respectfully? How?
Have I finally burned off a lot of bad Karma?
Maybe.
Speaking of burning, I still have a lot of catchup to do after eating so much the last couple of weeks.
I'm going for a run.
(PS: as I'm writing this, I'm observing a few things. Sweet Baboo, you should know that the cat licks your popcorn bowl when you're not around. )
10. I have an office, with a door that locks. It has a desk, a computer, a bookcase, a window, and a couple of chairs. I have never had an office before. The closest I had was a classroom, and 90 people trooped through there every day, throwing trash on the floor, occasionally spitting, and writing on my stuff. 9. I'm going to have my own laser printer soon. They actually apologized for not having it ready the first day.
8. There's a mariachi band every Wednesday in the lobby, next to the coffee shop.
7. Did I mention the coffee shop? They have lattes, mochas, smoothies, and pastries. It's run by vets and benefits veterans industries, so I am contributing to the greater good while indulging my coffee habit.
6. There is a medical library. Today they, like, printed stuff for me. FOR ME. Just because I asked. They didn't charge me, or take it out of my photocopy "limit," either. I don't have a photocopy limit. When I asked someone about that, she looked like me as if I'd asked about Sasquatch.
5. Any and all employee training takes place during the day, while I'm at work. They don't expect me to stay after work to do it.
4. There is a 1/4 mile track through a park in front of my building. It is shaded by very old cottonwood trees and includes some bars and benches to stretch on. It's just part of this really beautiful old campus that is mostly a collection of century old pueblo-style buildings. There is a new, modern facility for the medical center, but all old building are still in use. Behavioral health, where I work, is in the original veteran's hospital building.
3. I have my very own panic button! It's mounted under my desk and apparently if I push it, armed guards will instantly rush to my aid. Should be pretty fast, given that the VA Police are 3 doors away from my office.
2. Everyone smiles all the time and seems very happy to be there.
1. Except for the occasionally disgruntled patient being escorted down the hall by the VA Police who are 3 doors down.
It's official. The job I interviewed for last Friday is mine.
I hadn't said much about it because I've applied for so many jobs outside of teaching in the past couple years and I didn't want to get invested in the outcome of the interview, only to be disappointed again.
I was also offered an interview at a local high school for the position of math teacher, but after I stopped laughing I politely declined. My new job title: Study Coordinator. I'll be employed by a private medical research foundation and be working out of the VA hospital. It's a 3-year position.
What I'll be doing: at any given, any or all of the following:
Visiting mental health agencies, hospitals, and clinics and presenting research studies to clinicians and possibly patients, in order to recruit subjects for psychiatric research.
Administering psychometric tests to patients before, during, and at the conclusion of research studies.
Coordinating paperwork for research studies.
Things said in the interview that made me wnt this job:
"We really don't have time to track your comings and goings or micromanage you."
"The research mostly involves the more severe and persistent mental illnesses."
"You'll never be doing the same thing all the time."
I'll still work at the counseling center for a couple evenings a week, but I needed something a bit more dependable; that whole sometimes people show up and you get paid, and sometimes they don't and you don't thing was a little unsettling. I'm not yet at a point in my career where I can be that casual about income.
And, my record is intact. Other than a fifteen-month mutually agreed-upon break right before and after my 3rd child was born, 17 years ago, I've never not had an income since the age of fifteen.
The new job pays about the same as I was making as a HS teacher, but the raises will come more often and at predictable intervals.
I'll get to ride in, ride home, and lunch with Sweet Baboo.
The mysterious and supportive MJ sent me a couple of really great quotes, which I intend to print out nice and big in a nice, fancy font because I found them encouraging and also because they are entirely appropriate for a therapeutic environment:
It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power. — Alan Cohen
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter into another. — Anatole France
So, I started my shiny new life yesterday the day with a crack-of-dawn spin class at the downtown gym, some swim drills, a shower, and then a 5 block walk to the counseling center. In my previous life I had to report to work by 7:10; the counseling center doesn't don't open until 10, so counselors start showing up at 9:30. Ish.
If I show up earlier, I risk spending quality time with Evil Bill (new reocurring character), who is the Type A boss of everything. He's an ex-counselor whose with abysmal people skills. Even Dr. Ken is afraid of him, but for all his unpleasantness, as office manager, the place runs smoother and more efficiently when he gets his way. Anyway. There's a 13-page application for licensure that requires signatures, a sealed copy of my college transcript, a notary stamp, and a detailed explanation and court records of a misdemenor incident from my past (1991).
Sigh. Stupid misdemenor. It will haunt me forever. Take it from your Aunt Misty, kids: all your dumbest mistakes will wind up on your Permanant-nant-nant-nant-nantRecord-ecord-ecord-ecord-ecord.
After submitting all this paperwork I get permission to take a test called the National Cousenlor's Exam.
Meanwhile, I've begun listening to the 17 hours of NCE audio test prep on my iPod. I have fantasies about phrases like, 'highest posted score evar!' but really, I just want to pass it. (There's a marathon analogy in there somewhere.)
I got a line on a second source of work: an agency closer to my house that works with the county juvenile justice system. I took a DSM class with the woman who that runs it and she remembers me, so I'm waiting to hear back from her about this.
And here's another thing: today I sent my youngest son off for 6 weeks with relatives in Dallas.
Six. Weeks.
For the first time since 1984, I will be an adult living in a home with no children in it. Sweet Baboo is beyond excited because he gets to have me all to himself. So anyway I started cleaning house, and I'm stunned at the havoc that a teenage boy can wreak. Is EVERTHING a trashcan to teenage boys? I found trash in the umbrella holder, the couch, under the couch, under two rugs, behind various pieces of furniture, tucked into the crevices of the kitchen chairs, and in a cabinet that we use to hold our Costco overflow. Oh, and also, EVERYTHING is apparently a laundry hamper to teenage boys, as well.
Ugh.
Tomorrow: I do my final "checkout" and the exit interview for my old school district, where I answer the question, "why did you quit?" What ever will I say? Or not say? Hmmm...
Item number 1:This is not me. I never thought I'd see someone with the same name as me.
Item #2: Today I turned in my letter of resignation. I got lots of hugs and exortations to keep in touch. A couple ignored me. I ignored them, too.
Item #3: I'm starting a new job at a not-for-profit community counseling center I've written about before. It is a a colorful place full of colorful characters, downtown, and it's two blocks from a branch of my gym, a couple blocks from one of the main bike paths that goes through town, and near the light rail station. It's very low budget. Frequently there are not enough rooms to counsel a client, so we go for a walk, or get coffee, or sit in the park. You get paid when clients show up, and then you don't get paid a lot, and it is run by Dr. Ken.
Item #4: Introducing: Dr. Ken, my new boss. Dr. Ken is an enigma. At first glance he is an old hippie, with his white ponytail, but is deceptively sharp given his penchant for pretending to be a doddering old guy. He's the clinical director and a professor at the school where I got my counseling degree. He's worked in mental health for over 30 years, has a PhD in counseling psychology and an MSW, and he knows a lot of stuff and has a lot of great stories. I did my internship at the center he directs.
Dr. Ken has white (formerly red) hair and light blue eyes. He is of Jewish ancestry and yet, somehow, also descended from Baptist Indian missionairies. As a result, he is third generation born and raised on the Laguna Pueblo Indian Reservation, and is a full member of the Laguna tribe and speaks fluent Laguna. Then there's this: the counseling center is run by a Greek Orthodox church, where Dr. Ken is some sort of priest or something. So, every once in a while he and a bunch of the other guys that work at the center stop by on their way to services, and so they're four guys in a small white car wearing large black pointy hats. It always brings to mind the Elbonians, and yes, I've shared this with Dr. Ken.
Dr. Ken tells great stories. He also enjoys lying about me for some reason I cannot fathom. He'll introduce me to someone who's never met me, with a perfectly straight face, and say something like, "When I first met Miss Misty she was pole-dancing at a place on Central, and had just been arrested for punching a cop. She's come a long way."
Which leaves it to me to shake my head at the astonished stranger: "He's lying. I'm from the suburbs. And I've never even been to jail."
So Dr. Ken was on my thesis committee, and after I presented my thesis, he wanted to know when I was coming to work for him. This was perhaps the ninth or tenth time he's asked that. And I always used to laugh and say, "you can't afford me."
but this time, well,
this time.
I took a deep breath, and I said, "Wednesday, May 21st,"
and he was delighted. Delighted.
So, welcome to my new life. Teacher Misty: exit, stage left. Enter: Counselor Misty.
We had precipitation here in the desert last night, and it was frozen and stuff. Predictably, city officials flapped their hands a bit and after ascertaining that this was not the apocalypse they put school on a 2-hour delay.
So I headed into work early. Hmm. I know we're on a two hour delay, but where is everyone? I came in and sat down at my desk this morning in my nice, warm classroom. I would take advantage of the two-hour delay to get caught up on paperwork. A bit later, a janitor popped his head in my room, "Jeez, you guys are dedicated!" and then popped back out. Later, I went to get some water--still nobody around--and one of the maintenance crew said, "You know there's no school today, right?"
Uh, No, I did not know that.
Now that the streets are rapidly melting I head down to CompUSA to find out if there's a warranty on my dead laptop. Turns out that, indeed, in a rare moment of lucidity I purchased some sort of monster warranty that expires in 2011. Swweeeeeet.
