1/14/2023 0 Comments TrustSince the middle of September, life has been a bit chaotic. I’ve attended seven funerals, my husband was diagnosed with cancer and completed his treatment, I submitted my internship paperwork then my advisor quit and I got to submit everything a second time, I applied for graduation even though I still don’t have my internship accepted, I had all my notes voided (twice) because of a hiccup with the new system, I had a birthday, and I have a grandson!
Four months. A short period of time that seemed much longer. Compared to some, my life issues don’t seem that complex, but while I was going through it, there were times when I could barely keep my head above water. Oddly, 2022 was to be my year for peace. That was my word. The word that I prayed and meditated about as a theme or direction for the year. I chose peace in my year of turmoil. In keeping with my amazing ability to choose words to guide me through the years, this year I have chosen Trust. I know that last year I could not have had the strange peace I did have without a huge amount of trust. We are two weeks into this year and I am reconsidering my word. The internship that should have been approved in October is still in limbo. The new advisor is out until next week. Not a problem except that the application for graduation has to be turned in tomorrow. My future as an LPC is in the hands of strangers who won’t answer emails. That may seem overdramatic, because it is. I could always postpone my graduation for a semester, but I don’t want to. My husband has been battling for his life and wants to rest. A new job at a new pay rate could make it easier for him to retire early. I need to finish on time to make that a reality. At least that is the story I tell the people. The truth is I am dying at work. I once really enjoyed my job and believed in what I was doing; and then the burnout set in, and the vicarious trauma, and the compassion fatigue. I need to take a break before I break. I was on top of my game at work until that fateful day in October when I noticed that every note I had written from July until that date had been voided. “Don't write any more notes until we get this glitch fixed.” was the command from on high. “It’s a trap!” a colleague joked when I told her what was going on. She was joking, but it felt strangely true. Suddenly, the one thing I knew I could do, write notes, was taken. All of my billable time was gone, and according to the direct service time records on the employee website, I hadn’t done my job. In the words of my supervisor when I was being trained, “If there isn’t a note, it didn’t happen.” I was swimming upstream. It was about that time that the back and forth with my former advisor really started in earnest. I would email him and he would reply that I didn’t need to worry. I would be fine. When I heard that he had left in December without completing anything he had promised, I panicked. The daily trips to the hospital for radiation started in November along with weekly rounds of chemo. When he first started treatment, I would boldly take my laptop to the hospital and try to get some work done while the IV dripped its miracle medicine into his veins. Over the course of his treatments, I stopped trying to accomplish much during his sessions. I was grateful that I could make Mondays one of my remote days, but I couldn’t really get things done. Once he got his feeding tube, I stopped trying to work at all. I feel blessed that FMLA is a thing. Our routine became very focused. Attempt to force formula down the tube, or worse, wait for the liquid to drip into his stomach. It can be interesting when he is gassy, every burp, belch, or hiccup causes little bubbles in the line. When he farts, the bubbles are bigger. There was an unfortunate incident when I was trying to clear an air bubble from one of the syringes and shot formula onto our ceiling. Another time, I pressed the syringe down so forcefully that I shot the pureed food we were trying about four feet out the side valve. It has been a learning experience. When you sprinkle in the deaths that seemed to be occuring every other week, I found myself in a bit of a funk. Work was a mess, school was a mess, Dan’s health was a mess, and now there was feeding tube formula all over my bedroom making it a bit of a mess. I like order, not mess. The peace I sought in 2022 was very elusive when we were swimming in uncertainty, but somehow I still felt it. I wish I could say the same for the trust I am claiming for this year. My trust that things will be better in 2023 is almost nonexistent right now, but I am still believing. Somewhere between the misunderstandings at work, the terror of not getting into my internship, the confusion over Dan’s health, and the strange moments of unexpected and uncontrollable crying there is a glimmer of hope that things will get better. That’s the trust. I have been in a free fall since the fall. There is a lot going on and I am in control of none of it. All I can do is trust. There isn’t a single part of my life that isn’t in flux; from my husband to my job to my ambition in school, it is all in the hands of other people. Honestly, It is killing me not to be in control. Trust. Trust that the prayers for Dan’s health are answered. Trust that the people who call the shots at the university answer my emails and I graduate on time, trust that the situation at work resolves itself. Trust. It looks like I didn’t choose my word for 2023, it is the only word that makes sense this year. If I truly trust God, I can thrive in this storm and ride the waves to victory; if I don’t, I might just drown.
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AuthorI am a Christian, a wife, a mom, and a part-time basket case who wants to be a full time writer.
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