I'm stubborn and determined, but I'm not devoid of reason. Who quits a job in this economy without having another lined up? While I am saying "yes" to spontaneity and letting go of many restrictions that have held me captive to a general state of preparedness and borderline-obsessive control on all possible life situations, I am also saying "yes" to good, old-fashioned common sense. For the past month, I have been quietly exploring options for my future, considering each thoroughly and purposefully.
I applied for several full-time positions across the region before realizing three weeks ago that my current emotional state would create for me the same problems in any direct care or counseling position as it had in the position I most recently held as a Mental Health Professional. Before I can continue to professionally manage others' mental health, I must learn to personally manage my own. I recall a counseling session in June during which I told a young, single mother with low self-esteem and a paralyzing fear of judgment from others that she could reduce her depression, anxiety, and feelings of hopelessness by finding joy in at least one moment every day. "Each day is a gift that holds the potential for something wonderful to happen," I wrote for her on a list of affirmations for her to read in times of self-doubt. "Do what makes you feel good about yourself, and let your heart be open to joy and your spirit grateful for small things."
A week later, in my own valley of despair just days before describing for a jury the trauma I had experienced the night of The Fire, I remembered the woman's poignant response.
"Is that what you do when you're struggling?"
I had lied at the time for the sake of professionalism and not looking like a flake. "I try to do or recognize something every single day that makes me feel good about me and the world I live in," I had told her. I wanted to turn that lie into a truth, in the name of integrity and because, in all honesty, it was phenomenal advice. I began to ask myself what might make me happy every day. What did I want to do with the next year? Month? Week?
I regretted quitting school after The Fire, and decided that it was time to go back and focus on learning more about my field. A university I had considered for Law School last year has an online Master of Arts in Human Services program, and I applied. Last week they sent me a bumper sticker and an acceptance letter. I registered for four classes this semester - one in human service theory and three in counseling for marriages and families.
The answer to my self-directed question about the direction of my life for the next week or month or year became clear to me as I reminisced about times in my life when I felt most at peace and aligned with my world. Nearly every moment in my life that has felt "right" has involved children. I loved playing mini-mom to my younger siblings, and have fond memories of teaching them card games, spending long winter afternoons playing in the snow, and supervising crafting activities that left us all covered in glue and marker with nothing to show for it but a piece of construction paper covered in feathers that we will just call "abstract art." I spent a great amount of time as an adolescent telling my siblings and cousins what to do and how to do it correctly, which I am sure they will all vouch for in as loving a manner as they can when recalling my general bossiness as a teenager. In any case, I loved them and I loved being a part of their "growing up" experience.
I spent much of my time between the ages of 19 and 22 with several families for whom I provided childcare on a regular basis. One family offered me a regular job, and the happiness and love I experienced while walking with that family for several years has ensured that they will forever remain in my heart, rooted there in admiration, respect, and joy. I learned with that family that my energy is one that children relate to, and their energy the type that serves as a catalyst for my creativity, nurturing instinct, and playful spirit. My time as Nanny was shorter-lived than it seemed it should have been, and played a large part in healing me of the depression I experienced as a young adult thrown into the reality of an earth that is ripe with suffering and raw with hopelessness.
I worked as a youth counselor when fresh out of college, teaching children with developmental trauma and behavioral disorders how to cope with their often misdirected feelings and connect and attach to the people who loved them in healthy and non-destructive ways. I traded in this position for a higher-paying job in relief work, and eventually moved on to my most recent stint as a Mental Health Professional. One of the paths I looked into upon realizing my time in this position was coming to an end was professional child care.
Fewer than 72 hours after renewing my profile on a website that connects child care workers with families in need of assistance, I received several requests for interviews to be a Nanny. I met the first family on a sunny afternoon two weeks ago. Upon entering the home of "the O's", a spunky four-year-old with blonde ringlets and hands covered in potting soil accosted me, inquiring, "Are you a nanny? Why are you wearing so much black? You smell like a bathtub."
I knew immediately that we would be friends.
Mrs. O introduced herself, her husband, and her two children. She showed me around the house, including the basement suite reserved for a live-in nanny, to be hired as a year-long helper while Mrs. O finishes nursing school and Mr. O is at work. Mrs. O explained that for the time being, most of the help would be needed with the curly-headed monkey child who was, at the time, jumping from couch to recliner and back. The 8-year old boy would be in school. She also explained that the position would change slightly in February, at which time the family is expecting their third child. As I spoke with Mrs. O about my qualifications, the position, and the children playing across the room, a warm feeling spread through my limbs and into my chest. Home.
"You were our first choice, with your qualifications and experience. We interviewed several other girls, but I am so impressed with your resume and you seem to have a connection with the kids. I think you would fit in well here. If you would like the job, it's yours," Mrs. O told me.
"I would love the job," I said.
I was immediately hired as a live-in nanny for the O family from September 2012 to May 2013. I will be subletting my apartment and moving to their basement suite in mid-August and will be working part-time for them while I work toward my Master of Arts in Human Services with an emphasis on Marriage and Family Counseling.
On the day I signed the contract, a monkey climbed into my lap and handed me a scribbled-on piece of notebook paper. She beamed at me and announced, "This says 'thank you for being my nanny.'"
I'm so glad I said yes.
I applied for several full-time positions across the region before realizing three weeks ago that my current emotional state would create for me the same problems in any direct care or counseling position as it had in the position I most recently held as a Mental Health Professional. Before I can continue to professionally manage others' mental health, I must learn to personally manage my own. I recall a counseling session in June during which I told a young, single mother with low self-esteem and a paralyzing fear of judgment from others that she could reduce her depression, anxiety, and feelings of hopelessness by finding joy in at least one moment every day. "Each day is a gift that holds the potential for something wonderful to happen," I wrote for her on a list of affirmations for her to read in times of self-doubt. "Do what makes you feel good about yourself, and let your heart be open to joy and your spirit grateful for small things."
A week later, in my own valley of despair just days before describing for a jury the trauma I had experienced the night of The Fire, I remembered the woman's poignant response.
"Is that what you do when you're struggling?"
I had lied at the time for the sake of professionalism and not looking like a flake. "I try to do or recognize something every single day that makes me feel good about me and the world I live in," I had told her. I wanted to turn that lie into a truth, in the name of integrity and because, in all honesty, it was phenomenal advice. I began to ask myself what might make me happy every day. What did I want to do with the next year? Month? Week?
I regretted quitting school after The Fire, and decided that it was time to go back and focus on learning more about my field. A university I had considered for Law School last year has an online Master of Arts in Human Services program, and I applied. Last week they sent me a bumper sticker and an acceptance letter. I registered for four classes this semester - one in human service theory and three in counseling for marriages and families.
The answer to my self-directed question about the direction of my life for the next week or month or year became clear to me as I reminisced about times in my life when I felt most at peace and aligned with my world. Nearly every moment in my life that has felt "right" has involved children. I loved playing mini-mom to my younger siblings, and have fond memories of teaching them card games, spending long winter afternoons playing in the snow, and supervising crafting activities that left us all covered in glue and marker with nothing to show for it but a piece of construction paper covered in feathers that we will just call "abstract art." I spent a great amount of time as an adolescent telling my siblings and cousins what to do and how to do it correctly, which I am sure they will all vouch for in as loving a manner as they can when recalling my general bossiness as a teenager. In any case, I loved them and I loved being a part of their "growing up" experience.
I spent much of my time between the ages of 19 and 22 with several families for whom I provided childcare on a regular basis. One family offered me a regular job, and the happiness and love I experienced while walking with that family for several years has ensured that they will forever remain in my heart, rooted there in admiration, respect, and joy. I learned with that family that my energy is one that children relate to, and their energy the type that serves as a catalyst for my creativity, nurturing instinct, and playful spirit. My time as Nanny was shorter-lived than it seemed it should have been, and played a large part in healing me of the depression I experienced as a young adult thrown into the reality of an earth that is ripe with suffering and raw with hopelessness.
I worked as a youth counselor when fresh out of college, teaching children with developmental trauma and behavioral disorders how to cope with their often misdirected feelings and connect and attach to the people who loved them in healthy and non-destructive ways. I traded in this position for a higher-paying job in relief work, and eventually moved on to my most recent stint as a Mental Health Professional. One of the paths I looked into upon realizing my time in this position was coming to an end was professional child care.
Fewer than 72 hours after renewing my profile on a website that connects child care workers with families in need of assistance, I received several requests for interviews to be a Nanny. I met the first family on a sunny afternoon two weeks ago. Upon entering the home of "the O's", a spunky four-year-old with blonde ringlets and hands covered in potting soil accosted me, inquiring, "Are you a nanny? Why are you wearing so much black? You smell like a bathtub."
I knew immediately that we would be friends.
Mrs. O introduced herself, her husband, and her two children. She showed me around the house, including the basement suite reserved for a live-in nanny, to be hired as a year-long helper while Mrs. O finishes nursing school and Mr. O is at work. Mrs. O explained that for the time being, most of the help would be needed with the curly-headed monkey child who was, at the time, jumping from couch to recliner and back. The 8-year old boy would be in school. She also explained that the position would change slightly in February, at which time the family is expecting their third child. As I spoke with Mrs. O about my qualifications, the position, and the children playing across the room, a warm feeling spread through my limbs and into my chest. Home.
"You were our first choice, with your qualifications and experience. We interviewed several other girls, but I am so impressed with your resume and you seem to have a connection with the kids. I think you would fit in well here. If you would like the job, it's yours," Mrs. O told me.
"I would love the job," I said.
I was immediately hired as a live-in nanny for the O family from September 2012 to May 2013. I will be subletting my apartment and moving to their basement suite in mid-August and will be working part-time for them while I work toward my Master of Arts in Human Services with an emphasis on Marriage and Family Counseling.
On the day I signed the contract, a monkey climbed into my lap and handed me a scribbled-on piece of notebook paper. She beamed at me and announced, "This says 'thank you for being my nanny.'"
I'm so glad I said yes.
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