(no subject)
I've gotten to that point where things are catching up with me. I am, quite simply, nowhere near where I hoped to be at this point in my life. There are a few things that are further ahead than I expected, and there are some places where I am sadly behind.
In my job, I am sadly behind the part that I would like to be at. There are some people who give me a great deal of credit for what I do for a living. They tell me that they could never do what I do, and they talk about how patient and strong I must be to do it. I appreciate what they say and it makes me feel good about myself. But I know in my heart that I cannot do what I do. My Dad refers to what I do for a living as if I was a cashier at Shopko. Despite my protestations that my job is valuable, I don't disagree with him too much. My job is circular accomplishments. I fullfill ends that simply lead to the next need that is the same as the first.
I care about the guys I take care of, but it gets to me. I know that no matter what I do, no matter how well I treat them, it will change nothing in the end. They will never get better, or even if they do, it's just a different shade of grey. When a significant victory is if Charlie pushed the buttons on the microwave when prompted, then what am I really serving?
The real problem with my job is that the only place that I am tested is in the realm of patience. I do not really have to think much about what I'm doing, my actions are based on a set schedule of actions. When resident X does action Y, then respond with Z, that is what I do. There is no one to actually converse with, no problems that I have the legal authority to solve. Problems are what managers and the doctors work on, I do what they say. Even if what they say means that I literally get beaten with a blunt metal object because I'm not allowed to take it away from a man with bursts of psychotic violence.
This is not to say that my life is bad, I have many wonderful things. I have good friends. I mean do do more, but it doesn't always work that way. I have been mean sometimes, I didn't even notice it until Christa told me.
Christa has been wonderful to me. I doubt that I can even fully express it in words if I sat here for a year. She makes a point to take interest in the things I care about and she is patient with me when I get emotionally volitile myself. I love her, it could not be more simple than that or more difficult to explain.
It is strange that something that is so simple and true to the heart be so much of an enigma. I understand what is going on with me, I feel it, but it cannot be expressed. But it does not seem to need explaination with me, because the only person I need explain it too understands. I am lucky, and now I seek to go the rest of the way. Luck be damned, I'm going to go and achieve.
In my job, I am sadly behind the part that I would like to be at. There are some people who give me a great deal of credit for what I do for a living. They tell me that they could never do what I do, and they talk about how patient and strong I must be to do it. I appreciate what they say and it makes me feel good about myself. But I know in my heart that I cannot do what I do. My Dad refers to what I do for a living as if I was a cashier at Shopko. Despite my protestations that my job is valuable, I don't disagree with him too much. My job is circular accomplishments. I fullfill ends that simply lead to the next need that is the same as the first.
I care about the guys I take care of, but it gets to me. I know that no matter what I do, no matter how well I treat them, it will change nothing in the end. They will never get better, or even if they do, it's just a different shade of grey. When a significant victory is if Charlie pushed the buttons on the microwave when prompted, then what am I really serving?
The real problem with my job is that the only place that I am tested is in the realm of patience. I do not really have to think much about what I'm doing, my actions are based on a set schedule of actions. When resident X does action Y, then respond with Z, that is what I do. There is no one to actually converse with, no problems that I have the legal authority to solve. Problems are what managers and the doctors work on, I do what they say. Even if what they say means that I literally get beaten with a blunt metal object because I'm not allowed to take it away from a man with bursts of psychotic violence.
This is not to say that my life is bad, I have many wonderful things. I have good friends. I mean do do more, but it doesn't always work that way. I have been mean sometimes, I didn't even notice it until Christa told me.
Christa has been wonderful to me. I doubt that I can even fully express it in words if I sat here for a year. She makes a point to take interest in the things I care about and she is patient with me when I get emotionally volitile myself. I love her, it could not be more simple than that or more difficult to explain.
It is strange that something that is so simple and true to the heart be so much of an enigma. I understand what is going on with me, I feel it, but it cannot be expressed. But it does not seem to need explaination with me, because the only person I need explain it too understands. I am lucky, and now I seek to go the rest of the way. Luck be damned, I'm going to go and achieve.