Frustration

It is extremely frustrating (and disheartening) when a client goes through the shelter, and half of my program, and gets found by her abuser and subjected to approximately 16 hours of verbal and physical abuse. Yeah, that happened today.

I just don't know what else to say other than that my job isn't glamorous and that people are crazy.

Two Imitrex and rape

Today was a two Imitrex day. That in itself means it'll be a bad day. Woke up with a migraine, took an Imitrex and downed a Coke Zero, hoping that it'd sort itself out before I went to work. It dissipated some, and I rode my bike to work.

When I got there, however, I remembered that I had to talk about rape. Again. This time it was different though. Less crying, more discussion. It was better, but still not good. It'll never be good.

The woman from this post, the one that used drugs as a coping method had a hard time. Which is understandable, but still hard. Being in my groups has brought up all the things she worked so hard to push down. They are all coming at once and she doesn't know how to sort them. There's guilt, anger, disbelief, confusion, and a feeling of loss. All at once, all the time. I suggested she journal, write down what she's feeling, and that maybe that way she'll be able to sort through the feelings. I gave her a notebook, and told her to write whatever comes out. I told her she could draw pictures or make collages, anything, but to get it out. I told her she could keep it private, she could ask me to read it, whatever she wanted to do. But just to get it out. Try it for a week I said. She agreed. I hope it helps.

After group my headache was back in full force. My last Imitrex found its way into my system. Sometime after lunch it was finally gone. Which was good, because I still had the night group to contend with.

The night group was better. A different topic, a different dynamic. They're getting used to me, laughing at my jokes. We're progressing on the journey of trusting each other. Their topic was recovery. I always start that one at the beginning: What are we recovering from? There's always silence. For some reason, maybe shame, maybe fear, they don't say it. They don't say “abuse”. I have to answer the question for them.

We talked about them making a safe place in their homes, or anywhere really. A place where they feel comfortable, serene, calm. They look at me like I’m crazy, not understanding what I’m trying to get at. My example is when kids make blanket forts. Kids feel safe under the covers; nothing can get you you're under your comforter. That usually hits home. Some of them already have one, a chair on the porch, a tree in the park. I explain to them that it doesn't necessarily have to be a place, that it can be a thing, a memory, a picture, a scent. I tell them mine. Mine is my dog, she makes me feel safe and loved (my other is the smell of my girlfriend's laundry detergent, but I don't tell them that one, that one's just for me).

We build on that place. That's the place where they remember the things that they liked to do. Where they remember who they were before they were in an abusive relationship. It is the place where they find new things that they like to do, things that they want to try. It is the place where they grow. We talk about making time for themselves. Even 5 minutes a day, as long as they don't forget themselves. I suggest they start small; try a new restaurant, a new grocery store, volunteer somewhere, something that's new.

Recovery isn't easy, but we have to start somewhere, and baby steps is the easiest way to start.

I miss my group

My intake from yesterday didn't show up today. I'm not sure what happened, but I hope she calls me back so we can finish. And I hope that she's ok.

I may have mentioned before that Wednesday group used to be my group. I wish it still was my group. I inherited it from a previous coworker that was awesome, and as such his group was pretty awesome too. They soon became my group and we got on fabulously. Because of new employees and the training schedule I've had to give up my Wednesday group to someone else, for the time being. Its hard to do. It really is like giving up a prized possession; like your favorite comic book, or the quilt your grandmother made, or the shell you picked up on the beach with your significant other during a perfect beach day. It hurts.

It hurts more when they tell you they miss you, and are angry about the change. And isn't there anything I can do? Which quickly turns into, “What other days do you teach, can I come to one of those groups?” It would be easier if the person that has taken my group was well qualified to do so. But she's new, lacks training and unfortunately empathy and understanding. And there really isn't much I can do about that, as much as I want to.

All I can do is tell them to be honest on facilitator evaluations, and to bring any concerns they have to my supervisor.

My patience also lacks when the new facilitator of my group tells me that my clients are giving her “attitude” and being “disrespectful”, when the reality is that they are scared, confused, and upset over the sudden change. The fact that this facilitator doesn't understand this worries me. And I hope that someone else catches on to it as well, before something goes wrong.

I miss Wednesday group, but I hope they know that I'll always be there for them if they need me.

This one took a long time to process

On Thurdays I don't go in until 10:00am. This is due to the fact that the new people in my office need to take training and so the people that don't need training get to pick up their slack. But alas, I'm off topic.

Thursday morning I get in, put my stuff on my desk, turn on my computer, and the phone rings. Since we are down a receptionist I answer it. Its my client, and she sounds, for lack of better words, out of it.

She tells me that she just got out of the hospital and won't be in group because her face is all swollen. I pause for a second and tell her that its Thursday, not Wednesday, and that she doesn't have group today. She is unfazed by this fact, but just reiterates that she cannot come to group.

I asked her what happened. She said her husband came home and was hallucinating that the police were in the bedroom, and that she was going to tell them what he was doing. He beat her, he locked her in the closet, he sexually assaulted her, he bit her, he hit and kicked her, he choked her. This went on from one afternoon until the next morning. 

In the morning he left her in the room, he woke up the kids, made them breakfast and took them to school. She called the police. He ran when the police showed up. She doesn't know where he is. She spent the night in the hospital, she had social services visit her house, she is bruised and beaten physically and emotionally. She has to deal with the aftermath.

And he, if he gets caught, he will get a slap on the wrist. Fuck everything about that.

Cocaine is a coping method

Today a client went into crisis. I'm not sure what sent her into it, but the end result was crying, apologizing, and generally a bad time.

She confided that after she left her abuser she became reliant on cocaine because it was numbing. It numbed the pain, the shock, the disbelief, the guilt, the sadness. It was her coping mechanism. She didn't want to feel, and she knew this drug would keep her from feeling.

Her abuser, whom she was/is still married too was a monster. Physically abusive, verbally abusive, sexually abusive. This is a man that blew up her car so she was unable to leave him. I think I might have done coke too.

This client was surprised when I told her that I understood why she did what she did. She was astounded when I didn't judge her. Who am I to judge? Who is anyone to judge? She did what was necessary for her to survive, there's no way I can disapprove of that. She realized, eventually, that it was a short term solution, and a bad one at that, and stopped using.

However, she desperately needs a therapist. I am not a therapist, although I do my best to listen. Our therapist is full. Where am I supposed to send a woman with Medicaid that needs therapy? And not just any therapy, therapy for domestic violence. The answer is almost nowhere. I'm trying to find her a place, but I don't know if I'll succeed.

That scares me the most.