Friday, October 14, 2016

Just another week
























21 patients... 1 crisis... calming staff... checking in... checking out...

"He had his knee on my throat trying to kill me... then he raped me."

"I don't know if I believe in God anymore. It all feels fake... like I was lied to."

"They just see me as V from the wrong side of the tracks... Old V with the drunk ass son..."

" I don't know who I am anymore. I lost "me" somewhere."



So much pain in such a broken world. I pass out tissues, I listen as they pour out their hearts, share their secrets and release their pain.

I see them at their worst and at their best. They are there in that small room with me because they want to change, because they haven't lost all hope, because they are fighting their demons to survive...

It's a sacred time, a sacred space. I sit and often I pray "God help me help them".

I want to save them all. I want to heal them. I want to love them all back to safety and sanity.  I want them to know that they matter, that their words are heard, that their lives have meaning.

Some days I leave exhausted. Some days I am on the verge of crying but suck it up because it's not about me, it's about them. Some days I arrive in the dark and leave in the dark. Some days I feel like I make a difference. Some days I feel like I have helped. Some days I leave feeling hopeful...


"I feel better. I am not crying everyday."

"I feel hopeful"

"I am 90 days sober."

"I haven't had a panic attack in 3 weeks." 

"I am happier than I have ever been..." 


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