And Then I Thought...

It was another crazy day. Probably the worst I've seen so far. Twenty-two people. Twenty-two!! All in a facility that most comfortably holds no more than fifteen. Not only were there twenty-two people, but there were no other staff members who knew what was going on. That's not to say the clinical staff were inept. They just don't know the inner workings of the Art Awakenings studio. I became the glue that held everything together. I know things like where to get the coffee cups and where the hand soap is kept and where the Costco deliveries go and where the supplies came from. I know how to make the coffee and how things are organized. I know what snacks to get from the kitchen and where to get spoons and forks. I know what to do with donations, both usable and disgusting. I know what we have and don't have. Usually some questions are directed toward the clinical staff, but our regular clinical staff wasn't in. It was all on me. That's not the worst thing ever, it's just tiring. One thing after another and I didn't even get a chance to sit down all day. Plus I had nowhere to hide out to get away from the chaos. I was stuck in the middle of it for six hours.

At the end of the day, once everyone had gone home, the other studio staff and I debriefed. We talked about the madness. We talked about the people. We talked about our feelings toward the work, the work environment, the demands, the responsibility. It was good to have a nice hour-long talk with someone who completely understood how I felt. He was up and running the entire six hours, as well. He knew.

I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, and in every other way you can be exhausted. Part of me just wanted to run crying to my therapist, emailing her because she wasn't in the office. But I've given myself the strict rule that if she doesn't explicitly say "Email me if you need to" before we part ways, I will not email her. Maybe if there's some sort of extreme crisis. This wasn't an extreme crisis. It was save me crisis. I still want to email her. I want her to know how stressful the entire situation was on me and how exhausted and fragile I am now.

And then I thought...if I want to be a BHPP (Behavioral Health Paraprofessional), I'll need to learn how to deal with chaotic days like that. So far, I'm dealing. All by myself.