A Clinician’s Perspective
The sound of the phone ringing is a terrifying noise these days for mental health providers. The thought of who it may be or what situation may require our presence race through our minds. Could this emergency be worse than the one that we just managed? The phone ringing also means that we will likely be taken away from one of our several current situations, and adding another that also require our attention. And further behind we fall. The phone ringing also means we will potentially disappoint, upset, anger, or not live up to the expectations of that person who is seeking our mental health services. It really is a lot of pressure.
Being a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) has awarded me many opportunities to feel impactful and has taught me to remain humble, encouraged me to provide empathy, and reminded me that each person is at a different place in their life journey. It has forced me to put my biases aside, no matter the situation, so I can be a true advocate for all people. It has given me the opportunity to meet many incredible people who have the most remarkable stories. And above all, it allows me to serve those in the community I call home.
But, it has also revealed the darkness in the world. It has taken me to the depths of pure evil. It has nearly broken me mentally on multiple occasions. But each time I get to that point, I have that moment which gently reminds me why I do this. It’s not always obvious, and lately, it’s feels those moments are not as frequent. But they still reveal themselves, and through the darkness, I still find the light.
The reason for this post today is because I was recently at that point of feeling nearly defeated. I feel like a lot of my colleagues have been as well. In the introduction paragraph, those phone calls may be a triage staff asking for a patient to be deescalated in the waiting room. We have no idea who they are, why they are here, or how we can help, but we go listen. The calls can also be people who are on the verge of suicide and felt like they had to make one more call to see if someone would listen. Those calls can be quite challenging on a multitude of levels and the pressure of saying the right thing or if police need to get involved is quite intense. Those calls are also from families that are upset about a recommendation that was provided to their loved ones. Not everyone understands the amount of time and consideration that goes into a disposition for a mental health evaluation and that is ok. But I assure you, those decisions are not made lightly as we know the risks involved. Those calls are from CPS or APS following up on a case from several weeks ago about a patient who is being abused, trafficked, or neglected. Those calls are from psychiatric facilities denying a patient who is in desperate need of treatment and now we are stuck notifying the patient and family and explaining why we are not making this process “go quicker”. Those calls are from prospective outpatient clients who are seeking therapy only for us to explain that we have no space for a new client.
Those calls also never stop. And neither do the needs of the people we serve. I wrote about compassion fatigue in a previous post, because it is real. Clinicians are people too who have their own sets of problems outside of work. And lately, clinicians are people who are working multiple jobs to support their families. Taking care of our mental health is not the first thing on the priority list.
However, I still pick up the phone. I still show up knowing that it probably is going to be a difficult day. It’s because I care. My wife, who is a psychologist cares. And my colleagues care. And even though many situations will push us to the brink of being broken, we get back up. We are important and our roles provide significant meaning to so many people. I think at times, the value of our profession may feel diminished. We are not the doctor’s giving the final recommendation. We do not have the ability to prescribe medications. Our services usually require people to put in a lot of work over a long period of time and this can be discouraging for people looking for a “quick fix”. We are also not the people who will frequently see the fruits of the hard work patient’s put into therapy, rehab, and hospital encounters.
However, we are the bridge that people cross as they progress through their life journey. Or the empty toolbox a client has to help store and organize their essential life tools. And that is valuable. I wanted this post to convey the true value of our profession. This role is not made for everyone. It requires a special person to continue to pick up that phone and continue to serve the people in the community after the things we have seen. I want this post to be your reminder that you are valued. Your role may not seem significant every day, but I guarantee your intervention has saved a life. And if you continue to provide empathy, compassion, and dignity, you will continue to play a vital role. This perspective was the reminder I needed to not allow the negativity to break me. And I assure you, it did not. I have stood back up, and I am ready to take on tomorrow.
