existential security.
This post was written in two different periods of time. One, in my first week here. The second, as I'm about a month in. It's 4:43 AM and I'm sitting on a minor-aged psychiatric unit, fighting back tears. This is my 3rd night on the job, and 1st night by myself. I'm fighting back tears because a client that was having night terrors just told me pieces of their story. A story that is laced with abuse, neglect, abandonment, betrayal, and [all of this has led to], no longer having the will to live. There are about 1,000 reasons I applied for this job. I wanted to receive further [unconventional] training for youth ministry that a textbook couldn't teach me. I wanted to love those that have never been shown love, haven't had a steady home, etc. (This list goes on and on, and I would love to grab coffee and talk more about it.) Within the first couple of hours shadowing a couple of weeks ago, I realized that I was about to receive training like I could have nev