Internship, commence

So, we'll see how far I get in actually writing in a blog on a regular basis. I am notorious for starting journals and other such places to keep thoughts and only writing in them three times. However, today I started my internship as a counselor. And I'm terrified. Often times the best therapy for the therapist is to process the day and then let it go; so, without divulging any information about where I work or those with whom I work, I will discuss me in my day today- besides, that's what really counts here anyway.

I am astounded by how much I have changed in just the past six months, and I know that six months ago, I would not be able to deal with this madness I have gotten myself into. My job is proving to be shockingly flexible, something I never would have expected from a psychiatric hospital. While I tend to enjoy these sorts of jobs, I'm concerned with the lack of guidance because I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing good to learn how to get from one section of the hospital to another, but I have so many other serious concerns. I'm worried that I won't meet the criteria I need to for my program, and I'm concerned about how different I think my internship will be from a lot of other people in my program. I still don't understand 75% of the paperwork they showed me today, and I'm made speechless by the assertiveness, optimism, and sheer, well, balls of the intern with whom I'm paired. And I still don't know what the hell an ADL is. I do know, however, that they brew free coffee and provide Coffee Mate creamer in the cafeteria 24/7; attempting to do group work with someone who is actively hearing voices is about as useful as discussing feelings with a 5-year-old; and that somehow the staff manages to laugh and breathe despite the 214 people in inpatient care today alone. I also know that the one woman with whom I had close to one-on-one interaction today reminds me so much of myself; she shouldn't, as she is a patient and I'm a counselor, along with 15 other things that separate us. But I know what's it's like to swim in that sea, and I know how scary it is. I also know that sometimes it's all you can do to hang onto the life vest, and her strength in clinging to that vest is commendable. While I don't know how to do the 15,000 little things I'm expected to do, and I don't know exactly how I'm going to finagle this to work in my program and my life, I do know why I'm there. And today, that's enough.