Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sometimes my job is a true privilege. I'm allowed - invited, even - into people's lives at their very lowest moments, to see them at their very worst, most broken, most hopeless, and given the opportunity to listen, and sometimes I can help. Sometimes I leave a person feeling like I just gave them something they didn't have before, a new perspective or a validation, something to just get through the night.

That's an honor, and a thrill.

Othertimes, my job is a farce. I'll be facing legitimate, intense, worthy problems, and will be completely unable to do one measly little thing to help. There are no words to make it better. There are no hospital beds available anywhere within a 90-minute drive to keep the person safe. There is no magic pill or special secret to healing, or coping, or just living. And I leave feeling helpless and sad and, worse, useless.