work – Common Adventure

When I officially resigned from my last job, I had a big plan to write a long entry about why I would do such a thing. That was weeks ago, and I did start writing. That entry is currently 4 pages long, single spaced. It’s emotional – not just sadness; there is a respectable amount of anger and frustration – and possibly not appropriate for public sharing. It’s not finished cooking. It’s still too raw for human consumption. If it is ever actually finished, it probably won’t be shared. I didn’t write it to be ugly. I wrote it to process my feelings and to try to make sense of what happened. I’m not certain that it is ugly, but that is something I consider about anything I write to share.

I’ve been trying to write this story for weeks. When I’m not staring at the Word document, I’m thinking about it. What should I write? Can I even share this? What is even worth sharing? Did I really quit my job?

I still feel like I had to quit the job. Nobody asked me to, but I was having a difficult time. I was burned out and out-of-touch. I could not get the work completed. Even knowing I was burned out, I was still trying to give. I had progressed past “give until it hurts,” into “give until numbness sets in,” territory and beyond. [. . . . ] The week that I learned I needed to quit the job, I had two court hearings. A co-worker was sent to the first one (Monday) to observe me, because that co-worker needed some extra education regarding testifying. He was sent to court to observe me testifying that day. That indicates that, at some point, I was doing okay (at the very least). Two days later, I was trash.

I have told a condensed version of “what happened at work” to various people and nobody – not one person – has said, “You really fucked up and should not have done that.”

Recently, I had a “lightbulb moment” while obsessing about what to write.

I can tell you that someone questioned my concern for the safety of my community and that hurt me. That was a good reminder of why we, as human beings, should not kick other human beings when they are down. If I did not care about the safety of my community, I would never have taken that job seriously. I would never have burned out. Another term for “burn out” is “compassion fatigue.” I’ll repeat that for the people in the back: compassion fatigue. That someone would question my concern for the safety of the community was deeply insulting. I have worked not to ruminate on that question. I haven’t forgotten that it happened, and I doubt that I will. It helped me remember some important experiences:

During the past 3.5 years, I’ve had had three different people identify, to me, as survivors of childhood sexual abuse and thank me for the work I did.

After a particularly difficult hearing, during which I cried (sitting in the back row of the gallery after I had testified), a victim shook my hand and thanked me for being there. Her dad thanked me for the work I did that led to the hearing and said he appreciated it (even though we did not get the result they wanted).

After a hearing in October, a victim’s mother mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to me as we were all leaving the courtroom.

In 2017, a CSO from a different county ended up mixed up in some stuff with a person on my case load at that time. The mother of his granddaughter was also involved – the granddaughter was in an unsafe situation. That officer thanked me for the work I did with that case. That was especially meaningful because he is an officer who supervises sex offenders. He knows.

I’m no stranger to the phrase, “I don’t know how you do that, but I’m glad you do.”

****

Recently, during a yoga class, I was most dissatisfied to find that inside my head, I was inside the district courthouse, just about to relive the chastising that changed my life. I pulled my mind away from that, but I felt angry about it. So much of the self-care I’m doing now, including yoga class, is meant to put distance between myself and that day, if not that entire week. As a society, we often joke about Wednesday being “hump day,” and the rest of the week is downhill from that day. If that was not 100% accurate for me in that week, then it never is.

written 6.2.17

During the past 2 days at work, I attended a training about Motivational Interviewing (MI). I think it was an okay training. I don’t think I can use much of it in working with sex offenders. That’s an entry for another day. Today was the second day of the training, and I noticed something that I feel compelled to write about. I even made a note in my notepad during the training so I wouldn’t forget.

I would never label myself a “leader.” I would never ask to supervise a project or be someone’s boss. When I have been asked to take on a supervising role, I have said, “No, thank you.” I’m not an extrovert. I don’t want to be in charge. In every class I took with Dr. Sofranko during college, he said that because we (the students) were in college, it was almost inevitable that we would all end up managing/supervising others at some point in life. At that point in my life and for many years after, my Sass Level was well below zero (0). Still, every time Dr. Sofranko made that statement, I thought to myself, “I’ll show you!” Honestly, the first time I heard him say it, I’m sure my Internal Panic Alarm sounded. But, every time after that, my internal response was to accept the statement as some kind of challenge he was issuing. It’s not lost on me that my job title is Community Supervision Officer. I’m not supervising other employees. I’m supervising sex offenders who live in the community (insert helpless, maniacal laughter). This is the first time I am having this realization. Good lookin’ out, Dr. Sofranko. May you rest in peace, especially knowing that you were right about so many things.

For the MI training, we were situated in groups of 8. I have no issues with anyone in my group. I approach my job with the philosophy that the job of everyone in my department is difficult. End of story. As is usually the case, there was not an obvious leader in my group. When someone had to speak for the whole group, we all looked at each other hoping it would be someone else. That’s my default setting.

I know work trainings are often boring. Sometimes they are/seem pointless. I know that. I also know that sometimes trying to make the best out of a less-than-perfect situation keeps the situation from seeming so awful. Time passes easier, one’s mood doesn’t sour as much when one tries. I think? That’s been my experience. Easier said than done. I know that, too. Maybe attitude is everything?

Early in the day yesterday, I realized that I would not be able to use much of what we were being taught because of the nature of the population I supervise. That happens. A lot. My initial response to this realization in any situation is to feel frustrated. Damnit. I need help with my work. I need to learn new skills to help me work more effectively with sex offenders. But I’m the only person in my department who needs this. Eventually, I replace frustration with some other feeling: apathy, being reasonable, etc. I chose being reasonable yesterday. Okay, I have to sit through this training. I’ll make the best of it. I’ll listen, I’ll take notes, I’ll try to do the exercises correctly. I might even participate in discussions. If I pay attention, I may learn some things that I can use, here-and-there. Not everyone in my group took this route. Okay. We’re all different. No problem.

We were working on an exercise that required us each to write responses to, I think, 5 different statements, discuss each of our statements as a group and choose one that we believed was the best out of all 8 options. When it seemed like my group was kind of disorganized, I tried to become some kind of leader. I got the impression that nobody wanted to do the exercise, nobody wanted to share their answer and nobody wanted to choose the best one. Work trainings are often boring, and we always have work to do in our offices that is, honestly, more important. We didn’t have much choice and I didn’t think it sounded like much fun to have nothing to say when it was our turn to respond. No, we wouldn’t get into trouble, but it wouldn’t do our image any favors. Not to mention, there were supervisors in the training (supervisors, like bosses). And it’s just not in my nature to blow off tasks I’m asked/told to complete at work, no matter how meaningless the task may seem. We are professionals, and I think we should each present as such, especially when we are being given a presentation by another professional to whom we should show respect if only because he is a person who is trying to help us be better officers. I believed that part of being respectful was completing the exercise as instructed.

My stint as “some kind of leader” was pathetically brief. Working with the responses and body language of some of the people in my group when I tried to bring some order to the chaos, I decided to be quiet. That was the end. I didn’t try again. When we did other group exercises, I kept my input to a minimum. I definitely did not try to lead, nudge or direct. My motivation was primarily internal – the way I interpreted their responses and body language – the blank stares, the lack of responses, the mumbling. Did they think I was being too bossy? Did they think I was a bitch because I tried to “take over?” Did they think I was some nerdy loser who was paying attention and trying to learn? (FYI: “nerdy loser,” party of one right here because learning IS fun and knowledge IS power, motherfucker).

I can’t say the exercise was easy. I understand the fear of being wrong in answering a question in front of a group. It’s not fun, but it’s a good way to learn. Just as much as the next person, I hate finding out that old, cliché advice is accurate. Still, if my group gave an incorrect response, what would happen? The presenter would give us feedback about how to improve our response? We’d gain a better understanding of what we were doing? That doesn’t sound so bad.

My intention was to help my group. It didn’t work out. It prompted me to think about the discussions of referring to girls as “bossy” as if this is a negative trait. I have never been bossy. I have always been quiet. A few times, I have sat quietly while I knew the “boss” was getting something incorrect, and I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to seem like a know-it-all. I don’t want to seem like a bitch.

Throughout the training, we worked in pairs and used real life examples to practice the techniques we were learning. One of mine that came up more than once was my desire to be more assertive. I am so much better than I used to be. Just, so much. I can’t even tell you. BUT, there is much more room for improvement. I want to be more assertive. And, even though this desire was on my mind during the training, when I had an opportunity to work on strengthening my assertiveness, I didn’t take it. Given the circumstances, I may have been considering “choosing my battles” over exercising my Assertiveness Muscles.

Tag: work

Don’t chase rabbits.

Some kind of leader