Road trips are a rare gift that I give to myself, it’s been a fortunate year for them. I’ve driven to Monroe, Utah, to the border of Utah and Arizona, to Saint George, and to Reno, and as far as California. The current trip I’m enjoying is one to Missoula, Montana, for a family wedding, and to visit family in general. It’s a beautiful drive and I’m glad I had the PTO to take a few days off.

Of course, I live in the grey between work and life, so although I’ve been fairly good about avoiding work emails and texts, I did log into Teams for the interview of a potential new therapist. I choose to give myself grace in drawing this blurry line between priorities, it feels more sustainable than a sharp division of the two. Working as the clinical director of a residential rehab, to be honest, is more a lifestyle than a job. It’s tricky to navigate, to balance, to make decisions about who I want to be and what I choose to encourage and nourish in my life. Am I devoted to my position and these people I serve? Absolutely. Has this devotion led to burnouts and meltdown in the past? For sure. However, my life is infinitely enriched by the work that I’ve chosen, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a career that suited me any better than the one I have. It’s certainly not the easiest path, but it just might be the very best.

There’s definitely drawbacks to having such an engaged and influential role in an inpatient facility, and believe me, they weigh on my heart at times. I’ve been able to negotiate the free time that I need to keep myself in line with consistent travel and plans, but it hasn’t been easy. There are times, as well, when it seems like the most ‘interesting’ days happen when it’s my turn to take point and be the boss after business hours. I have the joy/pressure of being trained and experienced in addressing trauma responses, psychosis, and the occasional (but not unheard of) suicidal thoughts, actions, and/or intent. So I am well-qualified to handle most anything the facility and clients experience and for which they need help. I appreciate and value that I have the skills and compassion to handle the potentially worst day of someone’s life, really I do, but it takes energy. Energy that is not always easy to find within myself. So there’s that.

There’s also the very nature of rehab and walking alongside clients on the road to recovery. I am witness to the memories and repercussions of so much trauma and grief. There is a fine line between being too callous and being too compassionate, and the addiction therapist must walk that tightrope or face the consequences of leaning too far either way. There are also so many, many people who relapse, and fewer (but not an insignificant number) of clients who die. It’s a difficult role to take, as a provider of care, and I’ve seen peers give up the career simply because they cannot handle the accompanying grief.

There’s also the choices you make in your conduct in daily life. Ethics are of upmost importance, and since my city is small, I will almost certainly see clients out in the community. Best practice is to acknowledge a past client only when they approach you first, and never to divulge where you know them from. The safest and most ethical thing to do is say a polite hello in response, and be courteous, and promptly go on your way. That means no friendships, no social media contact, and certainly nothing further than that. Social workers have a strict code of ethics, and strict adherence is the best way to avoid entanglements and crossing lines. Believe me, it’s astounding how many social workers cross lines. It’s just not ok.

Of course, I have the flavor of neuroses wherein the negatives of a situation often overshadow the positive (and wonderful) aspects of the career. I get to meet and help some of the most interesting, intelligent, creative, and passionate people you could ever imagine. I get to use my knowledge and skills to literally change and improve countless lives. I get to see families reunite, and those who have wandered finding their way home. I have the privilege of working with people, both coworkers and clients, whom I respect immensely. The staff is comprised of my very closest and dearest friends. I get to supervise people who actually listen to my words and respect my actions, and appreciate the little bits of wisdom I have gleaned and can share. I am rewarded on even the darkest day with a glimmer of hope. The hope can be blindingly bright, and I am a fortunate soul to be its witness and companion.

Sitting here with my coffee, alternating between intense paragraphs and breathing in the sweet summer evening, I feel fortunate to have the luxury to explore, in words, the feelings I can share about my wild and wonderful career. All things considered, I’m one of the lucky ones. Refilling my cup with this travel and visiting family was a solid choice. I cannot say that every day is fun or easy, but every day counts. It matters to someone, somewhere, that I was there for them on a particularly hard day. That is priceless.