No, I’m not a psychiatrist
Article by Maddy Meister Art by Liz White
The oddest job I work
Is one I cannot mention
But I will say this
It’s sweaty and silly
Involves some non-disclosure
And lots of guts and somewhat glory
I struggle more when it comes to working on myself: trying to understand my actions, reactions, and relationships. When I say working on myself, I tend to mean reflection, and trying to be “good.” But what does it even mean to be “good?” Is there such a state? I can get myself to work, go to class, do my homework (sometimes), and enjoy spending time with my friends. Shouldn’t that be enough? But fear of the future, fear of being alone, clouds my brain, and forces me to stay busy. I stay busy by working to keep my mind from wandering towards self-hatred.
My part-time job is relatively common
Consists of giving medicine
Emotional support
Tools to deal with anxiety
And dealing with others’ shit (literally)
No, I’m not a psychiatrist. I occasionally dogsit for some incredibly loving and somewhat high-maintenance dogs. The problem with this job is that I have a LOT of time to sit and do very little. I’ve never really enjoyed spending uninterrupted time with my thoughts. I end up turning on the TV, tuning out the many things that make me sad or mad or confused. Then I begin to worry that I am not okay, which only makes me more anxious.
My last and favorite job
Is greeting and seating people
Running around carrying armloads
Of full and empty dishes
Snaking around customers and coworkers
Sweeping
Wiping
Stealing
People’s leftovers from the dish pit
Laser focus
They say time is money, and my job as a hostess takes up my time and gives me a decent paycheck each week. It is input and output focused, and ultimately a distraction from figuring out a “greater” purpose, whatever that might look like. For the most part, I enjoy the job, it is pretty straightforward and I get to focus on the tasks at hand. Now I find myself getting sidetracked again… not getting into the nitty gritty of why I am not okay. I really haven’t come close to figuring out what being okay looks like. Is it even possible? I have days where I go through the motions and have a good time and do feel okay… and nights when I lose control and come close to hurting myself, hating myself. Why do I feel this way? I’ve been trying to figure it out in therapy for years. There is usually something going on in my life I can blame, some person who hurt me or some fear of the future manifesting itself as me not wanting to go on.
My eternal work
Not a job
Or something I need to do
More so a state of being
I’m always trying
Even when it seems out of the blue
I go to therapy and try to identify when I’m not feeling well and what’s happening at specific times when I am doing “well,” like when I can crack a joke and hug someone to make them feel better. This task involves grappling with the specifics of my self-destructive behavior, and the ways it affects me within and outside of intense episodes.
And no,
I’m still not a psychiatrist
But I’ve definitely been encouraged to see one.