Monday, September 21, 2015

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

SM Johnson ~ Love Letters ~ Everything Changes

Love Letters: E is for Everything Changes

And here we are. A jolting, shocking, unforeseen, never could have been expected time of change.

What to do? Where to turn? A crossroads at which it is impossible to foresee which decision might the the correct decision. All choices are right. All choices are wrong. No choices are right. No choices are wrong.

My thoughts are live things chasing tails - there are so many possible directions I could go right now, that what I actually do is sit still and decide nothing.

Isn't that weird? I jumped into graduate school with both knees bent to spring, eyes wide open to the fact that an intense school program would make for a lean writing year, but everything in me was geared up for the challenge - and when the application process and the financial aid process all slipped through like the whole system was well-lubricated, I thought, well, damn, this was meant to be. I was offered a really great internship, but turned it down because I wanted an experience I thought would challenge me in a different way - or, rather, a different kind of growing way.

And then summer semester was really hard. I mean... really hard. I worked my ass off, and in the end wondered if I was actually going to pass my classes. (Yes, I passed, with a B+).

And then the bomb, the betrayal, the absolute stunner... of which I can share no details, but I can tell you this: You can use your skills and education and heart to genuinely and honestly help a hundred people or two hundred people or five hundred people to the best of your ability. You can bring warmth and compassion and build therapeutic rapport. You can be kind to people that few others are kind to. You can try your level best always to do no harm. And still, eventually, you will be fucked over.

If not by the people you serve, than by the people who oversee the people you serve. And it doesn't matter at all what you were trying to accomplish, it doesn't matter if no one got hurt, and it doesn't even matter if you actually helped a real person. Someone, ultimately, doesn't like what you do, or read, or write in your private life, and that cancels out every good fucking thing that you ever did.

Interesting, hmm?

I think it's very interesting.

I was in a panic for a while. I had reasons, after all, to pursue a master's degree in a field other than writing. I wanted to help people.

But I'm starting to think the human condition is beyond my help, and the liability is too big to go into debt over. Like maybe there's too much liability to even try (sigh).

I have two weeks to figure it out and get my money back, so I guess if I sit still today, the world won't end.

The plus side is... I can always write books. But the health insurance plan sucks.