Ms. Star

I don't know how to start this blog without just telling you a bit about my day. I started working at 12:30 today. I had first aid/CPR training until nearly 4. Then I went to the dorm to start my shift with the girls. I knew from the minute I walked in that it would be an interesting night, but it wasn't until hours later that I realized just how interesting it would be. When I saw non-Pelletier staff in my dorm, I knew that there was a crisis going on. That issue was resolved easily, and the rest of the day seemed to be on a positive track. With one time-out situation turning into another, I found myself four hours later in a time out room trying to convince a teenage girl how not to behave. I tried to tell her how yelling and swearing at a peer will only make that peer say more rude comments about her. I eventually had a minor breakthrough when I explained how in college I knew that my friends enjoyed getting mail in their mailboxes, so I sent them mail. No one had ever explained to her how this is similar with negative situations. She doesn't like being made fun of and her peer knows that. Thus, that peer continues to do the things that upset her. Hopefully she will try to walk away from future situations instead of displaying threatening behavior. Anyway, this isn't where this blog's attention needs to be spent.
After catching my breath from the above situation, a phone call sent me on my way to the hospital. I had been chosen to follow a client who was riding in an ambulance to the "hospital," basically "hospital" is meaning a mental hospital. Today in school, this client lost control and attacked a staff member. During her last court appearance, she was told that if she had one more account of assualt, she would be sent away. Today something happened. Our idea is that she had been doing really well, she had gotten off grounding, she had gone on outings, and she thought "this isn't like me, I have to do something bad." And so she did...
I was a little nervous on my way to meet her. I didn't know what to expect. I hadn't seen her all day, and I didn't know how she was taking the idea of being sent off. ("Sent off" is such a horrible term, and I feel bad to use it, but sometimes Maryhurst jargon carries into everything. ) My nerves were easily calmed when I walked into her room. She greeted me with a smile, and I gave her a hug. She seemed relieved to see me. She was a bit shakey with anxiety, and her eyes showed the tiresome day she had experienced. I made small talk with her until the therapist came in half an hour later. A little exhausted myself, I sat with stunned yet concerned and interested as she answered the therapist's questions about her past. From the sexual abuse, to learning how to get high off hairspray as a toddler, to taking her mothers sleeping pills in suicidal attempt, I had heard more than enough. I heard a 14-year-old say "I'm an alcoholic" today. That's big. Before Maryhurst, I would have never thought I'd experience that. Wrapped up in a horse printed blanket, I heard a 7th grader tell of her dreams of going to college and working with horses someday. Then she said, "But I probably can't do that because of my addictions. I can never stop doing drugs and alcohol." To hear a girl dismiss her own dreams after smiling. I can't give this situation complete justice. It is impossible to share the feelings I felt during the little interview. I wanted to hold her hand and be the mother she hasn't seen in 3 years. When I was given permission to leave, I asked her if she wanted me to stay longer. When she said yes, I easily agreed. When I said "Bye L----, I'll be praying for you," I meant it more than I ever have before. I wanted to walk her to her room and sit with her. I wanted to tell her I'd call and check on her tomorrow. I wanted to hear her laugh one more time. And then, I walked out the door, back into a world of not seeing her everyday. I walked back into that evil world that let her become the way she is. But I didn't walk back into the world of Jenny not knowing her story. I must have cried for 15 minutes on my way back to campus. All I could think about was how I may never see her again and how I may never know if she got better. I'm worried for her. I know she is in safe hands, but I don't know whose hands she'll be in when she leaves. I don't know if she'll finally succeed in her suicide attempts or if all her dreams with horses will come true. I consider myself a better person after my experience tonight. The experience completely put things into perspective for me. I am ashamed that I spent last night crying because prince charming hasn't swept me off my feet yet. Life is so much more than that. And I needed a reminder. Along with that realization, I take some great memories from that girl I said good-bye to tonight. I will always remember how the first day she met me and had trouble pronouncing my name she said, "I'll just call you Ms. Star cause you look like a star anyway." I won't forget the last night we laughed together. Last night when she was doing her laundry, I managed to convince us both through repetitive attempts that the top dryer was broken. We switched all the clothes around and then realized that I was pushing the wrong start button. I won't remember how scared I was when I heard "horror" stories about her, and I won't think about the times she called me a "fucking bitch." I'll remember all the times she made me smile and how many times I saw her make smart decisions. I can't handle the tears anymore. But I will conclude with: It was in the moments I spent saying goodbye today that I got a glimpse of why I do what I do. I didn't care for a minute that I had been at work for 12 hours without a chance to sit down to eat. I didn't care for a minute about that prince charming. I only cared about her and her treatment and her happiness and her future.