Written by Like a lot of people, I’ve spent a lot of my life wondering whether I’ve made the right choices. Individually, I can’t think of many decisions I regret — although there are a few — but collectively, what direction have they led me in? In the last couple of days, I’ve found myself looking at it in a different way: not so much that I’ve been making wrong turns, but that I’ve been picking up assorted skills that are ultimately going to make me more effective when I get… where? Is it where I currently am trying to get to, which is rescue work, especially with cats? The way things change, who knows, but it’s a good goal right now.
I spent a long time on welfare, with undiagnosed recurrent depression, unable to muster the motivation and energy to really get into motion about anything except writing. That was a combination of outlet, escape, education, and vocation, and was the one thing that gave me hope for the future and a sense of self-worth. Was all this a waste of time? I used to think so, or at best consider it in terms of my own psychiatric state at the time. Technically, maybe, I wasn’t doing anything that would give me a place in the world. But, in that time, I finally began more of the social development that I had very little of in high school, where always the outsider. I was one of the first volunteers at a needle exchange program, and I learned that I could be valuable. I made friends, and learned to talk to the friends of friends who might become new friends. Twice, I found the courage to start a bi-weekly social group for other outsiders — the first time trailed of after six months,the second never really took off, but I learned about talking to people who were shy to help them relax, and about taking responsibility. I learned, in bits and pieces, mostly self-taught, about computers and the Internet and the social opportunities it provided. And, the whole time, I was writing, and my ability to manipulate words, to tell a story, to edit what I create (the hardest part) was growing stronger.
The retail jobs taught me about handling cash, and also that I could do very well dealing with the public, when I’m doing it about a subject I know well. The used bookstore was particularly good for that, I spent a lot of time talking to some of the customers even though the owner wanted me to be dusting shelves instead. The two-year medical office assistant program gave me office skills and computer skills, medical terminology and, ultimately, a work placement that led to a job. That job, even though it was part-time hours, taught me how confident and competent I can be when I’m in an environment where I feel sure of myself. I learned that I can help people who are anxious and frightened to be less nervous, and help people who are sad to feel like someone is listening and caring. I learned to deal with patients that made me frustrated and angry, and with phone calls that made me wish desperately I could give a different answer, and how wonderful it felt when I could be part of making someone’s life better or easier. Switching to the transcription job, my last one, the one that was such a part of my last depressive episode, taught me to be wary of jobs that look too perfect, and to get more information, and that sometimes job descriptions don’t quite match the real expectations, and sometimes being good at what you do isn’t enough.
So where am I now? Working towards becoming a vet assistant… but that isn’t precisely right, because even when I finish this year, I’ll still have my diploma that says I’m a medical secretary. No matter how many programs I take in school, I’ll still have my skills with words, and I’ll still identify strongly with cats and want to help them, and I’ll still be the same empathic person.
It seems obvious, and I’ve heard it in many variations, but somehow it finally kicked in on a level where I’m really starting to believe and truly understand it: what we are isn’t defined by most recent job title or diploma/degree/whatever. We are everything we’ve done, everything we’ve learned, everything we’ve experienced, all our successes, all our mistakes. I’m not here in order to become “a vet assistant,” I’m here to add a new set of skills that I can add to the old ones to create a new whole, in search of a place in the world that needs that particular whole.
Now, all I have to do is get through the next eight months or so, which is going to be a lot less easy than the medical office assistant program was. To see what I’m learning, take a peek at my other blog, “Dr TinyCat’s VA”.
Oh, and what triggered this? My first class held at the Humane Society, and a conversation with the volunteer coordinator afterwards, during which I got the impression that my combination of skills and interests will make me very useful to them even while I’m still learning the VA side… it was a very intense day, this past Monday.
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