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4/7/11

A Bad Day To Be An Empath

Usually I just turn my curmudgeon up and drown it out, but this morning I was unable to do that.


I work for a substance abuse recovery program for teenage males. Being the gatekeeper and first responder to the pain and frustration of wits-ended parents is bad enough. (I remember those days well.) 
But sometimes, like this morning, adults with substance abuse problems call and they are truly desperate. (The teenagers are having a GREAT time, they really don't get that there's a problem.)

When people actually get a person, they launch into their story (don't you? when you finally get that real person at the bank?). 
They tell you me everything; all of the ugly sad stuff just tumbles out. Pain seeps through the telephone wires.

All I can do is give them some phone numbers. 
Then cry in the bathroom.








3 comments:

  1. I bet you've heard some doozies over time. You can't dwell on it but I guess it is hard to turn it loose.

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  2. Thank you for the music, rock, crashing waves. If you heard the caller's pain through the telephone wires, the caller heard you listening. You're working on the front lines: an Empath Warrior.
    Anon CP

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  3. Wow that is an emotionally difficult job. My brother was an alcoholic. It began when he was 15 and eventually took his life. Tough stuff. I am glad you are out there doing your best to help others. Thank You!:-)

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