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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.


  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.

  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

  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!:-)