A local church is sponsoring a medical missions clinic in a low income area of Nashville. I was given the opportunity to help provide counseling to individuals who desired to talk to someone.
I don’t know what I can say that doesn’t violate confidentiality, so I’m not going to say much.
Except that I came home crying.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t because I was so moved by the plight of the people I saw. I really wish I could have been that compassionate today.
No, I came home and cried on Mark’s shoulder…
I‘m not supposed to be a counselor. I’m quitting.
I suck at it all. I talk too much. I don’t let people answer my questions. I’m anxious. I’m not one of those warm inviting people lovers. I’m weird and awkward, and people hate me.
That’s not true. How do you feel?
I feel stupid. I am stupid.
You aren’t stupid. What else do you feel?
I am embarrassed.
And I feel really stupid.
I do want to quit. I don’t want to ever talk about another dream. Ever again. I am not a helper, healer, or lover of people. And I am stupid for thinking that I ever could be.
I’m not really sure what even bothers me. That I’m not a very good counselor. That I chose paths that got me out of school faster, rather than waiting for opportunities that would allow me to really grow and challenge my skills. That the whole situation that happened today was unintentionally set up for me to fail. That I feel like that last sentence was so an excuse, and I hate excuses. I plain suck, no excuses.
*Don’t worry about me, though. I am still convinced I shouldn’t be a counselor, but I am in a good mood. I can’t help but smile after watching presidential candidates get pwned by Paris Hilton.