It feels like I've been up forever. I missed the ferry coming home by literally a minute, so had to wait an hour for the next ferry to come. I slept in line. I slept on the boat. I am exhausted.
One of the hardest things about doing counseling, I am discovering, is that I can't talk about my day with anyone. I cannot share what I have seen or experienced. I cannot unburden my soul of the stories I've heard and witnessed. My commitment to the confidentiality of my clients is unchallenged. They may be three and four years old, but they deserve every right to the highest level of confidentiality that exists.
And so, if I am to make a life out providing psychotherapy, I need to find a way to let the day's residue slide off of me. I am not sure how to do that yet. For now, I will try and tuck away those precious stories, those cherished souls, in a corner of my own soul and perhaps we can find our peace in sleep.
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