I turned thirty-six on Tuesday. My father had four kids by the time he was thirty-six. I don’t have anything else to say about that. It just strikes me as weird. Gives me an uneasy feeling. Ch-ch-ch-ch-change. My entire adult life I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of this mysterious, ubiquitous process. How can I realize the potential within myself? How can I help to facilitate positive change in others who are stuck in self-limiting patterns?
This past week I poured my heart and soul into the kids at the Adolescent Chemical Dependency Center. I was overflowing with compassion, and did my best to make the holiday-in-the-hospital as enjoyable as possible for them. On the surface, everything was moving along smoothly, but I could sense there were things going on behind the scenes. Some folks were up to no good.
I’ve been through this many times before. There’s just no way you can house eighteen teenagers together–most of whom are repeat criminal offenders with frighteningly anti-social tendencies–and expect anything but manipulation, conniving, and blatant dishonesty. But this time it got to me. This time it really hollowed me out. By the time I was through interrogating them, I found out that several kids were involved in a plot to sneak contraband onto the unit. Two of these kids were our “star pupils,” having consistently said the right things in therapy groups and buttered up staff members with tearful expressions of gratitude. Another kid had stolen some magic markers from staff and inhaled the fumes to get high. When I confronted these kids and explained the possible consequences of their actions (further, long-term treatment; going back to jail), several other kids decided to come clean about their true feelings about the program, rallying to support their peers with shouts of “Everything you all teach here is bullshit!” “Honesty is bullshit!” “Sharing feelings is bullshit!” “If we want to get clean, we can do it on our own! You all don’t know shit!”
To say the wind was taken out of my sails would be an understatement. I had invested so much time and energy into these kids, and it turns out that the majority of them had been fronting their way through the program and simply telling me what I wanted to hear so they could go home as soon as possible. They had been pulling time. Nothing more. They never wanted my help. They never wanted to change. They just wanted to get the authority figures off their backs.
I tried all my usual rationalizations to lessen the sting: “Hey, there are at least a few of them who seem to want help.” “Maybe I’m planting seeds for later.” “They’re just kids. They don’t know what they believe.” Nothing did the trick. I just felt sick, sick of trying to help people who don’t want my help. You can’t force change. People have to learn their own lessons I guess. I’m still learning mine.
Being a therapist can leave one hollow and hopeless. I will enjoy my two days off; spend time with my wife; play my guitar; get some exercise. By Saturday, my perspective will have changed. It always changes.