Sometimes you don’t know how stressed and overwhelmed you are until you find yourself on the verge of a panic attack outside of a post office…
For anyone outside of the world of mental health and particularly outside of mental health in California, it is hard to articulate the ways of the California Board of Behavioral Sciences. Completing my hours for licensure within the state of California as a clinical counselor with an out of state degree was no small feat. Requiring accuracy and precision with very little explanation and several “wet signatures,” completion of all the experience and necessary forms to have my hours approved had taken years. You would think having enough wherewithal and intellect to make it this far, I would have all the skills necessary to complete what would be assumed to be “the easy part.” But within moments of attempting to fill out the application to have my hours reviewed, my confidence was shattered as I felt suddenly completely inadequate to complete the forms with certainty and accuracy. Despite this, I got up the courage to just complete it to the best of my ability and let go.
My fingers trembled as I placed within a large envelope 5+ years of blood, sweat, and tears mixed with so many future hopes and desires. As I released the packet that would set in motion the next step in my journey, I felt sick to my stomach and could barely drive home. By the time I got to my house, I was in tears. Where I had expected to find relief, instead I found anxiety. Whether it was a wave of awareness of all the stress and tension I’d be holding for so long or a premonition of what was to come, I didn’t feel settled. As friends offered congratulations and encouraged celebration, instead I requested pause. “We can celebrate when my hours are approved,” I offered over and over again. Trying to stop and enjoy how far I had come instead of fixating on how far I had to go wasn’t working. I felt stuck. Having sent the envelope certified mail, I began to obsessively check the tracking status. As the days passed, my feelings of apprehension grew. Why hadn’t it arrived? Feeling desperate and distressed, I requested a case be opened by USPS. Then a response… “The only suggestion we have is for you to file a Missing Mail Search.”
This is the nightmare of every mental health professional in California, and apparently now, it’s my reality. I wish I felt confident that the envelope would be found or that the Board of Behavioral Sciences would feel gracious and let me send in copies or maybe even that my past and present clinical supervisors would all be readily available to re-sign all my forms despite the holidays being in full swing, but I don’t. I have absolutely, positively, no confidence at all. Instead, I’m berating myself for taking the unorthodox path when all my other friends are licensed. I’m filled with fear as requirements for my license are constantly changing and a new one I haven’t met will come into full effect on January 1, 2020.
So what do you do when your hopes and dreams are lost in the mail? How do you manage when you feel like you needed a win, but there don’t seem to be any breaks in sight? What do you do when you need to keep it together as you care for others, but your future hangs in the balance and it’s hard to focus? How do you respond when you just knew deep down in your bones that something wasn’t right, but you had to move forward anyway?
Apparently you cry, text supportive friends, chat with your sister, pray a couple confused and angry prayers, and then you wait. You sit in the middle and you wait, and you wait, and you wait. I don’t know who is the the middle right now, who is confused and angry and feels like nothing is going right. I don’t know who is on the verge of an impulsive decision when what they really need to do is keep still. I don’t know who is ready to throw in the towel at half-time because it feels like there’s no chance you’re winning the game. But I want you to know that whoever you are, I sit here with you. When words just aren’t comforting and there’s no easy fix, I’m there with you, too. Let’s just sit…
Caught in the Quarter Life 