At Double H, I learned how important it is to get off the roller coaster.

If you do anything long enough, things happen. One minute you're the counselor everyone's talking about having magical powers. The next you're standing in the middle of a bumper car ride trying to get a wild child off. The one they specifically put you with because she's so hard, but you've connected, and right now you're cursing that connection. 

Did I mention that all of the administrative team was watching?

And after it's all over, it's really just beginning, because sometimes the thoughts we tag to situations, and the emotions we allow to take residence, are worse than what they could be. 

So you look at Mattie (the first other counselor you see) with eyes that beg as you ask him to take Child from you and you cry some next to a shrub. 

At an amusement park. Amusing?

Yeah. But when you make life how big you are, when you realize how small you really are, it hurts more.

When you make it about how much praise you're given, when it's gone, you have to be left with something.

When you make it about how many guys you get attention from, when there's none, you question everything you are. 

When you make it about how well you're playing, there is an annihilation of joy when you have a bad game. 

How high you let yourself get feeds right into how low you go. 

I've been teasing that out in myself the last couple years. 

It's ultimately destructive. 

I've been doing that with work. 

Treat someone with respect, and this weird thing happens. They respect you. 

And so there have been many cases where my personality and approach has been a gift to people...particularly the mentally ill and the marginalized.
I've had great feedback.

But I'm no longer a slave to great feedback.

I control endorphins. I remember that I'm not saving the world. I'm just trying to serve others in a tough time. I'm trying not to do it because I hope someone will do the same for me one day. I'm just doing it because it's the right thing to do.

The funny thing is, sometimes someone makes a comment. And I haven't taken it home with me. Because if I've treated him or her with respect or care, I know the comment has more to do with general grumpiness and frustration than with me personally. They actually apologized. But, even if they hadn't, the fact that I didn't carry shame and personal responsibility for something that only marginally "my fault" e.g. telling them that they are getting out of bed, is a win.

Because to do this job well, you can't be on the roller coaster. You have to push an arm when it hurts. You have to have someone sit up in the chair. If you're concerned about doing pushing people in a fun, empathetic, empowering way, that's a good focus. If you're concerned on getting positive feedback, on avoiding negative feedback, you've just distorted the purpose of your job to curing people for YOU.

As Henri Nouwen wrote, the desire to cure without [demonstrating] care is like a gift given with a cold heart.
It's early, and it's scary to think about drifting from these fundamentals as years pass. But, if I commit just to tomorrow, everyday...respecting, loving, applying my gifts and education...I know that I will have run the race the best way I could have.