At the beginning of this year, I was hired for a position in the field I am going to school for, Psychology. It felt like a step in the right direction, one I could only go up from. As I grew accustomed to the work in mental health, I enjoyed applying skills I learned through my college classes, which was rewarding. I was fascinated by the hands-on experience I was gaining. Four months into the position, an opportunity to become promoted arose. I honestly didn’t think I had a shot. I decided to apply anyway, figuring even the application process would provide experience.
To my shock, I was hired! I knew I had to leap onto the opportunity. I was offered a wage most people in my field don’t earn without a Bachelor’s degree. Most importantly, I would be receiving experience to not only shape my abilities and career goals but also help me progress into a competitive candidate for future employment and educational opportunities. What could go wrong when everything seemed so right?
Since I was promoted, I began working closely with the administration. In my previous position at the facility, I worked on the floor and had almost no interaction with the “higher-ups”. The perspective I now held differed from the limited one I had at the bottom of the ladder. As I sat in meetings with people who hold the most influence at the institution, I saw that almost nothing was taken seriously for the betterment of our clients. Most, if not all issues, were addressed from a financial loss or gain standpoint, which sacrificed the wellbeing of our residents. I can’t say it didn’t shatter my heart a little to realize that the clients (who were all minors by the way) were not at the company’s highest of priorities. Each time my colleagues and I attempted to advocate for the children and even for ourselves, we were disappointed by the administration’s lack of effort.
I began to understand the cycle of burnout. Working in the mental health field is not a walk in the park, and sometimes practitioners can experience second hand trauma in working with their clients. When they are not protected or advocated for by their administrators, they can be hindered from working to their fullest potential. When clients are not receiving the care that they need, they can behave in ways that are harder for practitioners to work with. And the cycle continues while the administration enjoys its checks. I realized — if I as an employee cannot advocate for our residents, who can?
I went into the position with high hopes and realistic expectations. I am pursuing work and education in the mental health field, which is a practice that demands healthy boundaries and self-care. The more I worked in this position, the less of a priority my health became. I loved my clients and the work I did, but my well-being was plummeting. I began to develop dissociative tendencies in order to survive my work day which carried into my personal life. I found myself hardening a bit, which was foreign to me. I simply wasn’t functioning well or taking the extra care I needed for myself. I quickly saw this bleed into my work performance, which was when I knew it was time to move on.
This was the best job I’ve ever had at the worst facility I’ve ever worked at.
The experience I was getting was unmatched by what I met before, and the residents I worked with touched my heart every day. Yet, I was not protected and neither were they. I wanted to stay for the children, but knew there wasn’t much left I could do. Most importantly, I simply couldn’t work for a facility whose ethics did not align with mine.
I walked away feeling defeated that I couldn’t be the one to make waves in an awful place like that, but it was something much, much bigger than me. I do believe money is the root of all evil and I witnessed it firsthand. I was devastated that this wonderful opportunity could not last, but it was no longer serving me. Just because the opportunity could take me places doesn’t mean it was worth sacrificing my health and morals. At the end of the day, I know I made the right decision to walk.