After I wrote this essay for an MFT application, I stared at it in awe. I finally can see the how the threads and colors of my life are being interwoven into a tapestry.
She opened the door after purging her dinner, glared at me with glassy eyes and trudged to the couch. Unsure of how she felt after relapsing, I asked if she wanted me, a house mom at the eating disorder transitional home, to sit with her. She replied with a shrug. So I made myself comfortable on the couch opposite her. For the next half hour, I listened to her. It was her 19th birthday, and she was alive, to which she was in disbelief and disappointed. While I knew I could not heal her of her eating disorder, depression, and alcohol addiction or force her to believe in her worth, I knew I could listen, ask questions, and validate her pain. In that moment, my vocation and skills finally matched.
As a trained journalist, I cannot describe the exhilarating rush of constructing a story that grabs the reader. Yet, the time I spent creating with words was not the highlight of the job, but rather the time listening to people describe their situation, thoughts, feelings, and ideas. As a trained missiologist, I cannot describe the thrill of helping develop holistic approaches with ministries working with children at risk, but it pales in comparison to my experiences helping South African teenagers grieve sexual abuse or listening to the girl mentioned above process feelings after a binge/purge.
Over the past few years, I have noticed that my desire to listen, validate, and help people navigate thoughts and feelings are interwoven throughout these jobs. This realization has then pushed me to pursue a vocation in which people, not words or programs are at the focus.
