Here are some of my favourite features about my day job. For now I will fake amnesia and forget about the chronic low pay and oppressive and idiotic upper management and administration. I will forget about the near absence of opportunities for moving forward and the unlikelihood of a raise before I retire in five years. I will also forget about the built in stigma in this job and the experience of being cynically exploited as a role model of recovery for our clients. I will also blithely forget about the social marginalization and the many small acts of exclusion that occur for peer support workers by much better paid psychiatrists, case managers, rehab therapists and others. And last but not least I will not worry my sweet little head about the absence of benefits from my job, a particularly cruel irony given that as the lowest paid workers, if you are not on a disability pension and your job is your only source of income (my case), you are going to have to pay for all your dental care, etc. from out of your own pocket and resources.
Today is a splendid example of what I like about my job. I had a brief visit with my client this morning, since he had another professional appointment a half hour later, making it necessary for us to finish early. I had no other work today, save for one afternoon cancellation for which I am already getting paid. I could spend the remainder of the day doing whatever I wanted. And I did.
I enjoyed a long walk of some five miles or so in the hot summer sun, but with a lot of shade along the way. I walked through a couple of wealthy neighbourhoods, surrounded by palatial homes, towering shade trees and gardens. For four glorious miles. I ended up in one of my favourite coffee shops, which is my usual Saturday retreat. I chatted with the friendly owner then sat in a comfy chair in the corner where I rehydrated myself with iced coffee and very cold water while drawing and colouring in my sketchbook. A lady asked if she could share my table since her back was needing a comfy chair. We had a pleasant conversation and she also took interest in my art.
Almost two hours later I left. I was too tired from mild heat stress to go on to hike in the woods. I got on the bus, did my grocery shopping and went home where I rested briefly, then went to a café in my neighbourhood, also with a comfy corner, for more iced coffee and art. This same café is also showing some of my paintings. If you happen to live in the Vancouver area it is called "BC's Best Coffee", Drake St. and Howe, by the Howe Street entrance onto the Granville Street Bridge. I also had pleasant brief conversations with the owner's daughter and a customer before returning home to do paperwork and have dinner. It's a great café and as I told the owner's daughter, they have a gift for making downtown feel like a small town.
This all seems very twee, of course and it's never as lovely and idyllic as we often like to make it. But, despite my low wages, for today's work I will be paid four hours for twenty minutes actual work. Including phone calls and paperwork it would be more like forty-five minutes. Still a deal.
This happens often. Despite the other crap there is a lot of freedom and flexibility in this job. On top of that there is the joy of working with people who are also moving forward in their lives and recovery. I am always learning, every day, on the job. I also get to do my art in many instances while supporting clients as an art therapist to explore art and creativity as part of their recovery process.
There will never be a dream job. There will always be nightmare jobs. Mine is the choice of where I am going to direct my gaze and mine is the choice as to what besides a paycheque I can expect to draw from this kind of work and service. This work is real, if imperfect. It keeps me grounded and moves me forward.
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