With the changing of the new year came new parity laws with insurance. Earlier in the year I mentioned, with humor to my supervisor, with chagrin to my coworkers and with dread to my husband - this affects only me. Only my job and my stress levels.
And it did. Four weeks in dreary gray of January I sped and bled like a speed demon on the devil track, attempting to get insurance to bend to my will. To make their bed with our company, with our sickest clients. Most refused. A few of the nicer ones - and within the first minute I could usually tell which ones still cared - admitted that 30 years of depression isn't taken care of in 12 three hour groups.
And I cared for the clients when I let myself think about it - because of all the things to inhibit their improvement, insurance shouldn't be the biggest. But often enough, it is. Men with sex addictions and past trauma and a failing job and rising debt should not have to deal with disenchanted wives and impervious insurance companies. And lord knows I wouldn't dare try to approach the wife, but the insurance company has no right, dammit, to get involved! To even presume they knew what is best is ridiculous.
One week I got so incensed that my supervisor had to come in and calm both me and the insurance dog down over speaker. And many weeks I cried.
I didn't realize that the stress of my job bled into the halls until, four months in, I calculated that about 10 of my therapists and coworkers had asked what I did for stress management. Of course, that was a very therapist-y thing to say. I got a cat, listened to audio books, went to plays, watched movies, read crappy romance novels, and ate lots of sugar. I joined two book clubs, a writer's workshop and a yoga class. The downtown public library is surprisingly clean and organized for taking up a whole block, and this helps me soak in the calm that a library always seems to emanate. And the yoga class made me feel as calm as I feel when I visit my childhood home back in southwest Kansas, where the closest neighbor is a mile or so away and even the trees try not to disrupt the flat landscape. I didn't think that calm was something that could be found in the midst of big city skyscraper mess. But it seems I've found a place in it's lap. Or I'm getting more familiar with it, as time goes by. And slowly I am getting into a rhythm with insurance and the new laws.
Part of me hates my job, or maybe all of me hates my job part of the time. Then other days I love fighting for justice. Giving people the green light that they can change their situation, if they are brave enough to face their demons. Sometimes outside forces, like insurance, are the only thing that's keeping a person from doing that. That's where I come in, to fight for them. And after reading progress notes week after week on some client's situation, I would rather face the insurance demons anyday than the personal demons that others face. I've had a bit of a wonderful life; it seems okay that I take on a little stress so those who haven't had it so lucky can find a bit of happiness.
And if it means that I am then justified in indulging myself in extra sugar and as many crappy romances as I want, then so be it.
