You may remember that it had been my intention to become a counselor in the growing up years of my past, but what I did fail to mention is that I really wanted to become specifically a substance abuse counselor. This idea did dissolve into nothing through my lack of confidence and self-assertion that kept me from pursuing this lofty goal. Once I realized how incredibly naive I must have been, despite my alcoholism that I had defeated (or so I thought), then it was easy to abandon the idea. I knew that I could hardly account for myself, let alone certifiably account for anyone else, so what’s the use of my ineptitude?
Perhaps I could have been of some use to someone, but more importantly, I did need to realize that it’s not my job to save the world. Don’t get me wrong, a really excellent counselor can make a world of difference in an individual’s life, but honestly, I’m a terrible counselor. I don’t have the hard core “staighten up and do right” demeanor, and my reflective listening never really gets me anywhere with anyone, because I’m too busy tending to my own inner voice to actually perceptively offer insight or truth or meaning to anybody. Honestly not selling myself short, I promise you that I would have sucked at this job and cried myself to sleep every night. May God bless the able counselors. It does take actual skills.
So what is it that I’m doing with my life? Planning ahead to drink wine and cursing my obsessive thinking. I know, you must be jealous. I hope that if this writing exercise struck a chord with anyone that help might and could be on the way. Frankly, life is just so incredibly challenging that it helps to have friends and family that love you just the same. That’s all I have to offer: that I can love you just the same, and that’s about it. I’m not much help. At least I’m up front about it, and I promise that I could look up a number of somebody for you, you know, that you propose to be interested in as a counselor. Not me.