My first client…an awful lesson to start with

I don't even know how to even begin to talk about what just happened
I had never even thought about it...it wasn't even a possibility in my head...a missed appointment...I knew he had relapsed...he told me he had relapsed...first he said pot and then...then I knew...and I understood...I tried to show him that I was still going to be there...listening...I knew that I could do that much.  Even when he didn't want to talk about it, I knew...it was a horrible feeling then.  That first missed appointment, it was the first time I cried about this therapy work we do...what we do...especially here.  This piece of shit of a disease...I can't stand it...what they live in...that pain and that void...this fucking pit that they need to fill...

I say I knew...but I didn't really know...not this part of it. He tried to show me....this amazing kid in so much pain....I say kid because that's what I saw when he sat with me...this beautiful kid in a 20 year-old body...but wanting to be loved.  He drew...it was awesome...what he brought in to show me.  "Draw it: what does this addiction mean to you...?"  He did...he drew it in 5-6 pages.  And...ugh...that's when I started to get it...or see it.  He showed me what heroin was like for him...he drew what it represented to him...the voice behind it...the desperation behind it.  He screamed it out all over those pages.  And he was like a little kid...so excited to show me what he'd drawn and so willing to tell me about it. I wish I had those drawings with me....God, I so wish I'd have kept them or copied them.  There was the house of cards...the two faced creature...the big neon door yelling at him to come in...he told me how "in" that door was the heroin...that feeling. There was him...alone on an island...everything in color...him in black and white...there was a ladder and a hot air balloon and a big smile on the balloon and a little devil peeking out from the basket....we talked about getting off that island.  I started to understand more...I hated this fucking disease so badly that day...I hate it so much more today...

The last time he was here....I had agreed to come on a Saturday...he had started a job...was all excited, but could no longer make our morning appointment. Probably even excited that he couldn't make our morning appointment… So...I said ok....Saturday the center was open...I could do group too...but I told him...I said, "C.P.,..listen...I'm missing out time with Luna...so if you don't come I'll be upset." He agreed.  Then came Saturday and I did group and saw another client and then waited...and waited...12:00 came and went...then 12:15...12:30...now I was getting pissed...12:45...he calls..."Um really sorry, I overslept...missed the bus...I'm 5 minutes away".  I'll never forget that morning...not anymore.  He walked in looking like something other than him....he smelled and was only half here...and I was mad...but at least he was here.  I was firm that day...I don't think he expected it...I didn't expect it...I was loving...I told him I was there to help...but I was firm.  He told me plenty of times before...how he bullshitted his way through treatment all the time...we talked before this about bullshitting with me.  So when the dump started oozing out his mouth that day, I laughed with him and called it out.  He laughed…but I was still firm. We knew he had used.  Bullshit or not.  We did talk some other stuff too...about getting paid...the pay check. He told me how excited he was when they handed it to him…how he opened it so quickly that he actually ripped the check…so excited he almost ruined the thing he valued (so symbolic) it was money...with devil faces on it...I asked about a bank account...I asked about giving it to someone to hold..I asked what he could do to not have it in his face....we DID talk about that stuff...

Saturday came and went...he missed...I called...left a voice mail...I left that message just as he was dying.

He overdosed. He fucking died......

He got paid on Friday…that paycheck…the excitement. He got paid and was excited and excitement led to temptation and the craving and the bright neon lights calling for him. He used…it was so exciting to him…such a craving…that pulsating thrill calling so loudly. He used and he used so much…he forgot how much was too much…limits…he forgot limits. It was too much……..

My supervisor called me in...I thought I'd done something wrong.  Never expected to hear what I heard.  and I don't know or expect to know what to do with it now.

I'm ashamed at how selfish that sounds...that it could be anything about my feelings right now. But at least there's feeling there...cause…a real scared part of me wants to just drop it and run away.  A scared part that's kicking at my head..."if I'd not been hard on him that day"..."if I'd said something differently"..."If I'd listened more"..." If I'd listened less"…."If one of the experienced counselors had taken him as a client. Someone more experienced"  

In one of his drawings…the one he laughed about the most, there was turtle-like character with fists and fists full of cash…and in big letters "I wanna be successful". Something in me said to test this…to push that "success" comment. I asked him and pushed the envelope…I asked him why the wads of cash were so big if success is what he wanted. He talked about cash and money and wads of it…how that's success. I pushed him some more…I stressed…"Yeah, but then why didn't you say I wanna be rich"…he told me I was looking to hard into it. I'm a new therapist…I felt bad for pushing it…I dropped it…and every time I listened to the audio of that session….when it got to that part of the session…I literally wanted to vomit…I'd messed up…I pushed too hard. Now…OMG…now I wish I'd pushed more about the money. My instinct knew…why had I betrayed my instinct. He was telling me…he was saying in that picture that money was the first devil…heroin the second…the first led to the second. I should have pushed that more…instead of getting scared.

I know...this is a fucking asshole of a disease.  The staff at my internship is so loving...but I don't want that right now..I want to ignore it.  When someone says there's nothing we could do differently...ugh...then why are we here?  I get it...I do...I understand that it's out of my control...but if we're here to make a difference...then how can I say " I  couldn't have said_____" ...............I don't know.

This really sucks...you know what sucks most....is that I cared for this kid.  I mean...I could sense his pain....I heard him talk and could hear...this little cry sometimes that would come out in a forced laugh...this crying out for boundaries and expectations his parents never gave him....crying about anger he had...crying out some deep sadness...but crying it out in that nervous laugh.   I didn't find it annoying...I found it…..sad.
I have a video of our last session.  I was supposed to present it to class today.  I hate that. I read the transcript of the session…I cried…and cried…it was all there that day.  heard him and challenged it…him. Unfortunately, it was already too late.

He was my first client…my very first…real…regular…invested in him client. You can learn all the "counseling skills" you want in a class…but the moment you sit with that first client and let it go…omg…it is scary and weird and exciting all at the same time. They say you never forget your first client. I won't…I so won't

Part of me just wants to keep moving, too. I want to just keep seeing new clients keep working through it…talk about it, but work beyond it…not letting that doubt seep in….not allowing that time for the doubt that could grow out of this. I know that I process it…I take care of the part…I have people to talk to and I assume I'll be feeling this off and on for a while. That makes me human….that's part of what makes me a counselor. And then part of me feels less than human…not getting it or understanding and feeling really alone in this. That no matter what I'm feeling….someone is judging it…and that makes me scared to talk about it…and that's why I'm saying it here.

Please pray…I need something right now…and I'm not sure what. I think I need to feel it…and I'm not able to…I'm so confused…but can't put words. My body is so sad…but I'm not letting my heart be sad. I thought maybe I'd want peace right now…that maybe I would ask you guys for peace…but I think what I want instead is to just feel…I need to feel this and let it fight its way out of my system….then I'll have peace. Please pray, guys…that I can let myself feel the pain.