what a long strange trip i've been on...

I've gone back to school.  I have decided that my program (aka my baby) is far more successful than I could've ever imagined.  The data is incredible--over 75% of program participants are still sober at 6 month follow up. That's amazing.  I'm so proud of my baby.


Since I last blogged, my program has been recognized as a top performer by the federal government, I was invited to speak about my program at a national conference, and we've been awarded enough funding to keep the program going for another 5 years.  I have been very, very fortunate.  


I have accomplished much more with this program than I ever thought I would in my lifetime.  Now I'm itching for a new challenge.  So what next?  Well, I was thinking about all the times I mentioned therapy on this blog.  I realized that while I don't have any clinical training, my amateur therapist diagnoses at work can be pretty accurate.  And I recognized that for some strange reason, people find it easy to open up to me.  I think Fate is trying to tell me that I should become a therapist.  


I am now a graduate student at USC's School of Work (yes, I'm back at my alma mater and, yes, I'm taking these classes online).  I thought I would share with you my admissions essay.  When a friend proofread it, her first comment was, "This reads like a blog post."  I guess I'll just make it one.

I just didn’t know what to say. 

He was sitting there across from me, his face buried into his hands.  “I thought for sure that test would come out positive,” he said to me in Spanish.  “I deserve it.”

Nelson was referred to me by one of the HIV testing counselors.  He was sent to me because of his primary HIV risk behavior—alcohol and drug abuse.  I am the creator and current program manager of (name redacted), the outpatient substance abuse treatment program for formerly incarcerated Latinos at (name redacted).  I see many addicts in my line of work.  But none of them wanted to be HIV positive until now.

Why would anyone think they deserve to get infected with HIV?  I asked him, “Why do you feel that way?”

He lifted his face up from his hands, but didn’t lift his eyes to meet mine.  “Because I’m attracted to men.  Because my God says this is wrong.  I am a sinner!  I deserve to be punished.”

I took a deep breath.  It was as if my cousin was there in the room with me.  

My cousin Pedro lived in a rural part of Mexico in the state of Veracruz.  We were estranged for much of my childhood although we kept in touch over the phone.  However, we didn’t meet until we were adults.  Pedrito had not come out to his family but in private he came out to me.  He figured his liberal, American cousin would understand him in ways that our traditional, Catholic family would not.  My cousin also revealed to me that he was HIV positive.

 I was well-versed in HIV, AIDS, and the history of the epidemic.  Yet none of that prepared me for my cousin’s news.   With my heart beating rapidly, I embraced my cousin and pledged him my undying support.  And then he asked me to keep it all a secret. 

Although my cousin wanted to keep his sexuality and HIV status a secret, I regret now not encouraging him more to talk about this with our family.  As the years passed by, he refused to seek treatment for HIV because he did not want anyone in the family to know that he was gay and sick.  He was devoutly Catholic and, from talking to him about this, I realized that he harbored some self-hatred.  My cousin was taught to believe that his sexuality was not normal, that it was not of God.  From his point of view, it was in his nature to sin against God every time he was attracted to a man.  For him, HIV was his penance for this grave sin—a suffering he was willing to endure for God’s absolution.

  

One beautiful evening, my mother called me from across the country.  Her words were still difficult to take in.  “I’m sorry, baby, but Pedrito passed away from pneumonia,” my mom said.  I cried, but not because I was sad.  I cried tears of rage and frustration—anger at a society that forced my cousin to pretend to be someone else and frustration that I did not do more to help him come out and seek help.

I was still in the anger stage of my grief when I met Nelson.  As Nelson spoke it was as if my cousin was speaking to me.  I saw too much of my cousin in Nelson. 

I moved my chair closer to Nelson and took his hands in mine.  “Nelson,” I said calmly, “the God I know loves you very much and is very sad that this is what you have decided to do with the life He gave you.  Still, I’m glad He brought you here because I know that He wants me to help you if you let me.”  Nelson looked up at me and when his eyes met mine I saw hope.

The next five months went by in a blur.  Nelson enrolled in treatment, where we provided him with individual counseling and group counseling.  The program was lacking a case manager so I filled that role for Nelson, aiding him in creating a plan for his life, setting goals that he was determined to achieve.  I found him a new church, a Universalist Unitarian Church that showed Nelson that God truly loves us all regardless of sexuality.  I connected him to a job training program so that he could one day apply to be a construction manager.  By the time he graduated, Nelson had celebrated 150 days of sobriety.

Two years later, Nelson is still sober, still working, and still going to church.  He takes his challenges one day at a time.  And when he needs extra support, he knows where to go.                     

These days I see my cousin everywhere—in the fragile woman who drinks to ease the pain of her husband’s punches, in the undocumented immigrant who became a homeless drug addict because he did not realize his American dream, in the closeted man who drinks to erase the shame of his sexuality.  Pedrito is everywhere in everyone and I help them all the same.  I may not have saved my cousin, but he has enabled me to save others.  This is where my passion lies—helping the hopeless find their hope and empowering them to change their lives. 

Wherever he is, I know that Pedrito is proud of me and the work that I do.  I know I am.     

  

drive by guilt trip

I'm hosting a big event for my program this week and I've been crazy-busy lately trying to get everything ready in time.  This means long hours at work and no time for me.  Last Thursday, another day that I stayed late at work, I was waiting for a bus at the Pentagon.  Because it was way past rush hour, there weren't too many people waiting for a bus at that time.  I was in the middle of texting the bf when a woman said something to me from a few feet away.

Me:  I'm sorry but what did you say? 

Lady: I asked you if you just got off from work.

Me: Yes, I did.

Lady: You're so lucky.  Must be nice to have a job to get off from.

Me: ????

I was the victim of a drive by guilt trip.  I had no idea who this woman was and had never seen her before but the last thing I expected to be subject to while waiting for the bus is a guilt trip by a complete stranger. 

What she doesn't know is that a key component of my program is case management and my case managers have done an excellent job in finding jobs and job training for the participants that are unemployed. 

What she doesn't know is that I am completely aware of how lucky I am to have a job.  I honestly do think about this every day.  I realize that unemployment is high and I'm certainly fortunate to have a job in this economy.  I'm lucky because I have the capacity in this job to help people who need it.  I'm especially lucky because I love what I do. 

Upon realizing this, I decided to just go about my business.

Guilt trip over. 

an opportunity defended

“Now I see my future clearly now. I was lost, and now I know what I want. I’m gonna start school again and make a better life for myself. Now I won’t have to worry about causing myself or my family pain. I can walk around with my head held up high and take it day by day. I wish there were more programs out there like the program [name redacted]. We need programs that show results, and I’m one of them. I’m a happier and healthier person as a result of this program.”*

He was just on his way to the clinic where the program activities are held. A good kid with a troubled past, he had been working hard on turning his life around in the past few months. He’s been sober for 90 days—and liking it. He felt so much better about everything—his health, his family, his future. He was even thinking of finally going to college and studying art or business. Heck! Why not both?

The sky’s the limit.

So when an unmarked vehicle pulled out of the alley and shined his lights on him, he didn’t think anything of it. That is until the cops came out to have a chat. What are you doing here? What’s your name? What’s your business in this neighborhood?

“Dude, I was just walking,” he would explain to me later. “I don’t know why they stopped me and they didn’t tell me. Damn.”

His case manager and I ran out to find these cops. I was livid. He seemed pretty shaken up. I’m very protective of the people in my program. You see, sobriety is a very delicate thing. People in recovery are ALWAYS in recovery for the rest of their lives. Anything can be a trigger to drink or use. And this kid was doing so well. The last thing he needed was to be stopped by cops for no reason. Yeah, a long time ago he was not so law abiding. But he paid for his crime and was working on improving his life now.

I ran into a cop in uniform who was definitely not one of the cops who stopped my client. I explained the situation to him and he smirked and said, “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about but they left.” Uh huh. I responded, “Look, this kid is a patient and he was coming to the clinic for services. The last thing I want is for cops to stop my law-abiding patients just a few feet from the clinic door. They shouldn’t feel afraid of coming here.”

He said, “Yeah, I get it. It’s just that the guy fit the description of this gang member we’re looking for.”

I replied, “Let me guess. Hispanic, 5’7”, mid to late 20s, dark short hair, baggy pants? If your pants weren’t cop uniform pants, I would say you fit the description too.”

I gave him my card and asked him to pass it along to his cop friends (no response, unfortunately). I get that they have a job to do and my brother’s a cop so I kget where they are coming from. They deal with criminals every day. 

But where they see ‘gang member’, ‘crime’, and ‘punishment’, I see a cry for help, an opportunity, a second chance. I have a job to do too.

*actual client testimony from client in the post.  used with permission.

the perfect recipe for work burnout

Last week, I was at a conference (I apologize for the lack of blogging) with a bunch of other people running programs similar to mine. .

Normally, I really like conferences like these because they give me an opportunity to learn from others and enhance my program with what I've learned (learning is fun for me because I'm a nerd). But the weeks leading up to this conference have been hard for me at work. I don't have a boss. I have a vacancy in my staff. I've taken on some of the responsibilities left behind by my boss and I've completely taken over the duties that is normally assigned to the person in the position that is now vacant. I've had to review over 100 applications for that vacancy and, after reviewing all of them and doing many phone interviews, I only have one handful of qualified candidates. I've got two reports that I need to write by the end of this week. AND I've been battling this cold/flu/whatever infection for the last 4 weeks.

I'm not whining about all the extra work I've been putting in and all the pressure I've been under (trust me, I did plenty of that the first week I was sick). I don't have time to whine. There's work to be done.

I've been working 10-12 hour days and I haven't taken a single sick day despite being sick. I've spent my weekends in bed, trying to get better. So when last week came around and it was time for my conference, I was a bit relieved. After all, the conference days were only 8 hours long. I haven't worked an 8 hour day in forever!

Each day, I dragged my feet and brain through every workshop and plenary. Even our lunches were working lunches so I basically had no break. But on the third day of the conference the lunchtime speaker was different. For one, he didn't have a power point presentation (yay!). Two, he was pretty dynamic and energetic. It was infectious. Third, he spoke from the heart. Even though he was there to talk about advances in preventing HIV/AIDS in minority populations, he chose to speak about Burnout.

I was shocked that he said The Word (no one talks about burnout in this field because everyone is working towards a greater good and that is worth every sacrifice we make). But when he did say The Word, everyone in the large ballroom nodded in agreement. I thought about the last month. The extra work. The long days. The illness that doesn't seem to go away. It was the perfect recipe for burnout. I was relieved to hear that I wasn't alone in this. But how do I deal with it? The speaker said we all had to find our own way to deal with burnout. This was the first time I had ever felt so overwhelmed by my job. I don't know what to do.

**********

On my last day in the office before the conference I had an initial interview with a potential client. I started going through the motions. I took some basic demographic information from him. He had no family in the area and when I asked him for an emergency contact, he gave me his employer's info. That was odd. I snapped myself out of the routine and asked him, "Why are you here?" It was a general question that could be answered many ways. He answered, "I'm lonely." I continued, "Why do you feel lonely?" He looked down at his feet and was quiet for a moment. He stammered for a bit before he answered (while not looking at me), "I'm gay. And no one knows. I try so hard not to be gay, but I can't do this anymore. It hurts to be lonely so I drink until I don't feel anything. It's so much easier to be numb than to be gay."

At that moment, I felt my heart break. I wanted to hug him, but that would be inappropriate. Instead, I got out of my chair and squatted low enough to get to his level so he would look at me (he was seated) and I told him, "It's ok. We're going to help you. I promise you that your life is worth living. We're going to show you. As of today, you're no longer alone."

**********

This is why I have no time for burnout. There's obviously work to be done. My potential for burnout is trivial compared to the all the people who are hurting like the person I described above.

how to make sure your resume doesn't get noticed

By the end of 2008, the number of unemployed people in the US rose to 11.1 million, resulting in an unemployment rate of 7.4%. People are getting laid off and let go left and right. On the other hand, some companies are reducing pay or forcing furloughs in order to minimize layoffs.

Despite the horrible news on the employment (or lack thereof) front, I find myself in a strange predicament--I need to hire somebody. Last week, someone on my staff quit in order to take a job closer to home to cut down on the costs of her commute. And now I need to replace this someone.

Needless to say, upon posting the job, we got a lot of responses. I was delighted, but not surprised, to see that so many people wanted this job. However, because of the sheer volume of the responses, someone (ie. me) had to go through them and thin out the herd.

What I saw in the pile of resumes was a bit shocking.

Now, let me preface the following by saying that the last time I needed to hire anyone, I was the HR manager at the Crap. It's a simple job application, no resume required. But I have sent out my fair share of resumes in my time and I've always wondered after sending if the cover letter was too long, or if I made the points I needed to make in my cover letter, or if my resume was in a readable format, or if I used the right size font for increased readability.  It's interesting to be on the other side as the recipient and to see what I have seen.

OK, so back to the present. I read through the pile and the following perturbed me:

• When a job listing asks for a cover letter, please provide a cover letter. This is for THREE reasons--ONE, the job may require a lot of writing and we want to get a taste of what you can do and, TWO, we'd like to know if you can follow directions, and, THREE, we want to know why you think you're great for this job.

• Piggybacking on the previous note, an email does not count as a cover letter. If you're email contains the following information--your intent to apply for X job which you found on Y website and NOTHING ELSE--that is not a cover letter. I need to know why you want the job and why your experience makes you a good candidate for the job and a short email with little detail will not cover that.

• Also, please don't email your resume in the text of an email. It's best to send it as an attachment. Just because your resume may be all formatted pretty in your email doesn't mean it will translate that way into our email. And the last thing you want is HR having a hard time reading your resume because of the extra spaces and tabs appearing where they shouldn't be.

• Your resume need not be the length of a novella. I don't need 4 pages detailing everything you did in college and high school. It would be best to keep your resume short and list the relevant job experience, using the job posting as your guide.

• Speaking of relevant job experience, take a look at that job listing. When it says something to the effect of "Minimum 2 years experience doing X, Y, and Z", we mean it. So, if I'm looking for someone with experience working with addicts and you're telling me your relevant experience is deworming orphans in Somalia (yes, I stole that from Legally Blonde), then you may not be the best candidate for the job compared to someone who's worked with addicts for 5 years.

• Try not to type your cover letter and resume in Courier New font. Hey, I was in college once. In fact, I wrote many papers as an English major, most of which had a required minimum length. Everyone knew that, if you're lacking in material, Courier New will lengthen your writing piece. So seeing a resume in that font is a bit offputting.

• I realize this may be hit or miss with some agencies, but don't be afraid to follow up on your application. This is definitely something I've been guilty of in the past. Unfortunately, some HR departments are slow to act (*cough* mine *cough*). But when the HR lady tells me that Suzy Q has been emailing to check up on her application, it shows me that you really want it. Just don't over do it. One or two contacts a week is nice. A call or email every day is not.

Well, that's all I've got so far although the applications keep coming (yay for me!). I hope the above doesn't come across as complaining or being snarky. I honestly wasn't trying to be. I know that there are lots of people looking for jobs out there and I am lucky to not only have my own job but also to be in the position to hire someone. I'm simply trying to be helpful and to offer a perspective from the other side.

if anyone knows condoms, it's me

Did you know that 1 in 20 District residents is HIV+?

Yeah, it kinda makes you rethink that random hook up from this past weekend.

I can't stress this enough with my clients or the 5 people who read this blog: use a condom every time!!! Since I practically live and breathe this message, I know quite a bit about condoms. I'm constantly reading reviews and testing what's out there to see what condoms the community would actually use. Sure, you can give people your basic Durex condom for free (with some lube and some educational materials), but they won't use it unless it feels good. And your basic Durex condom (which DC's HIV/AIDS Administration loves to give out for free--despite my disappointment--when they have condoms available) is really no fun.

So here is what I know...*

Worst Flavored Condom
Trustex Flavors
(image courtesy of condom.com)

Maybe the vanilla flavored works but the others all have a lube-y aftertaste, which might lead to an activation of the gag reflex which is so not sexy during oral. Also the smell is not pleasant (smells like lube but with sugar). But I have to give Trustex some points on the cheeky banana flavored condom, despite it's grossness.


Best Flavored Condom
Lifestyles Flavors
(image courtesy of condom.com)

If you're about to perform oral sex on someone, this is the condom to use, girls. There's still a bit of a lube-y aftertaste, but it's very minor compared to Trustex. And the smell is similar to the flavor--for example the Strawberry flavored condom actually smells like strawberry! Imagine that!

Worst Condom for Sensitivity
Trustex Extra Strength
(image courtesy of undercovercondoms.com)

Yes, I get that no one wants a condom to break during sex. So maybe you're tempted to pick up an Extra Strength condom. Well, don't reach for the Trustex! Their Extra Strength condom is so thick, you might as well kiss sensitivity out the window.

Best Condom for Sensitivity
Crown Skin Less Skin
(image courtesy of condomdepot.com via amazon.com) 

I had never even heard of these condoms before I started my HIV prevention job, but apparently everyone loves them! These condoms are light pink in color and super thin, yet incredibly strong. Forget "ribbed for your pleasure"! This is the condom you want to use if you want to feel like you're not using a condom at all.

Best Condom for Large Girth but Average Length
Lifestyles XL
(image courtesy of safesense.com)

Honestly, the only thing that is XL about this condom is the width. It is about 15% wider at the base that your typical condom, but it's less than 8 inches long (average condom length hovers between the 7 to 8 inch mark). So if your partner is stocky (down there, I mean), then this is the best condom for you.

Best XL Condom that lives up to the Hype
Trojans Magnum
(image courtesy of allcondoms.com)

I like to go against the grain sometimes and these condoms are so damn popular that I really wanted to hate them. But I can't. However, this condom is truly for the well-endowed man (wide girth and long length) as it is wide (though not as wide as Lifestyles XL) and definitely long. Remember, fit is everything when it comes to condoms (a good fit ensures less slippage and less breakage). So if you're really not that big or wide, don't get these condoms just to boost someone's ego.


Best Condoms when you're fumbling around in the dark
One Glowing Pleasures
(image courtesy of onedesigncontest.com)

One Condoms are awesome. Their packaging is great and unique (each individually wrapped condom contains a message on it with a play on the word 'one') and the Glowing Pleasures condom glows in the dark for about 30 minutes which should be more than enough time to find it while you're making out in the dark. In addition, the condom, while lubricated, doesn't smell very lube-y.

Best Condom Overall
Crown Skin Less Skin
Oh, Crown. Everyone who's tried this condom totally loves it. It has just the right amount of lube (however, if you like lube, you might want to add a bit more) and DOESN'T SMELL. I don't know about you, but smelly condoms are a bit of a turn off. Also, the material is so thin that most guys I know who have used it claim it feels like there's nothing on. If you don't like using condoms because of *insert excuse here*, then these are the ones for you.

Remember, peeps--no glove, no love. Keep yourself and your future partners protected.

* These reviews are from my experiences and the experiences of other people in the field, as well as feedback from clients. If you know of other great condoms out there (or really crappy ones) then please make your case in the comments.

on losing one and only one

 image courtesy of noaa.gov

One of my clients died.

For privacy reasons, I can't really get into the details. But it was sudden. And it has had an impact on the other clients.

In the days following the news of his death, it has been my job to put on a strong facade for both the staff and the clients. On the inside, it's been hard to be strong.

I do not usually question my ability to do my job. I love my job and have always felt that it's the perfect job for me. But I've never had a client die. And it really just breaks my heart. And my reaction to his death leads me to believe that maybe I'm not strong enough for this.

This is one of those rare moments when I wish I wasn't so passionate. Why do I care so much? Is caring this much about my job, my clients, the community negatively impacting my ability to do this job? Is it possible to care too much? If so, how can I stop caring as much as I do?

We work so hard to help people turn their lives around. And my heart soars when I see them succeed--when the clients get a job or go back to school or have a baby. It makes the struggle so worth it so see them realize that they have the strength to make positive changes in their lives.

When one of them goes back to their old habits, it truly makes me sad. I know it's all part of their journey, but I'm in this to see them succeed.  I don't want to see them falter.

I don't know. Maybe I'm always going to care as much as I do.

how to make your boss happy

I used to work a job that didn't make me happy. It wasn't what I wanted to do. And after many years of working in something that I didn't want to do, I finally found that one job that I really want to do. And let me tell you--it's hard work. On top of all that, I get paid peanuts for what I do. But, that's not why I do it.

In my previous job (where I was unhappy), the work was incredibly dull and unchallenging. That sounds like a line for a job interview but for me it was true. With each day, I hated it (and myself for staying there) more and more. Certainly there was more out there for me.

Like every other job I didn't like, I still excelled. I'm not the kind of person to do things half-assed. I'm either completely committed or I'm not. And despite my unhappiness, I was committed. But I needed a reason to do my job, something other than pay. I wanted validation. I hoped that someone would take notice that I was working hard. I wanted some recognition.

I never got it.

So now I'm doing something I love. And feedback is still pretty hard to come by. But I'm not really seeking validation and recognition any more. I do my job because I love my job. And loving my job makes me happy. Therefore, doing my job makes me happy. I know that I do good work and that's all that matters. Whether or not someone notices is irrelevant.

I was in the middle of a project today when one of my counselors walked up to me and said, "I've been noticing the work that you do and I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a good job." I looked at her flabbergasted. I quickly composed myself and sheepishly said, "Thanks." She continued, "No really. I'm glad you're here." It was all I could do to keep my lower jaw from falling to the floor.

And I know that I certainly don't need any recognition at my new-ish job, but hearing that totally made my day.