Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

In all the paperwork Samaritans sent my way they emphasized how rigorous the training was. How intense it all would be. I took it for granted. Whoo, not anymore. Today was the first day of class. It was eight hours of basically being told that I knew jack shit about communicating with people. Alan (or, rather, Alan86 - in Samaritans you get called by your first name and by the volunteer number you ended up), the current program director and the man leading our training, called it boot camp in that we would be stripped and then built back up, removed from humanity and then made to operate like a team. I agree with that, but I also call it very very painful. Much of what we conversed about was common sense, but for me it's stuff that I never thought intensely about. I know when I'm depressed or upset ("in crisis", they say) I despise when people give me pearls of wisdom like "it'll all work out" or "it'll get better, don't worry", or when they ask "well, what can you do about it" (because if I knew what I could do about it I'd have damn well done it by now) or (biggest peeve ever) they give examples/advice based on what *they* did in the same situation (because no situation is *ever* the same; we're all different people, with different histories and different approaches). Well, why do I try to "help" people that are in crisis by doing exactly what I despise? Why do I dole out advice like I'm perfect? Why do I give blithe answers like that'll solve everything? All day tackling tough questions like that.

One bit that sort of irritated me...well, I think irritated is the wrong word, mainly because I can't think of the right word (per usual). Alan gave us an exercise where we were supposed to empty our minds of all thoughts and words for fifteen seconds. When that time was up he sort of smiled and said "You couldn't do it, could you?" to the class. See, that there was a close-ended question, a question that assumed a "no, we couldn't answer". The type of question that he'd spent the last three hours verbally lashing out of our systems (did I mention how painful this all was?). But I was able to do the mental silencing easily (and thus I assumed some of my training mates did it as well) because that's how I operate. I have no internal dialogue. I shut it all out, I shut it all down. That's how I've learned to cope with life. It's unhealthy and, when I find the energy to think about it, somewhat frightening, but it's how I've been since I can remember. When I have voices in my head I literally have voices in my head. That's when I know that shit is seriously fucked up. That's a bit of personal insight there. See? I'm sharing.

I think I've found a church that'll work for me. At least for tomorrow. I intend to trudge to St. John the Divine in Riverdale bright and early. Mass is at 11, and seeing as I have to open up Le Shack at 11 I can't make that one. But they do have Prayers and Eucharist at 8AM, meaning that I'm going to have to leave the house at 6 in the friggin morning, but I think it'll definitely be worth it. Look, Ma, I'm goin' Episcopalian!

Ugh, I need to go to sleep. Goddamned boot camp.