The fragility of the mind

It’s been such a weird day today.   I worked on a  psych ward for the first time in ages; with teenagers and I just felt surreal.   I think coming from my own life where I am constantly fighting battles to be the best person I can be for my teenagers,  it just felt slightly odd to be in that maternal role again but as a professional.  I left my shift feeling a bit empty and sad.   The fragility of the mind .   I stood in the room of one young woman,   moved from pillar to post all her life ,  she couldn’t speak ,  she was so lost in her own sorrow and hopelessness ,   I just stood talking softly about nothing much ,  for quite a long time.   I think that perhaps has left me with this emptiness.   That my small role today ,  most likely didn’t make a blind bit of difference in her tragic story .  That my sense of omnipotence was put firmly back in its place.

I then spend the afternoon with my daughter,   thankful for those relational moments,  the sweetness of her laugh and trust in me.   Sad at the shortfall  of  attachment to something good ,  for the lost girl on  the ward  – who languishes between child and adult hood,  unsure of who will care for her next.

 

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