"We are positioned to help others after years of education, experience, and through our God-given gifts, but that has nothing to do with being perfect."
One of the roughest experiences is being betrayed. Having to sit back and watch it unfold is even worse. The problem is too often, we expect more from others than they can provide. When it’s professional relationships or people you would never expect or suspect because they did such a good job pretending or using religion to cover up their duplicitous nature, it’s harder to show up unbothered.
Being a therapist, I am challenged by others often. Project a perfect life. Never be mad. Do not experience emotions. Be the bigger person. That is the biggest misconception in our field. And some in the field use this to hold some to expectations, while others can do whatever they wish. Therapists are human. I can end this article with that. We are positioned to help others after years of education, experience, and through our God-given gifts, but that has nothing to do with being perfect. No one is perfect.
We know of tools, resources, and research we can readily use. Depending on the situation, like grief, we don’t always choose to use them. And since that can be true, we feel hurt and pain like anyone else. We may respond in ways like our clients. That’s just a fact. Substance abuse is an issue in our field. The same is true with nurses or doctors because the human brain can take so much depravity in the stories we hear and what we see. If we don’t have healthy outlets to process and keep things separate, as in your life versus what you may see and hear, it can get stressful, hence why intense training is necessary.
Our work is fragile and requires that individuals adhere to ethical standards, have values, be integral, and be empathetic to our clients and one another. We don’t always get the latter right. Being betrayed in this field is like a double-edged sword. We expect our peers to know better and to do better because of the profession but fail to recognize that underneath our credentials, it’s just an ordinary person with flaws. Sis may be trying to keep her marriage together, and you remind her of his side chick. Some may be fighting their demons, and your bright take on being a survivor grates their nerves. How dare you be happy? Some have not come to terms with their sexuality and desires, and your boldness to embrace yours is too much for them. Your display of ease can create resentment amongst peers.
I remember doing my internship when a peer told me I was peacocking. I had no idea what she meant. I asked my friends and looked it up in the regular dictionary. And the urban one. She was calling me a show-off. To me, I was walking in my gift. I was doing something that didn’t feel like work. At all. I felt called to the field. She was seeing what God had fulfilled in my life, me walking in my purpose and not allowing anything or anyone to stop me. Looking back, I understand now why things became more difficult the further I grew in the field.
The setbacks, the setups, and the contrived incidents take away from me being a therapist.
Peers purposely sabotaging me, staking out my home or where I frequently purchased cigarettes—or hoping that I experience a downfall so great, I will never practice therapy again. I betrayed myself, thinking that the field I was most comfortable in would be perfect.
I would be friends with everyone I encountered because we were in this together, trying to help others. That has been the cause of my downfall because I kept people close who were intentionally providing information to people who wanted to see me fail or destroyed. I shared my ideas and plans with other clinicians who coveted my opportunities and position.
I was telling someone on March 1st this year; I suddenly woke up. Things suddenly made sense, and any anger or hurt was gone. I was able to see clearly that people will do fucked up shit because they don’t know any other way to be. I was in the crossfire because I put myself there thinking my values applied to them. Things I would never do did not mean they wouldn’t. But more importantly, I shared with her that it had to be this way so that I could finally learn a painful lesson. Sometimes, you want others to see you in a positive light. They don’t and won’t. The people we think would never have our back can and will.
I have never professed to be perfect. So, choosing people who didn’t respect me or my work, I can only learn from that. Those who became defensive, which implied guilt, and then laid on the gaslighting, expecting me to believe they always had my back, I know now that wasn’t the truth. I had every right to be hurt, upset, and disappointed. My decision to walk away was made without knowing all the moving parts. I regret that decision. Although I had suspected certain peers, I ultimately had faith in the wrong people.
These same clinicians knew about people not liking me or who wanted my job but conveniently didn’t know that a large faction of some of the same people who didn’t like me was shoving their breasts in my face to see if I would look. I even had to sit there as they attempted to cover themselves, as though I would look at them. These are women that I was down for, clinicians like me, women of color who shared parts of their stories, which likely misled me into thinking there was mutual respect. Strangely, they were also women whose secrets of mine couldn’t be shared with them. They would never be loyal to me like they were to their cultural belief systems. No matter how much they want me to believe they were non-judgmental of openly Queer black women. No, they aren’t perfect, either.
What is it about my sexuality that has so many straight women concerned? I guess they think I care what they think. I don’t. But that is neither here nor there. In spending time with a family member, I asked, I wonder how heterosexual women feel about their sexual attractions, their list of men they have bodied, conquered, or felt attracted to. Or if they were ever falsely accused of behavior tied to their sexual preference.
I have been uncomfortable navigating being professional and queer. The space is limited. It is unsafe because professional women struggle with believing we have the power to create spaces where we are all safe. We are too caught up in isms and continually fall into race-baiting traps, class division, and competition.