#case manager blues

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

containment-grade polycarbonate prison glazing

I saw you putting trash into the hallway. I wanted to say something to you like: “I’m coming to see you. I don’t have an update about your benefits, but your mitigation specialist has been in contact with me.”

You looked very tall next to the officer who was holding open the door for you. She wasn’t wearing a mask. You’re wearing a mask, and I can’t remember the last time I saw your face. Maybe it was through the containment-grade polycarbonate glaze.

Wanted to greet you, but I remembered I couldn’t do something simple like exchange pleasantries with you. I’m wearing my Docs, and you’re wearing an orange jumpsuit

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

*breathes deeply*

Soon, oh so soon I won't have to be the supervisor over someone who is combative, lackadaisical, and lacks the WORSE time management skills.

And I will have a supervisor who is comfortable telling my employee(s) to chill the fuck out professionally.

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

I like case management. People's stories in these books. Being fucking vulnerable, raw, so many emotions. As I move forward with my counseling degree I am eager.

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

Can they tell if it is snowing or raining by looking through the polycarbonate glaze?

I see them all as people - Every crime, charge, or conviction - I see them all as people.

So many white heterosexual cisgender men have sobbed while sitting across from me.

Ashamed. Embarrassed. Overwhelmed. Isolated.

I say to them it's like a three tarot card spread.

The Past. The Present. The Future.

This is what happened because of the choice you made.

This is where you are now and what you can do with the past and and all that space between up until now.

The Future is something we don't predict we know.

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

I finally found information about your death

It was on Capitol Hill off Broadway

August 23rd

I was 2,556 miles away with the worst migraine I ever had

I could feel something was going to be bad

When I returned to work my voicemail box was filled with messages from your mother

She told me you died from an overdose

I will always think about how you came out with they/them pronouns during the reentry group at the jail

"Gender is for you alone" is what you said when you placed your hand on your chest while wearing the orange jail-issued shirt and ignoring the other inmates

I can still hear her thick Tennessee drawl as she explained to me the county coroner was "keeping him until I can find money to bring him home..."

She is alone and the only one left in your family as she battles Stage 4 cancer

I keep thinking about how the last thing you said to me was you didn't want to finding housing in areas of high drug use

"I want things to be different..." then you finished with saying "Okay, well cool man. See you on the 30th." before you hung up the phone.

I can still hear the way you say "okay, well cool man."

It fucking sucks

You aren't just the third client I have had that has died

You are a person and I won't forget you

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

God dammit. Just found out one of my clients OD and didn't make it while I was on my vacation. I talked to him the day before I left. He was going to come into my office today with his new guitar. There is nothing more shitty than listening to a voicemail of a mother crying about her son passing away.

I cried at my desk.

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

I'm sitting inside a queer coffee shop/record store waiting for my two coworkers to show up so we can talk about how to work around our boss.

I've been here once before. They play good music and always remember your drink. I've been in a toxic work environment once before. Bureaucracy. Contracts. Hierarchy telling marginalized people to use the services created by them that they deem worthy to work. Gatekeeping.

I miss making coffee. There was a science to it. Almost dancing or performing. Twists and turns. Sliding and squatting. People and their stories. I still see my regulars in the community. I like the connection and I am grateful.

[ohwaitwhatdamn]

10 more days till I'm free from my boss for 12 days. 12 glorious days of not hearing toxic positivity. Many, many miles between us.

Fuck, yes.