I love using song titles for my posts. It was gonna be ” Oops I Did It Again” by Britney Spears, but I just couldn’t go there. Besides, this Dr. John classic discusses time and lately I am all about time!
So why this song? I find myself dumbfounded by my inability to hold onto anything lately. I am so glad to have another birthday and get on with it. At least then I gain another year.
So where was the right place? Bryn Mawr College. Oh how I loved it there. I made amazing friends, was reignited with passion for my career, and learned so much about how to serve. My degree is Master of Social Service. It is unlike the typical Master of Social Work title. Bryn Mawr is distinguished in a myriad of ways, but in this case it distinguished itself by substituting service for work. It did make a world of difference. So I graduate and pass my licensing exam on the first try. Woohoo I am a licensed professional. I honestly would not have wanted to go anywhere else. I was accepted also at Penn, but I made the wise choice.
When was the wrong time? 1996. Now, there is nothing wrong with 1996. It was a perfectly fine year. This has to do with Pennsylvania state law. Just a couple of years after I become licensed, the stated decides to add another level of licensure. In order to practice therapy and get insurance reimbursement for services, you now have to get another license and get documented hours of supervision. Then you can take another exam and so on…
When I first heard about this, I was stunned. ” Are you kidding me?” However, I doubt that this recent situation could have been predicted or avoided. I have been working as a therapist for years and already have a license for doing something I did in the 1980s with just a Master’s Degree in Psychology. No license required then. Then was the right time.
So I was lucky enough to be grandfathered in when I wanted to return to work as a therapist. Cool, I thought. I liked my group practice and figured I would work there after I retired. Well, the owner sold the practice not long ago and I was less than pleased. The new regime was not to my liking ( putting it mildly), so I left. Little did I know this decision would come back to bite me now.
I discovered a few weeks ago that once I left my practice and exited the network, I cannot return without the LCSW. Do you think I was told about this? No. How about when I contacted the credentialing entity to notify them of my status? What was I told when I asked about resuming my practice? I was told that I would just reapply when I join another group. That was all. Not a word about my license.
This morning I heard that my appeal was denied. It is so tempting to say, okay I am going to remain retired. I could assume this is a sign that I am to remain on this couch with a new cat at a to be determined time. However I realize that it is not so simple. Those types of conclusions are erroneous. To be absolutely frank, I do not think licenses are necessary. Passing an exam does not make one a clinician. Many professionals are licensed and are anything but professional. What about driver’s licenses? How many licensed drivers should be off the road? Get my point.
So where is the spiritual part of this post? I could start a new blog for rants if I wanted. Well, for starters, writing is my therapy and I don’t need a license to blog ( yet!). Secondly, I know that such a twist of fate is somehow for my evolution. It was so perfectly orchestrated. I do not know how this will be for my betterment, but throwing a tantrum will not suffice. It is all about acceptance and forgiveness. It boils down to me forgiving myself for not being able to fix the unfixable. It is also about permitting myself to grieve the loss of autonomy that my credentialed status allowed me to enjoy. It is all about reinvention and loving the aspects of myself that are prone to self-doubt and defeatism. For the astrologers, let’s call it Pisces South Node. Victim central. I will not allow myself to live in Victim Central.
People make decisions regularly without all of the facts. Even HSPs who are highly intuitive don’t know everything. Who knew? Not me.
It happens. Shit happens. It and shit rhymes. I am losing it a little now. Won’t be the first time. But it is the right time.
To recap: Bryn Mawr good, 1996 bad.
Humor me: If you have been in a similar situation, do tell.
image credit, wikipedia.org