Which, I suppose I am. I'm trying to reflect and self-evaluate, to decide if it's time for me to leave corrections.
Don't get me wrong, I love my work...the people I work with, not so much.
The past couple of weeks have been - well, "stressful" is an understatement. I came into this profession feeling like I could do something positive, that I would be helping people in some small way. Now, it all feels useless. Pointless. Hopeless.
It's strange...I can handle anything the offenders throw at me (which can be quite literal, at times), but I'm finding there are other aspects that I really cannot take anymore.
I knew that it was going to happen someday. Everyone told me it would, so I was prepared. I always do what I'm supposed to, check my dorm every half hour, make sure everyone's well. It happened anyway. A man took his own life. I did what I was supposed to, what was right; I called for help when I determined that he was indeed unresponsive. But it was too late.
I can handle death. I can handle having to come to work and pass by the cell. I can even handle the stabbing sorrow every time it plays out in my head.