Part 3 — They All Come to You

Being a peer support specialist can be emotionally trying and demanding. You’ll get people with trust issues, people who attempt to manipulate others to get needs met. A good section of them see no point in the program itself; it’s an inconvenience toward a bigger end — usually housing.

What I began to see pretty quickly was that I didn’t really enjoy the paperwork and monitoring. It can often dip into adult babysitting — getting people towels and other bathroom supplies, ensuring people are doing their laundry on the appropriate day, running groups like a therapist but without the clinical training. Lots of quasi-things. Quasi-therapist, quasi-nurse, quasi-resident advisor.

Not to mention by August, plenty of staff were asking whether I was going to apply for higher administrative roles. Obviously, even to others as much as myself, Peer Support Specialist was not where I’d do my best work, even though by staff assessment I was great.

“Before you came on, PM was chaotic; basically unmanageable.”

— Co-worker

“You’re always doing something. They all come to you.”

— Co-worker

I took 1:1 time with residents whenever I could, even when the schedule didn’t call for it. Our Program Director hoped for that from every PSS on staff, but it’s not always possible.

The residents noticed this attention, and in a place like that, trust isn’t handed out easily.

“You’re a blessing; trust and believe that. You’ve helped me in ways you probably don’t even know.”

“You make me feel safer than other staff.”

“Thank you. You’ve given me a lot of wise words. It’s a rare occasion that that happens, but everything you told me has stuck. I’m low-key going to miss this place.”

— Residents

I told that last resident, “It’ll be here. But you don’t have to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Right before she announced she was leaving, the Program Director acknowledged my work: