It's a little hazy

One of my biggest issues with being a counselor is the constant feeling by those in my real life (as in not my job) that I know all the answers or that I’m the best person to talk to in any given difficult situation. I know my profession is not the only one that has a hinky boundary line in people’s heads. However, people don’t expect the cashier at the grocery store to be constantly adding up what items cost in their normal life nor do they expect the administrative assistant to organize their calendar and make phone calls for them. However, I am constantly asked for advice and expected to address anyone in crisis. It doesn't help that people “refer” their friends and loved ones to come talk to me. I imagine that conversation involves the phrase, “You should talk to Denise because she’s a counselor.”

Sitting in my office, I have a switch I turn on in my head. It is my Counselor Switch. When I leave said office, I turn that switch off. It’s very similar to the mechanic who washes their hands after a long day of fixing cars who then walks into their house and hugs and kisses his wife. He is no longer in the let’s-fix-this-car mode. He’s in the this-is-my-family mode.

I struggle because the way I talk to my clients is vastly different than the way I talk to my friends. When I have a friend struggling, I may not be the best person for them to talk to but at that point I am not a counselor. I am simply a friend. An ill-equipped friend at that.

Like I said, I know I’m not the only profession that deals with this hazy boundary. His Royal Nerdness, my husband, gets asked computer questions constantly. I’m sure my nurse practitioner friend gets asked medical questions all the time. Because of my own experience with boundary crossing, I refuse to ask my friend any medical questions. The aforementioned mechanic probably gets tons of friends and acquaintances asking him about car issues.

When I’m not at work or in a counseling room, and I have a friend or acquaintance that wants some counsel, I have to take a moment and turn my switch back on. It’s not as easy as just flipping a switch. Turning that switch on and leaving it on for a while takes energy just like any light fixture that you turn on. It’s draining.

I can only imagine how Jesus felt. If I, as a counselor, am worn out sometimes by the blurred boundaries, then it must stand to reason that The Messiah had to get a bit worn. However, The Messiah is not really a role that one switches on and off.

I still giggle at the idea of Jesus trying to get some sleep and the disciples keep coming up to Him asking Him to turn their water into something more fortifying.