Hannah Whiting

Girl Not Interrupted

A little over a year ago, I took a job working in mental health as a program technician, even though my dad did not encourage working in this field with my anxiety. Dads great though, he’s super supportive. He's worked in recovery for years as a case manager. He just received his legacy reward for his 10-year dedication to the field-we really don't know how I managed to get this fucked up. I had a lot of great interactions with the clients working in recovery. We would sing, go hiking, go thrift shopping per my request. I would sit and talk to them for hours, whatever they really needed throughout the day I was there to fill the void. I watched prescription after prescription being thrown out at every client like candy. I had a therapist pull me to the side one time upon arriving to shift to tell me to be careful with new client-let's call this client Suzie. Be careful with Suzie, she's diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. Do not trust her, she will build you up to tear you down. Do not tell this client anything personal. Little did she know while she was outside labeling a client, I haven't even had a chance to meet for myself yet she was speaking to one. A BPD.