Polluted and Toxic

I am POLLUTED.

A couple weeks ago, I had a conversation with the counselor of the treatment program I supervise. She is a sixty-two year old Japanese woman, and nearly everything she says sounds like some fantastic snippet of ancient wisdom.

She said, "I worry about our souls. Our spirits. We are surrounded by people so, so sick. I wonder, what does this do to us? This is my biggest concern."

I attempted to convince her, and myself, that I didn't worry about this. But I do. There is no question about it.

I am POLLUTED.

I am TOXIC.

The stories. Oh, the stories. The countless, disturbing stories. All social norms indicate repeating them is inappropriate. But I do. I have to. So I just perpetuate the "Ick Factor," I spread that disgusted, disturbed feeling by relaying the content of my days.

Last week, Kimberly and I were going through laundry and something fell from a pocket of a pair of my work pants. This is never a good thing. It was a photograph of a little girl around three years old. She is the sister and victim of one of my residents. I confiscated the picture, which is protocol when someone in the photo is a victim, on my way out the door. I didn't have time to go back to my office, so the picture found itself into my pocket, forgotten, and eventually into my home.

Seeing this picture just sitting there on my dresser, in my home made me sick. Explaining to my wife, when she asked what it was, made me sick.

She is very strong and understanding, but Kimberly had every right to feel sick herself. And she, along with everyone else, has a right to feel sick each evening when I answer the question "How was your day?"

I am TOXIC.

God is still providing me with new and different ways to purify, de-toxify myself daily. Recently, it has been very helpful to just seclude myself and spend time with Him. I've been taking walks alone and listening to worship music the past couple days. Even when I haven't felt like it, I've forced myself. I seem to feel a peace after a good "quarantine" and time with God, which makes me believe even more that my co-worker is right. I should be concerned about my soul. Otherwise, no treatment would be needed.

So what do you think? I want some outside perspectives. Being around great people seems to lift our spirits, and sometimes even make us better people just being around them. What about sick people? What do they do to the spirit of those around them?