I am a professional.
I am fluent in both languages. I'm not sure that you're even fluent in English.
I don't need to be told how to do my job. I had to have been pretty clear about what I was doing for my college to grant me a bachelor's degree and my professional organization to grant me national certification.
I'm fairly familiar with mental illness and working in this setting. The past 9 years of working in this setting have seen to that.
I know what I was hired to do, and I know what you were hired to do. Let's not confuse the two, shall we?
Until you know what it is like to be a necessary evil...until you know what it is like to be a walking after-thought...until you have been spoken about in front of your face as though you are an appliance or a chair in the room...
(Here's where my more sensitive readers might want to scroll down, by the way.)
Until you can understand sign and English and work between the two, get the hell out of my face, my business, and my way and let me do my job.
The I Can't Even face. Y'all. How is it that things can go from zero to one hundred so fast when I'm not anywhere near where...
Granted, I have already published all of those books in the Proud Racer and Clobberpaws series about my dogs, but this little baby here is...
#nofilter #goodhairday Yep, that hashtag in the title means what you think it means. But that's not what I want to talk about today....