Online Therapy

I signed up to be an online therapist. I mean, I do a lot of texting as it is, and often it’s good support for my friends. So why not get paid for it? I thought to myself when I saw the ad looking for therapists. Perhaps you can earn enough doing that alone but it’s also income in addition to your “day job.” So I signed up with very little “informed consent” up front, to see what the deal was.

The first thing was to send in a very short questionnaire – do you have a license to practice in your State? Yes. Do you have malpractice insurance? Yes. Okay, I passed the first test. The next business day, which may have been a Monday afternoon, I got the word that I was “moving on in the process.” Okay. I received another questionnaire with more specific information about me, requesting copies of my documents to support my claims of being a therapist. My resume, license, W9, insurance certificate. Stuff I have had handy for the last few months as I set myself up in private practice.

I was asked to join the Platform, aka virtual office, and I would get a trainer. This is App #1. I had to let a few particular people on staff know that I passed my first round of screening. I was told I would need a new headshot – a professional headshot that met their criteria – white background, black and white only, professional dress. Thinking that this was all imminent I ran up to JC Penny and dropped $100 on a headshot even though I really needed a haircut first. By the day’s end, I emailed them my digital copy. And waited.

Then I was told to email the Tech guy about some apps I needed to get a Therapist app, which is not the same as the one clients use. I needed an app to download the app, and an app to generate codes, after scanning the company’s bar code (this is for security and HIPAA compliance). This is now 4 apps. Okay… Now there is the training. These are 25 or so brief and basic reminders of what the therapy should look like and what to say in certain situations as well as some videos. They even have pre written scripts for these situations and staff to refer to if you, say, have a client who is suicidal. Because it is all digital, the corporate staff can locate and reach out to the clients no matter where they live. I did find out that clients are most often referred to someone in their own state or at least in their time zone, to make things a little more convenient.

I then received an email to a link for my criminal background check.

Once assigned to my trainer, I was invited to her training cohort and sent duplicate links to the trainings. The company stresses informed consent with clients, which I found really ironic because I spent weeks having no idea what the pay rate is for therapist or client, or how long the onboarding would take. They would keep sending me emails saying I had one more step before I could start working with clients. This was clearly not the case. Today I had my video/facetime hands on training to be walked through the software. I can now be added to the FIFTH app – the one where I browse clients waiting for an assignment.

I will start with one client – for 7 days, then be assigned another. My trainer will be reading everything I write for the next 30 days to make sure I am not a hack. These clients will only be messaging clients for now. The majority of clients have texting with an occasional video session. I respond twice a day, 5 days a week, as long as I say which days. It’s like taking a 50 minute session and stretching it across 5 days. They’re doing crazy amounts of research at Corporate and there are definite trends. And it is definitely working for people. For me, however, this is uncharted territory. There is money to be made as well, which is really helpful considering it’s just texting and it’s something I know how to do anyway.

I am still waiting for an assignment but the day is coming to an end so perhaps tomorrow someone “easy” will pop up who is right for me to start with, send out all the “right” language and documents to get them going. It’s all about going slow, engaging, validating, “listening,” when it boils down to it. The woman who gets me on the final app said she was first going to check if my headshot was on my profile. Yes, I already saw it. However, last week I did get my hair cut and I wish I had waited. 

Care of the Self

When I was in graduate school, I did a mini thesis for my first research class about the differences between self care in Social Work Students and Business students. I don't remember what my results were. I did a survey; and while administering the survey in the business school, I met a really sweet man from Spain and la la la l'amour l'amour... Anyway, I am pretty sure social workers don't do a good job in general at taking time for themselves.
It's not just about taking time, it's about creating balance. I used to get flack from my boss when I left work at 5 to go down the street to work out at the Brooklyn New York Sports Club. She thought that staying late was a badge of honor. It showed her boss that she was dedicated and... what? There was a schedule of emergency coverage. There was no need to stay late and tick off boxes on a to do list. I always made a point to get the work done in the work hours because I valued my non-work time. I valued working out/staying fit, doing art work, meeting friends for dinner. So if there was nothing that could wait, I left the office. I saw what my then supervisor's life was like and I wanted no part of it. She was engaged with no wedding date set, she smoked, she was out of shape and she stayed at the office til 8PM or later. No, thanks.
Perhaps she saw me as a slacker? I really don't know, and I don't care. I had heard about burn out (this was my first job in Social Work) and I didn't want it. I had enough to worry about. When my father became seriously ill, I used him as the reason I left - and often I did go straight to his home. But after I went to the gym. How I looked after him until he died, worked full time and put myself through graduate school is no mystery - I took care of myself.
So I am a self professed self care junkie. Perhaps that is why I don't really get burned out and I've stayed in the field this long when many of my friends went to other professions (teaching, law, massage therapy). When Pinterest came out - and some of you know this - I was HOOKED. Holy crap now I know why people get addicted to drugs. I had two children and I had stopped making time for creative projects; I could not stop looking at all of the things I wanted to do and all of those creative ideas. I think it was at least 2 years before I could slow down, narrow down my choices (believe me I wanted to try Everything). It opened up a chasm of NEED for me. I needed that outlet. I am a creative person and I needed the inspiration. It led to so many good things for me, creatively and professionally. So poo-poo me all you  like about it. I just didn't realize that I was engaging in self care when I sheepishly had to come clean to a colleague about my online addiction - it had become a bit of an office joke, my constant screen scrolling. Half the time I didn't even see what was on the screen because my brain's "open tabs" where processing at the same time. She said she understood that I do it for "self care," and it not only let me off the hook, it validated me.
I thought Self Care meant getting a facial and a massage, but it's more. It's reading a book for an hour, it's sticking to a routine, it's mopping the floor with music on your headphones. It's making room in your life for the fullness of life. NOT just being a social worker and putting your clients first. And if you have kids? You MUST put them ahead of work, and your spouse needs your smile, your hand squeeze, your listening ears. If you find that you can't appreciate any of these things, it's time to schedule a vacation - even a local one where you explore your own region with a road trip or a family movie night. You must turn off the phone and turn on your attention to what is important in your life. Because if you don't you won't have a 1. job or 2. a life. Either extreme is misery.