I had to quit
No, not my job. My volunteer gig. I signed up late last year to be a peer mentor. I went through a day's training, and I was told I would be matched up with a child in need of some additional guidance.
I was first told I would meet my mentee in late December. It's now mid-March, and I still haven't met her. Apparently the mom is being obstructionist. And I have to think, if it's taken me three months and I still haven't met her, what's going to happen when I'm finally matched up with her? The mom is going to make it impossible for me to meet with her on a regular basis, for whatever reason. So after having a heart-to-heart with M (I think I just really needed to hear him tell me it was OK to say no), we decided I would bow out gracefully, as they say. So I shot over an email today to the program directors, telling them to call me if they had anything else or wanted to discuss it. The good ol' Catholic guilt is setting in, but I feel like a weight has been lifted. I mean, it's been months and months of almost weekly phone calls: "This week, I'm thinking you'll be able to meet her." Then nothing. There's something funny going on here, and I don't want to be part of it. I feel bad for this child, because apparently she wants a peer mentor. But I can't do battle in yet another area of my life. Volunteering is supposed to be rewarding, and I don't think this is going to be good for me -- it bears resemblance to beating one's head against the wall, at this point.
And OK, but stop it with the snow. I mean, come on. M is sleeping on the floor next to me as I type, worn out from snowblowing not only our driveway, but the lady who lives next door with the broken snowblower. She rang the bell and asked us for help. My God, but this winter, I've felt like a hermit. It's been so cold and disgusting and snowy that we've been hibernating. Someday spring will come. You can bank on it.
I was first told I would meet my mentee in late December. It's now mid-March, and I still haven't met her. Apparently the mom is being obstructionist. And I have to think, if it's taken me three months and I still haven't met her, what's going to happen when I'm finally matched up with her? The mom is going to make it impossible for me to meet with her on a regular basis, for whatever reason. So after having a heart-to-heart with M (I think I just really needed to hear him tell me it was OK to say no), we decided I would bow out gracefully, as they say. So I shot over an email today to the program directors, telling them to call me if they had anything else or wanted to discuss it. The good ol' Catholic guilt is setting in, but I feel like a weight has been lifted. I mean, it's been months and months of almost weekly phone calls: "This week, I'm thinking you'll be able to meet her." Then nothing. There's something funny going on here, and I don't want to be part of it. I feel bad for this child, because apparently she wants a peer mentor. But I can't do battle in yet another area of my life. Volunteering is supposed to be rewarding, and I don't think this is going to be good for me -- it bears resemblance to beating one's head against the wall, at this point.
And OK, but stop it with the snow. I mean, come on. M is sleeping on the floor next to me as I type, worn out from snowblowing not only our driveway, but the lady who lives next door with the broken snowblower. She rang the bell and asked us for help. My God, but this winter, I've felt like a hermit. It's been so cold and disgusting and snowy that we've been hibernating. Someday spring will come. You can bank on it.
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