Leaving Chaos Coordinator in the Past – A Therapist Real Life Story

I spent many (many) years working in a hospital doing group, individual, and family therapy, including a solid stretch during COVID. Oh … the stories I have. I’ve solved a lot of problems with nothing but a graham cracker and a jar of glitter. Ever wonder if you could do therapy in a shrek voice or have three people cry on you dressed up as a fairy godmother because it’s costume day? BTDT.

A beloved coworker once gave me one of my favorite gifts: a desk plaque that read “Chaos Coordinator.”

I displayed it proudly on my desk. It made it in the box I took with me when I left. I loved it.
And honestly? I love the version of me who earned it.

But I’m not her anymore.

Where I Am Today – Hospital Therapist to Private Practice Therapist

I’m embracing roles that don’t require juggling 15 balls at once. I’m saying no to demands that exceed my actual capacity unless I’m willing to burn myself out (spoiler: I’m not). When someone tries to manipulate me, I know myself well enough now to stay grounded in reality instead of getting pulled into the chaos.

That said… no one evolves in one dramatic, perfectly regulated leap.

The other night, the big kids were out with their dad. My youngest had fallen asleep in her bed. I took a long, hot shower, the rare, quiet kind that makes you feel like a real adult, an adultier adult. I kept hearing a bump… thud… bump at the bathroom door. I assumed it was my younger rescue dog, Peanut Butter Cup wanting to get inside. My other dog was already locked in the bathroom with me because he was being a menace and she didn’t deserve that.

I finish my skincare routine (because self-care, obviously), open the door, and find this.

So yes, my days as Chaos Coordinator may be ending.
But chaos, unfortunately, did not get the memo.

(Peanut Butter didn’t either)