People don’t understand what I do…

 I’ve struggled many times to describe what I do for work. And I’ve struggled just as hard to explain how you get there. 

This was especially apparent this week. People love the population I work with but have no idea what I do. What it means. I feel it’s important to illuminate it. 

I am a Peer Support Specialist at the VA. I’m currently credentialed as a Peer Counselor in the state of Washington (the state will be transitioning to a Peer Specialist license with more training and education). What does that mean? 

Peers are people with lived experience with mental health and/or substance abuse challenges. They are successful and involved in their recovery. Those peers working at the VA also have to be veterans. That’s who we are. 

Now to what we do. All peers support people in their recovery. They may run support groups, they do accountability checks. Peers help people access their resources. Peers may work on therapy and recovery skills with people both in group settings and one on one. It’s a highly varied role.

Peers aren’t friends. They’re professionals. They’re held to scopes of practices and standards of cares. We don’t diagnose, we don’t perform therapy. We support people doing those things, both the patient and the provider.

Now this is a role requiring someone to disclose past and current challenges and disabilities. It’s inherently a role that’s diverse and equitable by its very nature. Some may argue that requiring certain life experiences is discriminatory. Yet, those experiences are what allow us to fulfill the role. And in light of executive orders this week I have to take a Saturday and explain why my role exists, how it’s inherently a diversity hire and why it’s necessary.

The first thing a peer does is inspire hope. They model what can be for someone in the depths of addiction or a mental health crisis. They also have an innate empathy and lived experience that allows them to connect to people. There’s an understanding that many other people don’t have, that even providers and therapists may lack. We’re the bridge and support for these people in need.

The thing is that we’re relatively unknown outside of a lot of mental health spaces. Which means that often in explaining what we do requires disclosures of our own recovery and experiences. It openly exposes us to stigma. The very stigmas we hope to confront and challenge. 

That’s the hardest part. Knowing what to share to explain what we do. Knowing how to reveal that we are in recovery. What that means. The need for us. What we needed to get to where we are.

Telling someone you support people in recovery and share your own, that doesn’t mean much to a lot of people. Telling people you made it through addiction and run a group practicing skills for relapse prevention is a lot more descriptive. But also leaves you a lot more vulnerable to stigma and criticism.

I’m proud of what I do. I want to get better. I’m thankful I have the opportunity to learn more evidence based practices. That I have the opportunity to push myself in my recovery. To stay accountable and involved in my my continued healing and growth. 

I’m thankful I get to work with the veteran community. That I can take the knowledge I’ve learned from navigating my own healthcare and benefits and apply it to help people get through it. That I have a shared experience and knowledge base with people. I love being the communicative bridge. I love being the support. And I’m in awe I have this role.

I just don’t know how to describe it to people in two sentences where they understand it.