Might as well start here

After 42 units of a fine graduate education (MFT program) and at the age of damn near 50, I am now ready to begin my practicum placement. Unfortunately, the world does not seem ready for me. In the past two and a half years, I have been turned down from approximately twenty (yes, my friends, that's a big 20) prospective placements. I now work a slightly more than minimum wage job 8 hours a week, which is fine because it doesn't interfere with my SSDI. I am now interviewing for other jobs, because my current one requires all the intelligence of a well trained and properly mannered goose. I am far better trained than a goose. However, it seems, I am not as well mannered. Perhaps an issue.
So, why would I want to be a therapist? (Other than to better understand my own personal drama that, after all, is infinitely entertaining!) It's what I am supposed to do. And frankly, despite all the nonsense now, I am good at it. Seriously good, not bragging. Just stating a fact.
I can get people to tell me anything. I can help you find housing and understand why you lost it the last time. I can calm the paranoid or motivate the apathetic. I can assess for suicidality or case manage bi-polar meth users. What I can't do is look like I am sane on a job interview.
Well, okay, my sanity can be called into question. Truly, I am that damaged. I am 50, have spent years trying to finish school while washing dishes and selling coffee. I have scraped and struggled and fallen any number of times. And like the boxer who has been hit in the head a few too many times, I don't know when it's time to just lie on the floor and stay down for the count. So here I am, pounding nails into the pavement with my forehead.