The nature of my career is such that there is a lot that happens that I really can’t divulge. You know… because of confidentiality.
But there’s so much that happens that I want to write about!
And it tears me up inside.
It was so easy when I worked for the bank. I could write about all the ridiculous things that banking customers would do and say on a daily basis. I mean, it’s not as if I was sharing people’s names or account numbers. I didn’t even tell readers which banking institution I worked for.
But I still felt extremely safe in telling those stories.
These days, I just can’t. The world of mental health is a small one and if my post last week showed me anything, it’s that there’s a real possibility that local readers who know me personally could actually figure out who I might be writing about. Can’t have any of that.
I’m not saying I would return to banking. Ever. For anything. I’m just saying that those stories were abundant.
I mean… stories from my current career are also abundant. But I have to keep them to myself.
This non-story has been brought to you by the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996. HIPAA: When you absolutely can’t talk about it!