This is a peronal victory. Why? Well, as usual, there’s a story…
I am a person sustaining recovery who has a graduate degree in Counseling, obtained prior to losing so much of who I am to opioid dependence. I got my M.Ed. in Counseling in 2006, right before beginning a decade of declining mental illness and increasing dependence on substances that would almost end my life multiple times.
During a TDO for psychosis related to opioid withdrawal in 2017, I was asked by the attending doc what I did for a living. I replied that I was a mental health therapist hoping to get a fresh start and achieve my LPC credentials. The doctor laughed at me and said I’d NEVER work in the behavioral health profession again. Three years and a lot of recovery and healing later, I became a Peer Recovery Specialist as a way to get back some of what I considered my life’s purpose in the healing arts.
I am so proud to be a member of the Peer Workforce today. I have long considered myself a Peer first and at times, even glossed over my educational history. My inner narrative remains fueled by what that doc said years ago, that I will never be enough. I am not licensed and not valid, I’m too focused on mutuality and empathy to be clinical, yet I’m not “peer” enough by sheer virtue of a framed piece of paper. Yet lots of awesome CPRSs hold the ultimate goal of becoming CSACs or licensed clinicians. Apparently, being a Peer Professional is somehow still “less than” and not only to me (but that’s a post for another day).
Soon after entering the CSB world, I saw how vast the divide is between clinical/treatment and recovery/peer support. This started my wheels turning. “Am I a Peer or am I a clinician? There is absolutely no way I could be both, right? Wait… could I be both?” Then I began organically trying to build relationships on both professional sides along with integrating both sides of myself. Through this process of increasing understanding, bridging the divide, and creating authentic connection, I discovered that both sides do actually value the other and view us as spokes in a wheel. The one thing that keeps us separated is money, specifically Medicaid reimbursement rates. That’s where we learn to put a value on our own professional worth and that’s where even the most confident of Peers are reminded of our discounted worth in the behavioral health system.
I kept dreaming of my ideal role, one that combined all parts of me. Last month, I found it and I am thrilled to be in a position currently where I am valued for my education in all its forms: from both Longwood and the University of Life. Even today, I longed for a way to leverage my book knowledge in a way that would bring value to my agency and wondered if I could ever actually bill for clinical services.
This new inclusion for educated recovery professionals who are not licensed is great news for not only me, but also for the strained behavioral health workforce. We do have value and are ready to help.
This week, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) released a new guidance that makes more behavioral health providers eligible for enhanced Medicaid dollars, including master’s level social workers and marriage and family therapists. https://bit.ly/4a4Ivqc
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8moGood point, Scott. I value the work CBOs do, and I come from social care, but CBOs must evolve to meet the new realities. And I include organizational culture in this. Some of the reticence to engage CBOs involves the self-conception that the good work is an unquestionable (and sometimes unmeasurable) given. This is simply not the case. We must understand the impact of non-clinical programs in quantifiable terms. There is immense potential there to improve lives and reduce costs.