I go through long periods of time wherein I have the urge to write but can't come up with interesting subject matter. Then days like today happen, when multiple topics and or incidents occur which are worthy of blog exploration. The problem is, if I don't write about them immediately, the mundaneness of every day life tasks will whisk me away and the topics will never be explored via the published blog post. For that reason, I will offer today's multitude of worthy moments and thoughts in a bullet format with the purpose of keeping the post at a readable length and covering all relevant topics.
-I was listening to NPR today and the discussion of the Military's "Don't ask don't tell" policy was discussed. This is not a subject which is on the forefront of my mind because, luckily, this prejudiced governmental policy has little to no effect on my every day life. I can't honestly believe that in this day in age, with civil rights struggles that have been battled by people for generations, when our children are encouraged to play shooting games wherein they commit murder and crimes, adults who have consensual sex with adults of the same sex cannot choose to defend their country. What's the fear? Seriously? That as the bombs fall they'll turn to a comrade and ask..."Hey wanna get lucky?" Ludicrous. It's such a backwoods policy that has no place in this day and age...it pisses me off.
-My supervisor and I met with two gentlemen today who are retired and want to volunteer some of their time to the kids in our facility. One of them was particularly quirky and didn't appear to have the self assurance that comes with 60 years of life experience, but both were pleasant. They want to join efforts and get a group of our kids together to take photographs relevant to them in some way and then write about them. I'm really excited, think this is a great idea, and hope that we can find some magical funding for cameras.
-My office doubles as an art room and a storage area in addition to housing my desk and computer. It is not a large space and occasionally I get the urge to reorganize. While reorganizing today I found a creation that had been made by a resident and brought it to him. I didn't choose my words carefully when I presented him with the piece, stating that I had been "cleaning out" my office. He looked at me with this horrified expression and said "Cleaning out your office?! You're leaving?" I was touched that he was so upset at the prospect of my leaving...it made me feel a little special.
-That awful woman with no respect for Islam gets to live. What's this damned world coming to when 7 year olds can name a Teddy Bear Mohammad? Next thing you know they'll name their pet lizard Jesus. Shoulda just be-headed her, would have made the world a better place. Craziness! Are people really this nuts?!
-Made a new friend! Which is pretty exciting considering my best friend of 15 years recently dumped me. 2x4 wrote a great post about our first 'date'...stop by his blog if you have time. It's way more entertaining than mine. Oh, and he doesn't mention it, but, she's a hugger. That'll take some getting used to. She's hug happy...full of love and wants to spread her joy via the warm embrace. It's sweet and doesn't creep me out, it's just not something I'm used to.
There you have it...my bullets post. I'll keep trying to come up with more inspiring material. I guess I'm having a slow start getting back into blogging.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Coffee-My Pickmeup of Choice
I got up early this morning and dragged my exhausted butt to a customer's house to clean. I was so tired and out of it that I broke this thermometer-tube-liquid-with-floating bubbles thing while dusting the picture hanging on the wall above it. It broke on the carpet. And it smelled. And the liquid was not water but some greasy/oily substance which I will likely spend several days attempting to clean out of her really expensive carpet in her really expensive home. Then I spent the rest of my klutzy time there almost breaking everything I touched. Luckily she's a great lady and was totally cool about it, told me not to worry and was very understanding. Nonetheless...I was ready to go home and crawl back into bed, sleep through the day, and start with a do-over tomorrow.
But I couldn't...I have that pesky full time job to go to. So I stopped for coffee, bucked up, and started my do-ever at noon. I was in high spirits, had great groups, a long conversation with my sister (who has been playing a very noble game of phone tag for about 2 weeks now), and left oodles of comments on blogs tonight, perhaps making some new bloggy friends.
And tonight I'm in a great mood. The coffee shakes have passed but I seem to be suffering from a small case of insomnia. I drink coffee so infrequently that a 12oz coffee gives me the shakes and continues to keep me awake 10 hours after being consumed. And...well, it gets my intestines working over time if you know what I mean ;-) Oh, overshare? Sorry. My bad.
Oh, and sorry about the boring "This is how I spent my day" post. I don't generally do that because, frankly, who cares about my mundane day to day existance? But it's caffeine/insomnia induced so try not to hold it against me, k? And did you know..."i before e does except after c" does not apply in caffeine? I didn't. But thanks to blogger's helpful spell checker, I do now!
But I couldn't...I have that pesky full time job to go to. So I stopped for coffee, bucked up, and started my do-ever at noon. I was in high spirits, had great groups, a long conversation with my sister (who has been playing a very noble game of phone tag for about 2 weeks now), and left oodles of comments on blogs tonight, perhaps making some new bloggy friends.
And tonight I'm in a great mood. The coffee shakes have passed but I seem to be suffering from a small case of insomnia. I drink coffee so infrequently that a 12oz coffee gives me the shakes and continues to keep me awake 10 hours after being consumed. And...well, it gets my intestines working over time if you know what I mean ;-) Oh, overshare? Sorry. My bad.
Oh, and sorry about the boring "This is how I spent my day" post. I don't generally do that because, frankly, who cares about my mundane day to day existance? But it's caffeine/insomnia induced so try not to hold it against me, k? And did you know..."i before e does except after c" does not apply in caffeine? I didn't. But thanks to blogger's helpful spell checker, I do now!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Damn Him!
Dumbledore is DEAD?!
And that bastard Snape whom he trusted even when everyone said he was a greasy haired piece of trash KILLED HIM?!
I'm so mad. I don't know if I'm angrier with Snape or J.K. Rowling for making me think that Snape might actually have been a good guy.
Grrrrrr.....
And that bastard Snape whom he trusted even when everyone said he was a greasy haired piece of trash KILLED HIM?!
I'm so mad. I don't know if I'm angrier with Snape or J.K. Rowling for making me think that Snape might actually have been a good guy.
Grrrrrr.....
Friday, November 16, 2007
Forgiveness-An Intricate Chain
He came back from Vietnam a different man than the one who ventured into the war named for a country years before. Those that knew him prior recognized the difference. It wasn't the shrapnel still embedded in various points throughout his body, nor the various physical injuries that made the differences obvious. It was the fact that when his smile appeared (less frequently), the corners of his mouth didn't reach as high, and wasn't reflected in his eyes. There were other differences, subtle as the smile, and some as plain as the yelling at his wife, the cold demeanor that took over without warning.
There were therapeutic groups for people like him, people who had seen horrific scenes of friends and enemies suffering and dieing while they fought for survival, of carnage unspeakable, of the constant awareness that their life could end at any moment, their families receiving that horrible knock on the door. People who couldn't transition back into their previous lives without assistance and understanding from others who shared similar terrifying ordeals. However, years of being a United States Marine, years of enduring mental torture, years of shielding any vulnerability, staying hardened in order to keep alive, left him feeling as though those therapeutic groups were for the soft. He didn't want to be involved in anything that required him to soften, to admit that he wasn't strong enough to survive without help. He couldn't admit to himself that he needed these things, admitting a need for support to others was unthinkable. He truly believed he could heal unassisted, and had every intention of doing so.
His life began spiraling out of control when his wife disappeared while he was at work, taking their two children with her. She left with no warning and with no clue as to her whereabouts, seperating him from his children for weeks before making contact. That period of time was torturous for him, and caused him to withdraw deeper into the hardened shell that had become his shelter from the world. This incident was one more anguish he was forced to endure but would not permit to break him.
Years later he made himself a fresh start. He met a woman who made him happy, who needed and appreciated the strength that emminated from him, the strength that had been years in the making. She accepted him into her home and was happy to have assistance with parenting her young daughter, perhaps too eager to give him control over their lives. Together they had another daughter and he was given another chance at family. It was accepted with little questioning that he chose not to honor or celebrate holidays and birthdays, seperating himself from the mirth others experienced on these occasions. His son and daughter still resided with their mother but he had visitation and tried hard to be an admirable father figure to them despite the limited time they spent together. It was difficult for his son, in whose eyes he hung the moon, to be seperate from his father. As his son grew, his patchwork of emotions towards each parent emerged as demons he would spend years trying to ward off with alcohol and illegal drugs containing escatlating strength and risk. The father/son relationship had ups and downs over the years as the two went back and forth between understanding and alienating each other.
His step-daughter suffered numerous abuses at his hands over the years as his wife turned a blind eye. He had little understanding of why his step-daughter became the outlet for his emotional turmoil. She, in turn, recognized how far reaching the repercusions would be should she expose the happenings within their walls, and chose not to share, fearing her whole world would crumble. She held onto that burden, to the guilt, kept it hidden, protecting her mother and mother's husband from being exposed.
He reached the breaking point after all of his children had grown and left home. After years of working long hours to provide for his family he found himself unable to leave his home, the thought of being around people or venturing out of the haven of his abode left him in a cold sweat, his heart racing; an experience labled by professionals as a "panic attack". His wife struggled to be supportive but it was difficult as his smiles and happiness appeared next to never, making living with him a near constant struggle. Ultimately he sought help from the Veteran's Association, his syndrome was labled PTSD and his family was finally granted an understanding of the odd behaviors he had displayed over the course of their lives. He finally began to see a therapist regularly and took medications aimed at regulating his mood and minimizing panic attacks. However, the years of repressed vulnerability and emotion would not disappear easily, having laid dormant for years, rearing their heads with fury.
Sadly, his step-daughter no longer spoke to him and he, in turn, chose to dismiss her in total. He suffered a great deal of guilt where she was concerned and being around her was a constant reminder of his crimes. It was much easier to view her as the heartless enemy than feel the tightness in his chest that the thought of her invoked in him.
It was tragic that he and his son were in a period of allienation from each other when his son, at 34 years of age, died of a drug overdose. After years in and out of rehab and jail, when everyone thought he had won the fight with his demons, having once again started a business for which he had a great deal of passion, the son succumbed to his demons.
Now, as the Christmas season approaches, as the theme of forgiveness is prevalent in the air, as the family continues to accept and heal after the death mere months before of the son, the step-daughter believes that the time to forgive has come. She has carried the burden and guilt of being the scapegoat of emotional turmoil for the majority of her life. Yet, she sees the human frailty behind the abuser, sees that he too is a victim, she sees that he has suffered for the sins of others, and that she is only one link in chain of hurt, anger, sadness and torture. She sees that in order for the man to forgive himself, he must first be forgiven, and perhaps that forgiveness will spread its way through the chain. That finally he may have some peace, because he is indeed only human, as has suffered enough for several lifetimes. He deserves forgiveness from others, but primarily he deserves forgiveness from himself.
There were therapeutic groups for people like him, people who had seen horrific scenes of friends and enemies suffering and dieing while they fought for survival, of carnage unspeakable, of the constant awareness that their life could end at any moment, their families receiving that horrible knock on the door. People who couldn't transition back into their previous lives without assistance and understanding from others who shared similar terrifying ordeals. However, years of being a United States Marine, years of enduring mental torture, years of shielding any vulnerability, staying hardened in order to keep alive, left him feeling as though those therapeutic groups were for the soft. He didn't want to be involved in anything that required him to soften, to admit that he wasn't strong enough to survive without help. He couldn't admit to himself that he needed these things, admitting a need for support to others was unthinkable. He truly believed he could heal unassisted, and had every intention of doing so.
His life began spiraling out of control when his wife disappeared while he was at work, taking their two children with her. She left with no warning and with no clue as to her whereabouts, seperating him from his children for weeks before making contact. That period of time was torturous for him, and caused him to withdraw deeper into the hardened shell that had become his shelter from the world. This incident was one more anguish he was forced to endure but would not permit to break him.
Years later he made himself a fresh start. He met a woman who made him happy, who needed and appreciated the strength that emminated from him, the strength that had been years in the making. She accepted him into her home and was happy to have assistance with parenting her young daughter, perhaps too eager to give him control over their lives. Together they had another daughter and he was given another chance at family. It was accepted with little questioning that he chose not to honor or celebrate holidays and birthdays, seperating himself from the mirth others experienced on these occasions. His son and daughter still resided with their mother but he had visitation and tried hard to be an admirable father figure to them despite the limited time they spent together. It was difficult for his son, in whose eyes he hung the moon, to be seperate from his father. As his son grew, his patchwork of emotions towards each parent emerged as demons he would spend years trying to ward off with alcohol and illegal drugs containing escatlating strength and risk. The father/son relationship had ups and downs over the years as the two went back and forth between understanding and alienating each other.
His step-daughter suffered numerous abuses at his hands over the years as his wife turned a blind eye. He had little understanding of why his step-daughter became the outlet for his emotional turmoil. She, in turn, recognized how far reaching the repercusions would be should she expose the happenings within their walls, and chose not to share, fearing her whole world would crumble. She held onto that burden, to the guilt, kept it hidden, protecting her mother and mother's husband from being exposed.
He reached the breaking point after all of his children had grown and left home. After years of working long hours to provide for his family he found himself unable to leave his home, the thought of being around people or venturing out of the haven of his abode left him in a cold sweat, his heart racing; an experience labled by professionals as a "panic attack". His wife struggled to be supportive but it was difficult as his smiles and happiness appeared next to never, making living with him a near constant struggle. Ultimately he sought help from the Veteran's Association, his syndrome was labled PTSD and his family was finally granted an understanding of the odd behaviors he had displayed over the course of their lives. He finally began to see a therapist regularly and took medications aimed at regulating his mood and minimizing panic attacks. However, the years of repressed vulnerability and emotion would not disappear easily, having laid dormant for years, rearing their heads with fury.
Sadly, his step-daughter no longer spoke to him and he, in turn, chose to dismiss her in total. He suffered a great deal of guilt where she was concerned and being around her was a constant reminder of his crimes. It was much easier to view her as the heartless enemy than feel the tightness in his chest that the thought of her invoked in him.
It was tragic that he and his son were in a period of allienation from each other when his son, at 34 years of age, died of a drug overdose. After years in and out of rehab and jail, when everyone thought he had won the fight with his demons, having once again started a business for which he had a great deal of passion, the son succumbed to his demons.
Now, as the Christmas season approaches, as the theme of forgiveness is prevalent in the air, as the family continues to accept and heal after the death mere months before of the son, the step-daughter believes that the time to forgive has come. She has carried the burden and guilt of being the scapegoat of emotional turmoil for the majority of her life. Yet, she sees the human frailty behind the abuser, sees that he too is a victim, she sees that he has suffered for the sins of others, and that she is only one link in chain of hurt, anger, sadness and torture. She sees that in order for the man to forgive himself, he must first be forgiven, and perhaps that forgiveness will spread its way through the chain. That finally he may have some peace, because he is indeed only human, as has suffered enough for several lifetimes. He deserves forgiveness from others, but primarily he deserves forgiveness from himself.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I'm Learning How to Lie
Therapists, counselors, and those who work with children in some capacity in a residential setting have a really tricky line they must traverse between being caring/approachable and having bad boundaries wherein they share too much of their personal lives. Personal life sharing is totally inappropriate for a variety of reasons, though, the not sharing is easier said than done. In my art groups there's a lot of talking. The kids talk to each other about he said/she said stuff, things going on with their families, school dilemmas, and your average adolescent drama. Some of these kids are regulars in my group and have therefore become increasingly comfortable around me. With that comfort level comes normal human curiosity about the person with whom you are spending time. So, they've started asking questions. Some of the questions are innocuous and I can answer freely. For instance, Paula, who is fascinated that I'm a vegetarian asks me every time we're together, "What's for dinner tonight?" I of course tell her what I'm having (if that decision has been made) because clearly this is a fun and harmless little connection between us.
However, yesterday I was caught off guard when Julia asked "How long have you been married?" Ugh. I gave an honest response because some of the kids on campus know I got married this past summer. No sense in lying (arrgh! how do you spell that?!). The most professional thing would have been to divert the conversation somehow. But, I'm still figuring out how to say "none of your business" while continuing to be an approachable figure in their lives. "Sure, tell me your woes, share with me your inner demons, poor your heart out to me and let me help you better your life, but my life is off limits." Kind of a mixed message. So I was already stumbling back into a (metaphorical) upright position from the previous stumble when she rapid fired, "Where you ever married before?" Inside my head I'm thinking: "Good God why do you care and how the hell can I tell you that we shouldn't really talk about me because it's poor ethics, and where the heck did this brain freeze come from and why CAN'T I THINK?!" So, I responded, "Ummmmm....no".
So, there you have it. I lied. Bald faced lie. Felt like crap. Kinda still do. Still don't know where I went wrong. I've had supervisors tell me to explain to clients who show an interest in parts of my life that should be off limits: "My role is one of a therapist and I am therefore here to help you work on getting better so we really shouldn't focus on me, let's focus on you" Or something to that effect. Except, these kids see me as 'arts lady' not 'therapist lady' they find me approachable because I'm not like any of the other staff, I stand alone in my own separate and distinct category. So...that spiel doesn't fly. Great. Still don't know what to do next time.
However, yesterday I was caught off guard when Julia asked "How long have you been married?" Ugh. I gave an honest response because some of the kids on campus know I got married this past summer. No sense in lying (arrgh! how do you spell that?!). The most professional thing would have been to divert the conversation somehow. But, I'm still figuring out how to say "none of your business" while continuing to be an approachable figure in their lives. "Sure, tell me your woes, share with me your inner demons, poor your heart out to me and let me help you better your life, but my life is off limits." Kind of a mixed message. So I was already stumbling back into a (metaphorical) upright position from the previous stumble when she rapid fired, "Where you ever married before?" Inside my head I'm thinking: "Good God why do you care and how the hell can I tell you that we shouldn't really talk about me because it's poor ethics, and where the heck did this brain freeze come from and why CAN'T I THINK?!" So, I responded, "Ummmmm....no".
So, there you have it. I lied. Bald faced lie. Felt like crap. Kinda still do. Still don't know where I went wrong. I've had supervisors tell me to explain to clients who show an interest in parts of my life that should be off limits: "My role is one of a therapist and I am therefore here to help you work on getting better so we really shouldn't focus on me, let's focus on you" Or something to that effect. Except, these kids see me as 'arts lady' not 'therapist lady' they find me approachable because I'm not like any of the other staff, I stand alone in my own separate and distinct category. So...that spiel doesn't fly. Great. Still don't know what to do next time.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
How is it Possible to be Exhausted and Unable to Sleep at the Same Time?
My day went like this: Got up and went to the gym. Why did I go to the gym? Because I spent a lot of years being the chubby friend, and all those Halloween inspired snacks are threatening to send me back into fatty town. When discussing what Star Wars character each of the people in the room would be, one of the kids I work with said that I would be C3PO because (and I quote) "You're mad tall and skinny" (Translation for those of you who don't speak inner city adolescent dialect; mad may be translated as extremely) I don't think I have been described as extremely skinny ever before in my entire life. It was hilarious to me. I was beaming.
Then I went and helped my aunt plant and move monstrously large trees. She has a small landscaping business and I help out when she needs the assistance as I could always use the extra money. We spent our time together yanking and pulling trees around that were too big for us to move. But...seeing as we are two pig headed women, neither of us was willing to admit aloud that some large muscles (ahem, like maybe those of an, ahem, man) would be helpful. So we tugged and pulled and I got a bloody nose from a wayward stick up the nostril (hilarity ensued because truly, who else does that sort of thing happen to?) Then it was time for me to head to my full time job.
So...next I traveled to my full time art therapy job and spent the day forcing art therapy down the throats of uninterested adolescents.
Now I'm home, I've had a beer, I've eaten dinner, my body and mind are exhausted...yet I can't sleep. What kind of utter nonsense is that?! And I'm doing it all over again tomorrow! I guess tomorrow will be a large coffee day. (Yes I take cream and sugar, what of it? I like it that way!)
Then I went and helped my aunt plant and move monstrously large trees. She has a small landscaping business and I help out when she needs the assistance as I could always use the extra money. We spent our time together yanking and pulling trees around that were too big for us to move. But...seeing as we are two pig headed women, neither of us was willing to admit aloud that some large muscles (ahem, like maybe those of an, ahem, man) would be helpful. So we tugged and pulled and I got a bloody nose from a wayward stick up the nostril (hilarity ensued because truly, who else does that sort of thing happen to?) Then it was time for me to head to my full time job.
So...next I traveled to my full time art therapy job and spent the day forcing art therapy down the throats of uninterested adolescents.
Now I'm home, I've had a beer, I've eaten dinner, my body and mind are exhausted...yet I can't sleep. What kind of utter nonsense is that?! And I'm doing it all over again tomorrow! I guess tomorrow will be a large coffee day. (Yes I take cream and sugar, what of it? I like it that way!)
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Shut up about Dumbledore Already
I'm a reader, have been for as far back as I can remember. When I was just breaking into the teenage years, and had yet to know everything and hate everyone, my dad used to take me to this great locally owned bookstore (which to this day is one of my favorites) and would tell me to pick out one book. Well, anyone who is an avid reader realizes that narrowing the selection down to one book in a bookstore filled to the brim with shiny new books is virtually impossible. So...I rarely left that store with less than two books. Because, how do you say no to a kid that is begging for books? Poor dad and his wallet never stood a chance.
When I went back to school several years ago my days were so full of classes, commuting, textbook reading, paper writing, and work, that leisurely reading time became damn near non-existent. Since graduating I think I have spent equal amounts of time in the public library and sending out resumes. The library and all of its free loner books is my new favorite place. Some women shop for shoes, I linger at the library reading the back jacket of all the new releases.
When Harry Potter first came out I was one of the gazillions of people on the "Harry Potter Rocks" bandwagon. I love the stories and the amount of imagination that oozes from every page.
J.K. Rowling is a freaking genius in my humble yet very relevant opinion. I was furious when the books were turned into movies since the Harry Potter craze was an "Oh my God my illiterate child is reading this totally cool book series" craze. But, I digress, that's another post...ahem.
Anyway, I got through Book 5 before returning to school. Even as I was reading The Order of the Phoenix in '03 I realized that I needed to start back at Book 1 because I couldn't remember a lot of the back story. Then I went to school and Harry Potter became a distant memory. Now the last book in the series has been released and I have re-embarked on my Hogwarts journey. I'm back up to Book 5 and have been very careful to shield myself from climax ruining information. I shush people who talk about the books, don't read articles, and change the station when anything HP related is the topic of discussion.
Then Yahoo fudged it all up. They had some headline posted about the controversy over Dumbledore's homosexuality that simply could not be ignored.
DAMN IT! How does that fit into the story line? I couldn't care less about Dumbledore's sexuality but now I'm left wondering...was he in love with Tom Riddle before he went all Evil Empire on the wizarding world? Does the ministry have it out for him because they're bigots? I'm trying not to think about it but I can't make this tidbit of knowledge go back in the box. It's out.
So, my request is...give me 3 weeks. I should be done with the whole series by then. Until then Shut up about Dumbledore!
When I went back to school several years ago my days were so full of classes, commuting, textbook reading, paper writing, and work, that leisurely reading time became damn near non-existent. Since graduating I think I have spent equal amounts of time in the public library and sending out resumes. The library and all of its free loner books is my new favorite place. Some women shop for shoes, I linger at the library reading the back jacket of all the new releases.
When Harry Potter first came out I was one of the gazillions of people on the "Harry Potter Rocks" bandwagon. I love the stories and the amount of imagination that oozes from every page.
J.K. Rowling is a freaking genius in my humble yet very relevant opinion. I was furious when the books were turned into movies since the Harry Potter craze was an "Oh my God my illiterate child is reading this totally cool book series" craze. But, I digress, that's another post...ahem.
Anyway, I got through Book 5 before returning to school. Even as I was reading The Order of the Phoenix in '03 I realized that I needed to start back at Book 1 because I couldn't remember a lot of the back story. Then I went to school and Harry Potter became a distant memory. Now the last book in the series has been released and I have re-embarked on my Hogwarts journey. I'm back up to Book 5 and have been very careful to shield myself from climax ruining information. I shush people who talk about the books, don't read articles, and change the station when anything HP related is the topic of discussion.
Then Yahoo fudged it all up. They had some headline posted about the controversy over Dumbledore's homosexuality that simply could not be ignored.
DAMN IT! How does that fit into the story line? I couldn't care less about Dumbledore's sexuality but now I'm left wondering...was he in love with Tom Riddle before he went all Evil Empire on the wizarding world? Does the ministry have it out for him because they're bigots? I'm trying not to think about it but I can't make this tidbit of knowledge go back in the box. It's out.
So, my request is...give me 3 weeks. I should be done with the whole series by then. Until then Shut up about Dumbledore!
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