Facing the Social Anxieties

So I was invited to a work function last week.  A social work function.  With people I hardly know.  At a private residence.  This is scary for me as I prefer to stay in the comfort of my own home surrounded by the people and things that help me feel.....well, comfortable.  But I thought this was important to attend as a team-building activity.  To both feel like I am part of the team as well as let my coworkers know that yes, indeed, I AM part of this team.  So show up I did.

Showing up is half the battle.  Actually, getting myself to show up is the entire battle.  Part of my initial anxiety was a lack of an arrival time so I did not know when other people would be showing up.  Arriving at places (and departing places), especially the more intimate setting of a private residence, causes me great social anxiety.   As a way to help ease that, I decided that I was going to arrive a bit early and monitor the parking situation to try to time my arrival with the arrival of another coworker so that we could walk in together.  

Well, I made it to the home and noticed there were no other cars parked on the street.  Instead of just showing up like a normal person, I decided to circle the block a few times to wait for that elusive coworker.  Now, this is in a neighborhood of well-to-do folks who live in very big and nice homes.  My car does not quite fit in.  It is rusty.  Clunky. Loud. Has kayak racks in the up position on the roof.  In other words, I stood out like a sore thumb driving around the block no less than a dozen times.  Thankfully, the guy digging dirt on the corner seemed to be oblivious each time I drove past him.  

One time, I pulled up across the street from my destination and as I was looking over my shoulder, I drove my car into the curb which caused me to honk my horn.  CLUNK!  HONK!   Horrified, I sped away with sweat dripping down my brow.  I sure hope nobody saw me; but in times of today, most people have cameras and such so maybe I gave someone a good laugh.

My bladder started yelling at me and I had to pee something fierce.  I drove around searching for a perfect spot to relieve myself....only such a spot did not exist.  Alas, just ahead, a porta potty in the yard of a big beautiful home!  As I drove nearer to it, there was a crew of men doing some landscaping work....no way could I bring myself to use that!  It was like the Universe was taunting me.   I held in my urine and went another round. Still no work buddies.

One more time around the block, and frantic texts to my lady for support, and I decided to just go for it.  Still no cars, but I can walk up and alert my hostess that I am here.  Or can I?  I did.  I walked up onto the porch only to turn back around and head back to my car.  Instead of knocking or ringing the door bell, I decided to text her to let her know I arrived.  Before too long, I see her standing on her porch, waving to me to come on in!

So I once again make my way up her walk and got to her door only to find she has a misbehaving dog who I accidentally let loose!  So that made things quite awkward.  Thankfully before she went after her dog, she spontaneously led me to her bathroom where I could pee and breathe.  By the time I exited the bathroom, the dog was back inside and I was a little calmer. 

The gathering was quite nice, but the whole time I was there, I kept thinking how I had to leave.  I gave myself a time limit I wanted to leave by....except I had had a margarita.  That delayed my self imposed exit time.  

Still, somehow I made it there alive and made it out alive.  And now I feel a little bit more a part of this team I have been working with for over a year now.    Plus maybe I built up some muscles for future social events such as this one.  

Flowing

 If you know me, you probably know that I don't always flow too well.  Routine, schedules, and accomplishing tasks are my mission.  Allowing the day to just happen spontaneously, especially where work is concerned, is a bit of a challenge sometimes.  I go into most days with expectations of how I would like to see the day go:  with a clear cut plan.  It gives me a sense of control and predictability.  

This past week, I have found myself "flowing" more.  A planned bike ride date did not go as planned.  But the alternative was so much better than the original idea!  When the agenda changed, the result was adventuring on never before seen roads followed by a stunning trail ride.   Stone bridges, frogs and crawfish, rocks, clear water, and a shaded canopy on a very hot day was our reward.  Alongside us the entire time, flowed a beautiful, babbling brook.  A perfect reminder to go with the flow.  

Another flowing moment this past week involved a party I was super anxious to attend.  One that I had initially declined to attend at all.  But the day of the party arrived, and I decided to baby-step it.  Step one: "Yes, I will drive you to the party, but I am going to drop you off at the end of the driveway and come back home".  Step two:  "I am committed to going to the party just to say Happy Birthday, then I am going back home".  Step three:  "I will stay for 1/2 hour, but probably not any longer than that".  Step four:  All in! Turned out to be a super fun time including meeting new people, laughing, and dancing around a fire.  Breaking out of my comfort zone empowered me by challenging old, avoidant habits.  Sounds kind of silly, but I was proud of myself for allowing the day to unfold naturally.  All I had to do was show up and it just kind of took care of itself.  

Today at work, I flowed some more.   Leading/teaching several groups throughout the day sometimes causes me anxiety.  As a way to curb that anxiety, I like to go in to each group session with a clear cut plan.  Or two.  Its wise to have a Plan A and a Plan B so that if one is not going well, the other can be the savior.  Sometimes, I have even rehearsed what I want to say or how I want the group to go.  Today, I did none of that.  After having been off for a while and not knowing the kids too well, I decided to just see what happens.  No plan A, no plan B.  In fact, I had no plans at all.  And guess what?  All was just fine.  Fun even.  Sometimes the greatest lessons  happen during those unplanned moments where conversations and experiences happen naturally.   Both for the kids, and for myself.  Yes, flowing.  

One more example is this here post.  I didn't really want to blog tonight because the topics I have planned out  are either not inspiring for me or require a bit too much brain power that I don't have access to at the moment.  So, I just started to write and here I am flowing again.  I have even had to  suspend my own judgement on my writing and on my posts so that I am able to flow once again.  Tonight, I am writing, flowing, and seeing what happens. 

Don't get me wrong, there is a time and a place for planning.   Though, when I  remember to just let life happen, it feels good, and good things seem to happen.  It isn't always perfect nor do I expect it to be.   Within the imperfect parts of life there exists a beauty that would otherwise go unseen, adventures that would otherwise go un-experienced, and lessons that would otherwise go unlearned.  

For now, I shall relish in the contentment that comes with allowing life to unfold on its own terms.  

Peace.  

 

Magic

We all have those days at our respective jobs where we want to pull our hair out, scream, and perhaps even quit.  Then we have those days that remind us why we do what we do, especially those of us in the social services area of work.

Today was one of those latter days.  The kind that makes your heart swell and eyes well.  A day of pure magic.

The past few days, I have been working with 6 middle school kids who are pretty resistant to being in the day program in which I work.  Resistant to being there in the first place bubbles over into small battles over seemingly simple things....like going to group, cleaning up their lunch plates, being respectful to one another.

Change in our predictable schedule also becomes a struggle and today was the monster of all changes for this group.  Today, our schedule included a field trip to a therapeutic horse ranch.  On Monday (two days prior to "the horses", as we affectionately refer to our experience), five of the six kids were adamant that they were not going to go.  So adamant was one kiddo that he had a 2 hour rage at home because his anxiety was overwhelming, and he thought by throwing this fit, he would be able to avoid this potentially uncomfortable experience.  Another gal insisted she would not even come to the treatment program that day and most certainly she was not going to the horses.

 The two days leading up to the field trip, we attempted to coach the kids in skills, calm their anxieties, and encourage them in all sorts of ways.  Sometimes our attempts bred anger, and most certainly none of the hesitant ones were sold on going.  We still had one very uncompromising gal and one very uncompromising boy.

Then today happened.  I was surprised to see all six faces arrive at the program today.  Our rigid gal was unusually quiet and withdrawn in the morning, and I was a bit concerned she would refuse to leave the building when the time came to head up to the horses.  But the time came, and she hopped in the van no problem.

We arrive at the horse arena and went to observe the horses.  The kids mindfully observe the various horses, and when they feel a connection, they raise their hand to claim which one they want to work beside.  Our hyperactive, socially awkward boy surprisingly waiting last to pick his horse allowing all the other kids to have their first choices.  His buddy ended up being the most vocal and energetic of all the horses, just as this kid was the most vocal and energetic of our bunch of kiddos.  All kids picked their horses and approached them very cautiously, even our most resolute boy and gal.

They each brushed their majestic beauties, cleaned their hooves, and got to practice leading them around the arena.  Building confidence and conquering fears all the while.  Bright smiles on our most hardened kids.

Toward the end of our time, the kids got to ride their new found friend.  Our uncompromising boy?  Yes, he rode around the arena with the brightest smile I have seen from him.  Not only that, but he encouraged the others to do the same, even the other boy who irritated him during their time together in the program.

Our uncompromising gal?  She, too, wore a bright smile as she rode Shiloh.  By the end of it, she was hugging her horse saying she did not want to leave and requested to have her picture taken. Perhaps even a tear was shed as she said goodbye.

This experience was beyond anything I have ever experienced.  The connection between horse and human was something I had never seen.  I'm still unsure if the animal matched the energy of the kid, or if the kid chose the animal because of shared characteristics.  Maybe a little of both.  Whatever it was, only one word can explain it.  Magic.

When Life Imitates Bob Villa

For months, maybe years, I have been asking my brother to help me do a few things around my house. Things that I most surely can't do by myself.  Things that require "a man".  Being a non enthusiastic brother, his answer was always, "Yes, one of these days".

Well, one of these days came.  My brother did not.

Not sure how it came over me, but one morning I woke up, went downstairs just to see how easy it would be to rip up the carpeting in my basement.  It took some elbow grease, but I pried up the metal thingy that holds the carpet to the floor on the seams.  Once that was up, the rest was not so bad.

Ever try ripping up carpet with cats "helping"?  Not an easy task!
There is Muffin, one of my trusty helpers.

This is the best "before" picture I have.  This is midway through the carpet removal with half of the carpet still visible and attached.  Carpet is quite heavy so I had to cut it in half in order to haul it up the stairs and out the door.  By myself.

In the corners, underneath the carpet was rather damp and moldy.  Spiders scurried from time to time.  And cats were really good at getting underfoot.  But I did it.  By myself.  Do you also see that large closet in the corner?  Yup.  I moved that too.  By myself.

After researching how to apply epoxy flooring, I started the daunting task of scraping up the old paint on my basement floor to prep it properly so that epoxy would adhere.

Scraping sucked!  I scraped most of this floor with a putty knife.  It was overwhelming at first, and I am not going to lie.  After the first day of scraping, I called "a man" to finish the job for me.  He was unavailable and had also never applied epoxy before.  So I did it.  By myself.

Scraping became an obsession.  Peeling paint was so pleasurable.  Any little piece of sticking up paint just called my name and once I started to peel, I could. not. stop.  I lost sleep so that I could peel.  It was great.  but it was NeVerEnDinG so I finally had to just tell myself enough was enough or I would still be down there peeling up that paint.

Next came sanding whatever paint was left on the floor.  I used a handheld electric sander and did wear all the appropriate safety gear....

....Except there should have been a warning on the safety goggles.

I gave myself a black eye after poking myself in the eye with the goggles!  Bob Villa would not be proud.

Then came power washing and acid etching the floor, which I did accomplish with a borrowed wet/dry vacuum.  The above photo is the only injury I sustained despite pouring acid on the floor while wearing capri pants, no socks, and open toed sandals.  Bob Villa would most certainly be appalled at my lack of safety measures.  However, I was beaming with pride because I did it by myself.

Once all of that was done and dried, the floor was ready for the fun part.  Painting!

Half way done!

And because when you start one project, more are sure to follow.  So I decided to give my downstairs bathroom a make over as well.  Below are some before and after photos.

 

And my final project turned out great.  In the beginning I didn't care if I screwed up royally because, well, its my house and also because its just the basement.  Now I have a very clean, mold resistant floor.  It still needs some decorating , but for now, THIS is my new and improved basement:

When I was describing all of this to my aunt, she said to me, "Honey, you need a man".  And I proudly proclaimed, "Who needs a man?!?  I did this All. By. Myself!"

Thank you, Mr. Stranger

Dragging myself out of bed to head to work each day has been a bit of struggle for me recently.  Thoughts of calling in sick, or just giving up completely and going on welfare, are at the forefront of my mind. 

Not really.

However, we have all had those days where heading into work has been more painful than having your eyeballs poked out with a fork.  On those such days I am ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS reminded of a random fellow whose path crossed mine more than ten years ago. 

A stranger.

Someone whose name I know not.  Someone whose face I know not.  If our paths have crossed since that initial meeting, I am not aware of it.  This stranger with whom I had only one encounter has literally changed my way of thinking.  Forever.  Our conversation resonates in my mind more than any other conversation I have had with anyone, ever.  Lately, I am reminded of this on an almost daily basis.

It happened when I worked as a cashier at Target some 15 or so years ago.  I was grumpy having to be at work instead of enjoying the rare, most perfect Duluth summer day.  Beautiful.  Warm.  Sunny. 

As a cashier, we were encouraged to "schmooze" with our "guests" and they sometimes schmoozed with us.   Usually this small talk revolved around the weather since Duluthians find the weather one of the most interesting of topics.   A gentleman entered my line and bought some small item.  I greeted him in the usual manner.  He mentioned what a nice day it was outside.  This comment was difficult to hear when I would have rather been outside enjoying it than working inside at a cash register.  Our conversation went something like this:

Me:  Hello.

He:  Hi.  What a nice day we are having outside today!

Me:  Yeah, I wish I was out enjoying it rather than working today.

He:  I was just thinking I wish I had a job to go to today.

With that, he just walked away.  His head hanging just a little lower than when he first entered my line.  I watched him walk away, and was forever changed by one simple sentence.

That moment and those words impacted me in ways that he will never know.  I think of him often and wonder what his circumstances were, what he is doing now, and if he enjoys going to his job each day if he has one.

Whenever I get grumpy about having to go to work, I immediately think of him and grow a little more thankful that I GET to go to work. 

More than that, though, I am reminded how our words and actions, even in our simple, everyday interactions can have an impact on one another.  For better and for worse.  How many people are out there thinking about a conversation that I had with them?  Have I changed their lives like this stranger changed mine? 

Thank you, Mr. Stranger, for continual reminders to be thankful for what I have, and for illustrating so perfectly how powerful words can be.

My 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon

I have been told I resemble a variety of celebrities:  Meg Ryan.  Nancy Kerrigan.  Leah Remini.  Leona Lewis.  None of them resemble one another, and I really don't see my likeness to any of them.  However, all are pretty favorable to be compared to, so I am not complaining.

The other day at work, a teenager, who happens to have asperbergs, informed me that I look like Jon Bon Jovi....only in female form.  At first I was insulted to be compared to a male 12 years my senior, but then I googled him.

And had to admit, that I could see the resemblance.  We both have piercing blue eyes, kinda shaggy dishwater color hair, and an angular face.  Mine minus the facial five o'clock shadow (I hope!).   In fact, I can see myself in Jon Bon Jovi more than I can see myself in Meg, Nancy, Leona, or Leah.

(And, a strange aside here, if I ever was blessed enough to have a baby girl, her name would most likely be "Jovie".)

Now how does this all connect to Kevin Bacon, you may ask.  Bear with me.  It has been said that all people can be traced back to Kevin Bacon within 6 degrees, and I found my 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon......kinda.

1.  I have always thought my brother, back before he got into drugs, resembled Kevin Bacon.
2.  I have always mixed up Kevin Bacon and Jon Bon Jovi and can't really tell them apart.
3.  The teenager told me I looked like Jon Bon Jovi.  Since I get him mixed up with Kevin Bacon, I must also look like Kevin Bacon
4.  Since I obviously resemble my brother, who happens to resemble Kevin, it stands to reason that, I too, must resemble Kevin on some level.
5.  The teenager later said that I also looked like Kevin Bacon

Blue eyes, shaggy dishwater hair, angular face.  

So, there you have, my "connection" with Kevin Bacon in only 5 degrees.

It could always be worse, though, a patient once told a staff member that she (the staff member) reminded that patient of Sponge-Bob.  The patient was blind.  Like, for real, she was blind.

Starting a New Job

I really want to blog, but have no ideas what to write about.  I could write about how Tino has become too smart for his own good.  (He has finally learned how to escape.  He is almost in the same league as Houdini.  Though it allows him to make some new neighborhood friends, it about gives me a heart attack just thinking about the "what ifs".  If he gets much smarter, he may just ruin the privilege of going out in the outdoor cat area, for him and for the others.) 

Even though I already kinda blogged about that, I don't want to write an entire blog entry about my cats yet again. 

When cats don't make good blog fodder, I guess that leaves work.  In the last 13 plus years I have been at work, never has there been this much upheaval and change.  Change is certain, necessary, and anxiety producing.  Especially for me.  Change scares me.  It forces me to come outside of my comfort zone.  I have created a nice little, sheltered box for myself and to venture outside of that box is much like an agoraphobic exiting their house for the first time.  I feel like I can't breath; my tummy turns flip;, I want to run away back inside never to emerge again. 

But without change, there is no growth.  Growing and learning is fun and exiting!  It keeps work interesting, and these changes have the potential to help me do my job even better.  In the meantime, I feel like I am starting over at a new job.  And maybe, I won't be as good at my new job as I was at my old one. 

After Hours "Rafting"

How many people are lucky enough to have a job that allows them to go Rafting at 10:30 at night (and get paid for it).  Don't tell my boss, but I am in that fortunate group of folks. "Rafting", you ask? "That's right", say I.  Rafting... or dancing... or kick ball... or mending shark tanks... or exercising reflexes on the ever intimidating Reflex Ridge. 

The Unit just acquired an XBox Kinect, and I'm not sure who has been enjoying it more:  the kids or the staff. 

Once all the children are nestled all snug in their beds, the staff come together for the best hour of the work day.  Its a great team building and bonding time for us.  We get to genuinely laugh and experience fun all the while getting paid.  Not to mention burning off all the stress eating calories consumed throughout the course of a shift.  Of course our fun is interrupted every 15 minutes to check on the kids ensuring there is no hanky panky going on (but as we know, those tricky teenagers can perform hanky panky under blankets during a movie with staff right in front them :) )

The real benefit of that final hour of the night is not solely for fun and laughs.  Its a time to let go of all the sad stories we are immersed in each and every day.  A time to escape the world of suicide, acting out, and self injury. Instead of bringing home all the pain, we are able to leave it on the River Rapids or at Reflex Ridge. 

That XBox is a built in therapy "necessary" for both the patients and the staff.  One I intend to take full advantage of.  Just don't tell my boss.

Jesus Gets Another Kitty (and Other Short Stories From Behind the Locked Door)

A few years ago, a coworker with a dark sense of humor retired.  Her dream following retirement was to write a short book and title it "Jesus Gets Another Kitty" since so many of the kids we see have maimed so many kittens.  Its not uncommon to hear about how a kid nuked a cat in the microwave or have otherwise tortured the poor souls. 

When this coworker retired, I had a crazy notion to help her get started on her book, and I had a head full of ideas about some of the illustrations.  My problem:  I can't draw.  Therefore, I enlisted the help of my friend, Amy, to draw the ideas that were circulating in my head.  She captured them purrfectly.....uh, perfectly. 

Enjoy the visual experience of Jesus Gets Another Kitty (title by Annie, Ideas by me, illustrations by Amy).......

The Cover.  Here we see Jesus with his new unfortunate feline......

Our proud hellion nuking the poor cat.....

The precocious unsuspecting cutie sending the cat off to space.....

The emo teenager just giving the pussy a ride.....

In the end, the cat gets revenge.... 

What I Did for Week 3 of my Vacation/Staycation

Only one more day of bliss.  One more day to do whatever whenever however.  No time table to keep to, no alarm to wake to, no kids to strap down on a bed.  I was blessed to have very good weather for the duration of my vacation and I certainly made the most of each day. 

Week 3 was a little more of the same, but the following is the remainder of the list of what I Did on My Summer Vacation:

1. I totally forgot to mention on my first list that I mastered the technique of peeing in the woods.  I'll spare you the details, but I successfully tinkled several times without splashing pee all over myself.
2. See #1 above....I peed on Park Point today....
3. I got some Mom Time in which is always a blessing
4. I mourned the loss of my 80's bangs, but grew to embrace and enjoy my side sweepers.
5. Walked bare foot on the beach.
6. Sat on a rock overlooking the city contemplating how little grasshoppers look like tiny robots.
7. Snuggled with Tino on the chillier mornings under the blankies.
8. Part way winterized my garden
9. Appreciated each and every second and gave thanks for the sunshine.
10. Mentally prepared for the return to work.
11. Plucked 235,123 grey hairs from my head....man oh man, they popped out like whoa recently
12. Finished yet another book.  Ahhhh.

It went so fast, and now I can look forward to having days off.  I keep having to remind myself that just because I head back to work, doesn't mean that I will never a day off again.  Back to the Salt Mines I go.......

What I did for Week 2 of My Vacation/Staycation

I am now officially beyond the halfway point on my vacation.  Less than a week left and I have to return to work.  The only bad thing about being on vacation is that it makes it that much more difficult to return.  Well, here is a list of my second week of vacation activities:

1. I called 911.  Yup, on my neighbors who were having a domestic dispute.  However, the real motive for the call was to phone up my friend who could give me the play-by-play from her 5-0 radio (police calls).  It was pretty uneventful.....
2. I officially entered the 21st century.  Though I am still getting used to my new do, I am growing fonder of it by the day.
3. I got big girl underwear.  Or rather, as it was clarified to me, I got teenager underwear.  I had been wearing "Old Lady Undies" AKA Hanes Her Way (though the bikini style if you must know), but now I am wearing novelty panties which I LOVE!  What is better than having a pair of panties with a ruffle or cute saying on the butt?  I tell ya, I love my new undies.  Probably the best thing I did on my vacation sad as that may be ;)
4. I played some Super Mario World.  I get into those games, sweat, and get pretty worked up.  Its so fun!
5. I rode my bike.  I haven't been on my bicycle for many many years, but a nice 10 minute bike ride might just awaken that desire.
6. I have been brushing my teeth with a new SoniCare toothbrush.  Fun and so clean.
7. I stepped out of my comfort zone hard core and went out on the town with the ladies for a bachelorette party.  Good times in a Hummer Limo, more drinks than I have had in years, and belly laughs galore!
8. I painted my nails!
9. I went on a spending splurge and bought new clothes and a few accessories.
10. Not once did I inquire how work was going, though information was offered to me unsolicited. 
11. Went to the movie "The Help" which was an excellent and powerful film.  It takes a lot to make me cry in a movie, and this one started the waterworks on more than one occasion, but then it pushed the funny button and had me laughing.
12. Helped out a friend a few different times while she struggled with some family health issues.
13. Spent the day at the beach!  One of my main goals was to spend the day at the beach.  Too bad the water was too frigid to actually go in for too long.  In fact, I could only go in while "high stepping" (running quickly with high knees).  And even then, my calves and feet began to get numb.
14. Continued to obsess over Words With Friends.

And that pretty much wraps up my second week of vacation.  I wouldn't want to have spent it any other way!

Tooting My Own Horn

Not often do I write much about my job, but today I am going to.  After a potentially horrible night last night, I left work feeling amazingly refreshed and validated. 

First, for some background.  The night before last night was hell.  I wasn't there, but the report on all the kids was not good.  There was a yelling match in the hall that could have let to a fist fight.  There was a seclusion and there were 2 episodes of restraining kids.  One of whom stayed in restraints throughout the entire night.  Beyond that, the potential of several of the other kids to "go off" is quite high as well. 

So report, where we get our assignments for the evening, was stressful and uncertain.  We were starting out our shift being two staff short and another staff working only from 3-7 and this staff had never even worked on our floor before, so basically we were 3 staff short.  Our charge nurse was in charge of the whole unit, passed out medications, was answering phones, and would have had to deal with any admits had we not been able to divert them elsewhere.  Two other coworkers were assigned 1:1 patients so their primary duty was making sure their patients stayed in control.  That left me with the daunting task of making sure the evening programming and patient care went as smoothly as possible.

In addition to that, I had 4 patients assigned to me, but it really was more like 7 since the other staff left at 7:00.  This was a heavy load even on a regular day, but this is my assignment on a double.  Actually it was my eighth shift in only five days.  The night could not have gone more smoothly.  Teamwork was a must, and its nights like this that I appreciate every single person I work with.  The kids were pretty decent overall and groups went without a hitch.  I must say that throwing in a movie out of laziness and using the excuse of being short staffed did cross my mind, but I didn't even do that.  In fact, I did a group involving scissors which is always a gamble when working with teens who cut.

By the end of the night I felt good about my group topic (anxiety/panic attacks), my group project (collage), and my patience when dealing with all of the soul sucking kids we have on the unit right now. 

Then the coolest thing happened.

At the end of the night, the teenagers said some very validating things to me.  One said, "You know what I like about it here?  I like that we feel cared about". 

Another said, "Yeah, and how do you work so much and still stay perky and happy?  How come you aren't crabby?"

And another said, "You work a lot.  You must like your job if you are here so much".

It was so validating that the very people I work so hard for took notice.  Not always do the patients take notice of  how much I really do enjoy it.  Its nights like this that I remember why I do what I do and it makes one whole week of hell all worth it.

Dreaded Responsibility

I totally should have went to work today, on this, my day off.  My day off which also happens to be Memorial Day.  Memorial Day which happens to be holiday pay at work (double time and a half!), and which also happens to be crappy weather.  Rainy, foggy, cold, and windy.  Work called me on two occasions to go into work today and I avoided their phone calls both times despite the fact that I was on the call-in list. 

Instead, I went to bed last night at 9 PM and woke up this morning after 9 AM. Actually I awoke much earlier, but once I heard the thunder, saw the wind and rain, I snuggled up more snugly in my bed and went back to sleep until I don't know when.  I used to be a morning person, but lately, I am becoming more of a later morning person.

Once I awoke, that is, once I physically got out of bed, I ventured into the living room and turned on the TV where I sat for another few hours.  Snuggled in with my bathrobe and pink blankie.  Old movies from the 80's prove to be the perfect rainy day past time.

After I actually combed my hair and got dressed, (and by "dressed" I mean in a sweatshirt and sweatpants.  Putting on a bra was questionable, but on it went), I drove to my mom's where I ate a nice Memorial Day lunch and beat her in 3 out of 4 games of Scrabble. 

All the while with visions of dollar signs
going
       down
               the drain
 inside my head.

All the while with guilty feelings as the "not-doing-anything-on-my-day-off" syndrome kicks in.

All the while dreading returning to work tomorrow.

Still, laying in bed listening to the thunder and rain with Tino snuggled up underneath the covers is worth every down the drain dollar sign.  In fact, I loved it so much, I wish that I could do it again tomorrow.  Enter that big adult word of Responsibility.  Already this year I have used up more sick days than in my entire 13 year career at this job.  And its not even June.  So calling in is kind of out of the question as I would just sit home, do nothing, and worry about having called in.  So in to work I will go. 

Sometimes I hate responsibility.

Really, I'm not a snob

Nearly 20 years have passed since I graduated from high school.  Since then, I have kept in touch with a very select few, and they are about the only ones I remember.  Not that I am a snob or anything; I just have a memory problem.  And, frankly, high school wasn't that memorable. 

Lately though, I have run into a few past classmates.  I know this only because they brought it to my attention,  "hey, I went to high school with you" they pronounce.  "Uh, what's your name" says I.  Its very uncomfortable.  Usually after they reveal their name, I still can't place them. 

To make an awkward situation even more awkward (did you ever notice that the spelling of the word "awkward" is awkward in and of itself?), I have been having run ins with past classmates at my job.  For the average Joe, it probably wouldn't be a huge deal to run into an old acquaintance at your place of employment, but I work in a children's mental health hospital.  Children and teens are admitted for things like suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, or acting out behaviors.  Whatever the case, its a matter of crisis. 

Once a parent informs me that we were classmates, I find it odd to utter the obligatory, "how are you" since their response could very well be:  "Oh, little Bobby here just microwaved our cat, then grabbed a knife and started stabbing his little brother with it while my boyfriend was passed out drunk on the couch and I was in the bedroom with the neighbor shooting up some heroin".  So I am not sure what my etiquette should be in this situation.

And don't forget, I don't remember them.  And they usually know it so I already come across as stuck up, and here I am in a position of potentially giving them advice on how to effectively give their own child a time out. 

At least I must not have changed all that much if they still recognize me after nearly 20 years.  Of course, I AM still wearing the same hairstyle........

Measures of Success

Today I had the privilege of taking the teens I work with outside after lunch.  Working in a locked inpatient setting prevents us from taking the kids outside to burn off some energy or reap the benefits of Vitamin D from the sun.  However, today I was working with the outpatient population so we ventured outside for a little basketball action. 

One would think bringing six suicidal teenagers out on a makeshift basketball court that doubles as a roof above our parking ramp is contradictory if not dangerous.  We haven't lost a kid yet.  A few basketballs, yes, but all of our kids are accounted for.

Watching them run around, laugh, and have fun today brought me back to my own childhood just for a moment.  Running and jumping used to be so effortless, and now it comes with great effort and a little bit of pain.  I pined for the ability to run, chase after a ball, and not need to sit and recover before I made a basket.  And still have energy to finish out the day as though I didn't exert myself at all.  Now, going for a low key, hour long walk is enough to wear me out for the rest of the day.

Something about supervising suicidal teenagers-on-a-roof also made me realize how innocent childhood should be and how, for the kids I work with, it isn't.  Running and laughing for these kids is sometimes as difficult for them as it is for me.  Their depression and circumstance prevents them from having the ability to experience that sense of innocence that should be mandatory for all kids. Watching them, for just a moment, put aside their adult size problems, be a regular kid, and have genuine fun, brought joy to my over exerted, fast beating heart.

At the end of the day, I didn't lose any basketballs or any teenagers.  And that, my friends, is a successful day on the job.

The Code of Dressing for the Job.

To get a good understanding of where I work, I am posting a link to a friend's blog who has captured our job perfectly.  Each one of our kids have the potential to act out towards themselves, others patients, or staff; generally speaking, though, our kids exhibit fair self control, and are able to keep these urges and thoughts at bay....at least while they are in our care.  Basically, on a day to day basis, I am not worried that I will get hurt or attacked.  Once in a while the milieu is such that there is an element of fear, and there have been times that staff has got hurt.  Really hurt.   

Because of the unpredictability of my job, some days it takes a bit of creative thinking to get ready for work.  By this I mean the clothes I decide to wear on any particular day.  Most people, when they get ready to go to work, toss on their clothes and go. Whether it be your "uniform" or your "work clothes", you likely don't give it much thought, get dressed, and head out the door to your job. For me, getting ready for work sometimes requires a little more thought process. 

We are discouraged from wearing a hoodie, or any article of clothing, with strings hanging around the neck just in case some kid with no impulse control, and a desire to hurt staff, decides to take those dangling strings and wrap them around your neck.  Same goes for dangling earrings.  Not that you would get choked by earrings, but having your ear lobes ripped would not feel so great.  Those dangling, shiny ornaments are fishing lures for an ADHD kid, and I don't think I want to catch one of those on the other end of the line.

Size can play a factor in compliance or authority with some of us shorter staff members.  Often the teens we work with are taller and bigger than us.  So a pair of boots with heels may add to the appearance of "I'm bigger than you.  Do what I say."  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.  And right now we have Pinchy McPincherton (not his real name, confidentiality you know) on the unit who likes to grab and pinch any arm or appendage that nears him.  Layers Layers Layers.  The more layers in between your skin and his pinchy grab, the better.

We have been instructed to not show "butts, boobs or bellies" and that sounds like a reasonable dress code requirement.  Sometimes, though, we are wrestling around with an out of control patient and we end up seeing glimpses of our coworker's thongs, bras or belly rings just by being in the various positions we need to be in while getting the out of control person back in control.  If I know this scenario could be a possibility that day, I will do the bending test in the mirror.  You know, lean forward towards the mirror in order to see what others will see when I am bent over at work.  Undershirts/tank tops are key when the "girls" have a high likelyhood of making an appearance. 

Most days, its just another day on the job.  Still, when I put my shoes on my feet, I wonder if they will be subjected to urine that some acting out kid intentionally peed on the floor.

Words

The last few days I have spent creating words from a mish mash of letters.  Word Twist on Facebook is a favorite pastime, but nothing beats the feel of the wooden tiles in my hand.  My mom and I have been playing Scrabble for hours on end the last few days.  It is so much fun!  (Mostly its fun because I win the majority of the time).  No electronic gizmos to help make the words, add up the points, or magically make new letter tiles appear.  Plus, its quality time with my favorite person.  Is it really that pathetic that I spent my Friday night playing an old-lady game with my mom?  I think not.

What is pathetic is that I refused to let two ladies with dementia have a fighting chance of winning when I played with them.  My Scrabble fetish was reawakened when I had to work with two dementia patients on the dreaded 4th floor.  They were very sweet ladies and we had ourselves a nice little game of Scrabble.  You would think that playing Scrabble with two dementia ladies would be annoying to say the least.  Not so.  The one lady was kicking my ass, and she played the game with the expertise of an experienced Scrabble player!  I'll be damned if I'll let an 89 year old lady with dementia beat my sorry ass in Scrabble.  I had to pull out my competitive tricks, and I actually did end up beating those two ladies.  Not sure what would have been more embarrassing to admit:  That the ladies kicked my ass or that I kicked theirs.

Anyway, it was me who did the ass kicking.  And I'm not too embarrassed to admit it.

Safety Quiz

Below is just a glimpse into the brain of the kinds of kids I work with.  This particular patient was given the assignment from his school to complete a Safety Quiz for a few common household objects.  You or I would have much different responses.  A full commentary is not necessary for the quiz speaks for itself.

Blessed

Merry Christmas!  I mean that sincerely this year.  Most years when I am scheduled to work, the phrase becomes, "Merry Fucking Christmas", but this year it sincerely is a Merry one.

Even though I was scheduled to work the entire Christmas holiday from the two days prior, the days of, and three days post, I had a very enjoyable and fulfilling holiday.  We only have two kids at work on Christmas, which is both a good thing and a bad thing.  Two kids is better than ten meaning that most kids were home with their families where they belong.  Two kids could also lead to the dreaded floating to other floors or the blessed getting a no-pay-day.  Neither of which happened for me which meant I got to remain on the unit, with the kids I know so well, and with coworkers who are my second family.

My personal family celebrations went fine and dandy.  Some usual family drama, but a generally uneventful gathering.  For me, this year, my favorite time was spent at work and watching the two kids open up their gifts with sincere excitement and appreciation was so....fulfilling.

One little girl is 7 years old, wears the badge of abuse on her forehead by the hands of her own mother, and is in the process of being removed from her family.  The other patient is a 17 year old boy who still believes in Santa Claus and will not be returning home to his alcoholic mother after discharge.  Both opened up their meager gifts with such gusto and innocence.  As the little girl was putting on her costume jewelry and tiara, she looked up to the empty air and said, "Merry Christmas, Mama".  The three of us staff who witnessed this scene exchanged sympathetic glances at one another and quietly wiped the tears forming in our eyes.

Yes, this year I felt very fortunate to be at work.  Very fortunate to be a part of what was an otherwise unfortunate Christmas for those kids.  Very fortunate I could help make it a little more special and memorable for them.  Very fortunate indeed.

Bitchin' Immunity

Is it so wrong for me to be jealous of my friend's who are home sick?  (And by that I mean those who are home from work sick, not those who are missing their home.)  I want to be sick too, dammit!  Only, I want to be sick on My Terms.  Translated, that means, "sick on my days to go to work".  That way I can call in legitimately ill, lay on the couch (or bed) all day, and rest.  Oh, yeah, and get paid for it.  Since my sick hours are once again maxed out, I am not earning any more sick time. 

Friday I spent almost 12 hours with a now-sick-friend.  Most of which were spent in a tightly enclosed space; my car.  We shared the same air almost all day long and sucked on the same beverage straw.  After she informed me she was getting ill, I secretly hoped I would get ill too.  It just doesn't happen.

Kind of like when I was a kid and my mom exposed me to all the neighborhood kids who acquired chicken pox.  I never caught them, and have yet to experience the chicken pox.  Thankfully I have the vaccine now, because adult chicken pox could be deadly.

I better be careful what I wish for.  I could end up with adult chicken pox on my days off.  That would totally suck.  Instead, I'll settle for a stuffy nose on a work day, thank you very much.