I woke up from a nap thinking about frittata, so I made one. I didn’t use a recipe, either.
Finished my ethics paper. I’ll lose a couple points for being three hours late, but it’s done. Then I decided I was way over thinking my policy assignment and finished it, too. I may lose points on that one for not complicating things enough. Sigh. I have no firm idea what the woman wants.
Because first my train was late, and then it stopped on the tracks for a bit. I arrived in class just as the professor was ready to collect these, but she told me to go ahead and fill it out quickly. Then she acted surprised when I gave it back lickety-split. “I didn’t mean that quickly,” she said. Lady, that’s just how I roll.
Now that’s not as conceited as it sounds. Over the course of 18 years of testing I’ve learned that I either know the answers or I don’t, and very rarely will stewing over an exam raise my score.
I’m amazed that she graded these over break and gave them right back to us. Pretty flippin’ sweet.
There were two of them and one of me. That’s a group. Yes, there was art involved.
I’ve been here since 9am. I’ll be here until 9pm. By the time I add I the commute it’s a 15 hour day. I’m exhausted. Three (almost) down, eleven to go.
Given an unexpected random Friday at home (mostly) alone, I will clean the kitchen, do three loads of laundry, epilate my entire body (that hurt worse than I remembered), give myself a mani, AND a pedi, and write an actual blog post. I’ll also play a lot of computer games. What I won’t do, apparently, is homework or play catch-up. And I think I am okay with that– it’s been an interesting week.
You know how sometimes, two events happen in temporal proximity, and that’s the only thing that connects them? My supervisor has mentioned, twice now, that I don’t seem as invested in my residents as I used to be. And I know this to be true. Now she says, and I agree, that I am still doing good social work. It’s more than adequate. But some of the joy of interacting has slipped away. I’m trying to say….I used to go looking for my people just because I had a few minutes. But lately, I’ve been making sure I see them before I have to write a report, or because it’s time, and not…not just walking down the hall and popping in to see how things are going. Like I used to do, right?
So I’m thinking. I’m thinking about when that changed. And why. And it started changing the day my favorite died. Which happened to also be the day I had a significant and unpleasant shift in my personal life. Two unrelated things. But I think I must have tied them together in my heart and head, because…I know my own behavior patterns. When faced with professional pain, I throw myself right back into other clients. But my tendency, when personally confused or hurt, is to withdraw from both physical and emotional contact. I’m pleased to say that I did not withdraw physically this time, so that’s better. But emotionally? Probably. From everyone? Yeah, mostly.
So now, the challenge is to put myself back out there. I need to say…okay, time has passed, the gaping hole has closed to a small scab, and let’s get on with loving people. Because that is what I do. It is the absolute basis of my practice. It is what moves me from a good social worker to an outstanding social worker. And I am not bragging. I just know that’s my strength. It’s not in writing reports, or generating notes. There I am adequate. But in allowing a client to bask in unconditional positive regard? To smile at them with my mouth AND my eyes? That’s where I’ve got it going on. And they can’t bask if I keep my unconditional positive regard locked up with me in my office. I have to take that out to the floor. Again.
I started yesterday. I took my art supplies, which I basically haven’t touched since I wrapped up my art therapy class, and sat in the dining room with a couple of folks and we just chatted it up while they made art. I made a small piece based on a comment one of them made. It felt good. Both the relaxed visiting, and the art making. I should do that again on Tuesday.
In the long run, I need to learn how to not take home to work. My undergrad experiences went a long way toward teaching me not to take my clients home with me. I guess the grad lesson will go the other way. That’s an important skill in a profession that requires therapeutic use of the self.
In case you didn’t notice, this is a pep talk. From me, to me. Sometimes I have to do that.
This, my friends, is a deep fried chicken breast. With hot sauce. And a Pepsi. This is my reward for allowing Wednesday to continue to even be on my calendar. Occasionally, it is served with fried okra, and then it is even better. Why is Wednesday so bad it needs a special treat just to be tolerated? Let me ‘splain, Lucy.
On Wednesdays, I don’t go to my regular internship. On Wednesdays, I go to my alternate rotation, which is at an out patient clinic. I make phone calls to veterans I have never seen in order to follow up on messages that they have left on my task manager’s phone about issues they are having. These issues vary widely: housing, health, meals, transportation, mobility (which is actually a combination of health and transportation, but isn’t actually either one). Sometimes, we can help using established VA programs. Often, there is nothing the VA can do about what they need, and if that is the case, I am tasked with identifying community resources for which they may qualify. Now, I am a good googler, and an outside the box thinker, so this job is getting easier. But. It’s phone work. With people I don’t know. And I dislike the phone. People are so hard to understand when I can’t see their lips and read their facial expressions. It’s harder to get a read on what the issue behind the issue is. Or even if there is an issue behind the issue. Sometimes there isn’t, and the case is as it presents. But there is no way to look someone in the eye over the phone and know that I have heard what they are actually telling me. There is no way for them to look me in the eye and know I’m not hearing what they are meaning/needing to say.
Here’s the other thing about Wednesdays. I have to leave my assignment at 10:30 to catch the shuttle downtown to attend a weekly lunch meeting. I catch the shuttle back at 1, arriving at 1:30. So, I lose half my day to this lunch meeting, which presents information that may or may not apply to me. When it’s good, it’s very good, and when it’s not….well, it isn’t. I guess I should be grateful–it cuts down on my phone time, right? But I actually find it quite frustrating that I have to be mindful of what time it is and choose whether or not I can dig deeper with someone based on how close it is to shuttle time. Or cut them short and tell them I will have to call them back in the afternoon. I can’t just *do my work* as I do on my other field days, taking lunch when it is convenient for me and my clients.
Since I am at the hospital and clinic anyway, I also have any thyroid labs drawn that I need, and pick up scrips, and schedule doc appointments. Therefore, Wednesdays exhaust me. And because they exhaust me, I reward myself with deep fried chicken dipped in hot sauce. And continue to get out of bed each and every Wednesday.
I throw the articles on the floor when I’m done with them. Two down, five to go. Then I can start the actual writing, which should take only an hour or so.