Flashback Friday--Christmas Sing

The first Sunday afternoon of every December, the local community comes together for a Christmas Sing at the local field house.  The free event encompasses the old, young, rich, and poor, the community groups, the local bands, the school choirs, and a hand bell performance.  I have grown to admire the dedication of this event and to admire the 80-plus years of art appreciation right next door to my high school.

On a random note, I realized that I actually became friends later on with some of my neighbors from a different school.

Movin' on in

I discovered only a week ago I had to move out of my house because of circumstances beyond my control.  My transient life only continues.  So, like a girl, I cried and cried some more.  Then I set to work.  I packed, moved, unpacked, and organized almost all of my possessions by myself.*  I moved 70% in three days by myself.  Like a champ.  While working.  And taking an online class.  And renting a storage unit.  And going on a long run with friends.  And attending a baby shower.  And attending a play.  And going to church.  P.S.  This is a great way to elicit pity.  All I have to say to people is "I am in the middle of moving" and they start groaning for me.  It is kind of a great excuse for anything that goes wrong.  "I am sorry I am late; I am in the middle of moving and had to search for pieces of my outfit in six different boxes."  Cue look of pity.  (True story.)  The key is to use it sparingly to just get enough pity to get away with brain farts and the awkward space in conversations.

I am currently living with my parents, which has been more of a source of conflict than of internal conflict.  It is a beautiful moment of being home for the holidays.  My gratitude list could go on and on, but since it is almost 11pm, Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I still have to go to my storage unit, I will make it concise.

940.  Having parents who were willing to take me in, no questions asked.
941.  My parents having a house big enough for me to move in.
942.  Getting a storage unit for $40/mth.  Just like I prayed for.  With zero negotiations.  Just like I prayed for.
943. The storage unit is right behind my parents' house.
944.  Ordering the right size storage unit.  (Because moving everything would have sucked like the Tootsie Pop owl on the commercials.*)
945.  Getting just the right amount of boxes in just a few stores.  (Hello, Walmart at 1am.)  I was at the right place at the right time for a reason.  And it wasn't my brain functioning.
946.  Having a vehicle big enough to haul bunches of stuff in a few trips.
947.  The way the entire experience is making me rethink my ability to prioritize and purge items.
948.  Focus.  (Because that doesn't occur naturally.)
949.  Cheap gas.
950.  My parents' minivan.
951.  McDonald's coupons.
952.  Built in exercise.  Who needs the gym?
953.  Contributing several things to my parents' household.
954.  Having friends to give me clarity in the situation.  Because sometimes I am blind to my own life.
955.  Reaching out to a group of people and receiving an overwhelming response of love.
956.  Being offered a room.
957.  Being offered closet space.
958.  Being offered hugs and encouragement when I need it most.
959.  Being offered manual labor to help move.  (I took her up on it.)
960.  Moving in right before my mom's procedure.
961.  Being able to settle in right before the holidays.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  I hope the season brings comfort and joy and the pleasures of food and company.


*(I did attempt to convince my family to help me unpack.  My mom told me she would rather have a root canal.)

*I also realized after watching this video that the owl does not actually suck the sucker.  So there goes that metaphor.

Flashback Friday

I know it's a day late, but since this is the week of Thanksgiving, I thought I would include some of my favorite holiday memories.  

I will miss holidays at my grandparents' house (even if I was pitching a fit).

I will be grateful for this day

Life has dumped out and poured all over me lately.  The brazen move to go to part time has caused a great sense of freedom and at times insecurity.  None more than this week.  I have to move out of my house.  ASAP.  No firm plans for a house, but I trust God will provide.  I have spent a significant portion of the day crying.  The culmination of grieving the holidays with ailing grandparents and a complete change in my life was just too much.  I finally broke.  But a significant support system and time on my knees helps.  Geez, I am blessed.

Coincidentally, the other day, before my eviction notice, I had a run where my emotions broke.  I completely fell down when I stepped off a curb.  It caught me by surprise and made me suddenly start wallowing.  Life had just seemed hard enough.  Something inside me said "I made you a fighter, not a whiner."  The ruminations stopped and I started focusing on what I could change.


This week hasn't been all bad.  So here it is:

932.  Baby showers.  Particularly the impromptu one I attended tonight.  In less than twelve hours, my friends receive notice of a baby being born and adopted it.  The waiting, the stress, the timing.  It all came together in one crazy week.  I am so happy for them.

933.  That I got my homework assignments done on time for my online class.

934.  Working with a lots of great, cooperative people who are willing to teach and train me.

935.  Wi Fi.  What's Dial Up?

936.  Having dinner with friends who let me love on their kid and attempt to help me with the computer.

937.  Having awesome parents.  'Nough said.

938.  Inadvertently heaping coals on someone's head.

939.  Knowing my place in a rocky transition.

What good is a tornado?

Plenty, it turns out.

You see, I have had this strong nudging to study for my GRE.  So I did.  A little.  A very little.  Then I came to the math.  It made my head spin.  So I stopped.  Other things (like changing jobs) got in the way of studying and I put it on the back burner.

Then along came a tornado warning.  I had just finished a run when the sirens went off.  I know, it doesn't seem safe to run around a tree lined path with a bunch of waving branches and high winds, but hey, it got done and I was safe.

I clearly was not supposed to go to Cincinnati today.

So impending storm sent me to the bathroom.  With my GRE book.  And my phone.  This is how far I got after the storm (notice the blank piece of paper).

I finally started reading and realized I was a lot math dumber than I had thought.  (I am a social worker for a reason.)  So I watched Khan Academy.  A few hours of it.  The rusty cogs started turning and I got the equations (which made me feel very satisfied), but I hit my breaking point and ended up on the floor.  I whined.  I wanted to punch things.  Then I broke out the icing.  This may be the first time in my life to do this.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Flashback Friday--the minivan

In honor of the 30th anniversary of the minivan (see details here:  http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2013/11/04/242957361/pop-in-a-cassette-and-celebrate-chryslers-minivans-are-30) , I asked my family what their favorite memories of our minivans were.

I will start with mine.  I think our trip out west was a true test of my parents' patience.  Two and a half weeks in a minivan across the country with three girls will grind on a patron saints' nerves, but we survived and Kristen lost her first tooth.

Megan aided this process on our scourge through Wyoming.  The best angle was directly on top of the victim, wiggling that stubborn tooth vigorously.  The tooth fairy's visit proved its value.

 

The minivan has been a source of naps, fights, and transportation to menial everyday things.

A sedan couldn't have cut it for running between gymnastics, grocery shopping, and church.

After scouring the albums, I also figured out that we had a few wild donkeys invade our van in South Dakota.

 

 

 

 My cousin Landon's favorite memory?  When my dad was whipping around the Gatlinburg Mountains and his grandpa was rolling his eyes while saying "whoa there Merrill."  They were on their way to golf.  

My mom and sister both said that they loved the family vacations in the van.  We packed the car top carrier so full, it was a miracle it didn't pop open more than once.  (That was another story.)

My dad's favorite memory?  When my sister slammed his hand in the door.  I slammed her hand in the door.  It was a cycle of abuse.

My parents still own a minivan.  We are all grown and there aren't any grandchildren, but the minivan has helped us move (time and time again), take countless trips to Ohio, Florida, Illinois, and just about anywhere we travel, and seems to be really handy when transporting the latest supply of seasonal clothing and groceries from momma to the kid who is still in school.

Oh minivan, how we love you so.

Settling into the season of chilly

As the snow settles like crystalized powder on the leaves and winter quickly descends Indiana in mid-November, I had begun to feel my spirits sink.  So I decided to embrace it.  Not fight it.  I slapped on some reflective gear and headed toward the promised land (a small town nearby with safe roads) and just ran.  Probably 11 miles.  In the icy rain and snow.  And it didn't bother me a bit.  I was relieved, actually.  Happy, really.  I was so joyful to be out running, thinking, and absorbing the experience that I forgot how nasty it was.  (The only reminder was the swirling precipitation near the streetlights.)  I finished, albeit a little late at night, wet and dehydrated, and just smiled.  Then I went grocery shopping.

The next day, nothing could rain on my parade.

And so, I have realized, it is time to stop being a baby and just learn to be smart.  This winter is not going to hinder my exercise habits...for the sanity of us all.

924.  Having the experience of running outside in nasty weather.
925.  Having the time to do that.
926.  Having a few moderately safe places to run.
927.  Late fall bike rides.
928.  The changing of seasons (it is beautiful).

929.  Learning how to screenshot.
930.  Having friends who text me back.
931.  Having the opportunities to see them, even when they don't live nearby (or in state).

Reflections from the week

917.  Beauty in architecture.

918. My bathroom model

919.  Girls who were smart enough to come up with a way to protect heads without sacrificing a hairstyle or looking like a mushroom.  See here:  http://jalopnik.com/swedes-develop-invisible-bike-helmet-1460189477/@jasontorch?utm_campaign=socialflow_jalopnik_facebook&utm_source=jalopnik_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow

Invisible helmets?  Genius!

920.  When my students act like old ladies for a pretend therapy group I am running.

921.  When my students come to me with problems I attempt to help fix.

922.  Getting honest feedback from my students about the college.

923.  Realizing that I know a lot of social workers with bad boundaries and telling my class about what not to do.

Chicago/Oak Park

We took a trip to Oak Park this weekend to visit my sister for her birthday.  Although I slowed people down, I think that the pictures were well worth a few moans. :)

907.  I am very grateful that I got this shot...in the park just at the right time in the afternoon.

908.  I am grateful to have parents who are still married and like each other.

909.  Beautiful fall afternoons

910.  That most of the leaves are still on the trees

911.  City parks

912.  Beauty in death

913.  Old buildings

914.  That my sister is in a great relationship

915.  That they visit each other often, despite the distance.

916.  That I got to be part of this.

Flashback Friday--Kristen's Birthday

Happy 23rd birthday (today) to my little sister.  I love you more than words can say.  Can't wait to see you this weekend.  And you can eat cake your way.  (We won't force your face into it.)

Mental health from the mental healthcare worker

With another shooting in America, the focus always turns back inevitably to mental health.  I have remained mum on this topic, because there are so many things I have yet to learn and I know that my view does not encompass entire field.

Most people working in mental health won't tell you how hard it really is.  You have to be present, listen well, empathize, confront, carefully construct questions in such a way not to offend, but to push people beyond their boundaries of comfort...to change.  Most people in mental health leave the day feeling emotionally drained.  It is hard, it is difficult, it is sometimes rewarding.  I have several people who tell me that they don't know how I do what I do and assume that there must be some intrinsic motivation, such as the inherent part feedback from helping people, that allow for them to feel as if the pain was all worth it.  However, there are many more things that motivate people toward mental health.  Sometimes it is because they have an unhealthy need to be needed.  Whatever the reason, it's not the money.  Counseling may cost an arm and a leg out of pocket, but it is not something that will make people rich.  I know bachelor's level mental health workers who still receive government assistance and master's level clinicians who still make under the national average for a household income.  The paperwork is very, very cumbersome and, like most other healthcare fields, has restricted the use of government funds for the use of healthcare costs.  There are some mental health diagnoses that are not considered severe enough to receive services beyond office-based counseling.  Autism is not even considered to be a mental illness, and therefore, anyone with this disorder is unable to receive purely mental health services (there must be a present mental illness as well).  Mental health agencies are burdened with the demand for their services and are combined with the mass exodus of retirees.  How will they keep up with the demand for more services?

Mental healthcare has to have a top priority in legislation to make it easier to do the services, have more incentives for working in the field, and have better incentives to eradicate the stigma.  I still work with doctors and nurses who make derogatory comments about the mentally ill.  There is a ginormous book of diagnoses that would allow for any right-minded person to begin to question their own mental illness.  And yet, there continues to be a continual discussion for mental health services every time another human or nature inflicted tragedy strikes.  Mental healthcare workers assist with processing what has occurred, are told that they are the key to prevention (which is not always true), and yet are paid a little more per hour than a manager at a grocery store.  Legislation and change is not always easy and takes time, but I had to say all of these things in the interest of defending my field.

Flashback Friday

Happy Halloween, All Saints Day, and Dia de los Muertos.  Enjoy this trifecta of spirits, make up, and scariness with a dose of pep from the leader of the club and her best cheerleader.

We actually still make her wear this.