Rush

I’m feeling the rush of the season, but I haven’t bothered to set up my tiny fake tree or the Nativity scene yet. There’s a push to meet productivity numbers, always, but more so during the holidays. Every week I aim to bill the state 26 hours regardless of my case load which can be as light as 10 or as high as 21. As an employee, I rely on my supervisor to keep my case load up; she’s to “court” the referral sources. This year with Christmas and New Year’s being on Thursfay, I’m working most of next week. It’ll be the first time in 4 years that I haven’t taken a day off for the winter holidays.

Yet I’m dragging. I’m chilling (literally) on a client’s front stoop, waiting for him/her to arrive. The appointment was at 4pm, it’s now 4:13pm. I need to get this case cleared up, too many loose ends, too many missed appointments. I’m the one waiting on them; I thought they needed therapy. I know one of the reasons our low SES clients are our clients is because they have difficulty functioning in society; their dis-ease impairs their ability to take perspective, to empathize, to realize others effort and know the way to respond to it.  Everyone else has made them wait hours for medical visits, weeks for funds/checks, and years for the American dream.

That said, it’s hard to wake up in the mornings because it’s a damp cold, and the last 4.5 months on a starvation budget have hit their mark. Thankfully, I received a 10% raise, considering the fact I was already functioning 6% below COLA, it’s the extra 4% which makes the difference. I continue to look for work at other agencies though.

I need to hit the hay. I have a client at school at 8am, another at 11am, 1pm and ~4pm. I suppose it sounds nice, but each client is accompanied with at least 30 minutes of street traffic, dealing with school personnel, looking for kids who are tardy/truant/absent. At least tomorrow is Friday. My plans for Saturday: sleep. Because I’m dragging. I want to put things on pause, slow things down a bit.

<rant>I saw a meme on Fb this morning that showed some people guffawing at the idea of single people being tired, compared to people with kids. You could say I don’t have kids. But I work with your kids when your family system has messed them up, when society has messed them up. You might deal with the bedwetting, but I’m the one who listens to the incest, rape, abuse, bullying, loneliness, panic attacks, flashbacks, the bingeing and purging. </rant>
Advertisements

Friendly Snowman

Etsy Shop Link

DSCN6674

Hand-sewn, Hand-quilted.

A friendly Snowman greets all at your door, shovel in hand. It may be cold outside with snow on the ground, but this doesn’t faze him. His nose is bright orange and his hat is floppy; heck, the snow is freezing to his shovel.

DSCN6675

It’s even crystallizing!

DSCN6678

Stipple quilt stitch with echo around star motif higher up along the starry sky.

Silence

I’m thinking about silence itself as an object/presence recently. Immediately in my reaction field is a post I was reading from another blogger here on WP.

In my work as a child and adolescent therapist to some of the poorer children (the poorest live on skid row and I don’t have the stomach to work with that population) of Los Angeles; specifically called SPA 8 (Service Provider Area 8). I’ve had the special privilege of working with different young women, all under the age of 15 years of age who have been raped, sexually assaulted, attempted sexual assault/molestation, and/or sexual harassment. Each one has told me that they considered themselves to be the only one until they confided in a friend, cousin, or aunt near to their age (under 20 years of age); then they tell me, “I told her to tell someone about what she was going through”. Can we just get this over and done with?

Ladies/Girls/Women, let’s just admit that the men in our lives want us to feel alone. They want us to be frightened and feel alone! Yet, the reality is that more women and girls are assaulted, harrassed, abused by people they know than absolute strangers.

And abuse, physical abuse is the same story and I totally want to jump in there with the kid and be like “Yeah, I know!” but I can’t. The therapy hour is totally about them, and I pull myself back inside and be all like “Yeah? Can you tell me about what makes you scared?” or “What’s that like?” I stay on the back-burner and may save my urge to blurt out for my own therapy sessions where I get triggered/reminded of getting hit on the back my head or back with shoes or slippers (and you wonder why the F I hate the color pink or her perfume or being touched at all, least of all being touched or hugged or anything by her); that evening I watched the filled Mayo jar fly by me, missing me by golly-knows-what; choosing dissociation in the closet instead of listening to the litany of Megan’s-fucked-up-as-a-daughter-because.

You know what’s also the same fucking story? (I know, a wanna-be-nun just said the F word. Pick your jaw off the floor, ‘cuz she’s heard and said so much more worse in the past). Getting harassed and bullied at work by your supervisor. I’m taking the fall because I told my supervisor’s boss that she made comments which I considered to be inappropriate. About the 3rd week of September I received information from a client’s caregiver about A/V hallucinations, and my supervisor in the course of consulting with another supervisor, stated “Oh, is this your wife?” My roommate (a co-worker) and her supervisor were in the room. As it was out of context, inappropriate, and I’m generally reserved, I didn’t say a damn thing at the moment.  However I did email my supervisor’s supervisor about her statements, explaining that I felt they were:

Hi [Supervisor’s Supervisor],

I want to make a complaint about a statement [Name redacted to protect the not-so-innocent] made to me yesterday in front of another employee & supervisor. We had gone to the back of the [Location] office to consult with [Roommate’s supervisor] about a cx [client] of mine. To this other employee (who is my roommate, [name removed]) and in front of her supervisor, [my supervisor] said, “Oh, is this your wife?”  I corrected it immediately as “No, she’s my roommate.”
Myself and my roommate felt it was inappropriate; I’m embarrassed.
I’m making a complaint as this is not the first time [the not-so-innocent] has made inappropriate comments about faith/personal issues to me; I’ve addressed them with her in the past and thought it was taken care of. I can talk more about those  with you’d like.
I write that I’m taking the fall because I’m the one getting pegged for distinct deadlines prior to the company’s established deadlines for monthly paperwork; my supervision time is being double-booked two weeks in a row and my supervisor says “oh, I messed up…no I didn’t”; she hangs up on me, she conveniently “never” receives my text messages (I can prove this via phone company) ; she gives me the clients that she’s having assigned to her (I can also prove this), which she needs to be credentialed in an evidence-based practice (one of our primary sources of funding); she does not listen to me pertaining to being able to either submit notes on-time, or completing paperwork to her superficial deadlines but not both (I have multiple witnesses). I’ll be harassed, picked on and bullied until my body collapses or she finds someone else to bully.
Yet, there’s another side to silence, where I can find peace instead of noise, calm instead of jarring harassment; can breathe without needing to calm my pinched and firing nerve[s]. For me this kind of silence is filled with incense, Gregorian Chant and sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows. Usually, I’ve just beginning to grasp this kind of silence at the end of the Mass of the Catechumens. Currently, I take a single line from the Anima Christi “Hide me in Your wounds” because it’s the only place that has been once-struck and never struck again. That blow is finished for all time, and He is righteous and reigns again. I can hide wherever I want to, but I crawl into the lance-blow, and imagine Momma Mary holds the body of her Son one last moment as in the Pieta and clasps her hand over me, not only keeping me hidden but I cannot fall out either. I sleep with a Crucifix clutched in my hands because it’s the only way I can sleep through the night without waking up every 2 hours. One of these days I’ll walk behind the closed doors of a monastery which St. Therese of the Child Jesus frequently called a prisoner; however it’s the first time I won’t be imprisoned. I’ll be able to openly declare/be myself without fear of reprimand. Nothing should slow my mother down on reprimanding me about how I’ll cause the doom-and-gloom on her marriage and am an utter disgrace more than a 7 hour drive to San Francisco. I hope I laugh when I should be silent.

Photos from Recent Hike

Since the photos are not working out, go here to see the photos. Or click the title of the post.
4/17 went hiking with the South Bay Young Adults group. We hiked the San Temescal trail to Skull Rock, which from a distance kind of resembles a skull, but I think Peter Pan does a much better job. =)

These flowers were light blue on some bushes and had faded to white, as seen here.

I took this one specifically because of the spiraling of the vine.
I had not noticed this at the time, but the center of the flower is lime green.
Had I known that there was a bee in the flower, I don’t think I would have stuck the camera there.
But these lily/poppy like flowers were along the flattening of the trail leading to Skull Rock. Really pretty.
These are my favorite from the hike, flame orange and yellow.

so little!
Posted by Picasa