It's That Time of Year!

Hooray!  Today the other half of my clocks are right.  Okay, somewhat right.  Close to right.  Standard time.  So many people are happy they can sleep in an hour.  They must not have dogs.  Dogs have an innate sense of time.  Mine let me know it was getting late and they needed to go out.  That was at 6:30 am.  Thanks, girls!

I have been studying for my licensure exam.  The dogs don't agree with this.  If I am sitting on the couch reading a book, they may tolerate it after sitting on the book for awhile.  Same for the computer.  Ask Dad.  When we are Skyping, Ziva usually has to traipse over the keys making error sounds and shrinking the Skype screen as she goes.  My sitting at the dining room table studying, though, is simply intolerable!  How dare I!  There is no room for them to glue themselves to me there.

After listening to their whining yesterday as I attempted to study, I gave up and decided to get rid of their excess whining energy.  I took them for a walk.  We took the Paul Bunyan Trail.  This is so super exciting for a dog!  Oh, the smells!  All the wonderful smells!  They ran and smelled and smelled what the other smelled and sprung forward to smell the next smell.  They crunched loudly through the leaves and put their heads in the grasses and sometimes just stood and let the wind blow in their faces.  It was doggone wonderful!  I was the best doggy mom ever!

Brainerd had good intentions when they built the trail.   Unfortunately, they did not realize their townspeople would need training on such a curiosity.  The Brainerdians see a paved strip and automatically feel it is for them to drive on!  ATVs see a path through the forest and are certain it is for them!  Trucks hauling boats enjoy this shortcut that was surely for their use.  Thus, walkers and bicyclists have to leave the path to make room for the vehicles.  A truck full of duck hunters came within inches of me when I refused to move.  I tried to tell them it was a walking path and the idiot just stared ahead and put on the gas.  Unbelievable.  Is nothing sacred?

At the end of the walk, close to our house, we came upon a cadaver dog, its handler and a police officer.  Apparently a cognitively impaired man was last seen around that area a week ago and they were searching for him.  He was probably run over by an ATV, some duck hunters or boaters.

Anyway, I did finally get some studying in and the dogs were utterly exhausted - but not enough to get them to sleep in this morning!

"Update your blog"

Okay, Dad!

This week has been busy and good.  I have not had time to do things I want to do, much less stuff I have to do.

Last week, Kim and I went through more stuff and placed them in the garage.  Bob has helped with his contributions of doors and sawhorses, tables and signs.  Bob is a neighbor who likes to shop - so much so that he cannot walk in his house or garage or other house or garage, or storage sheds.  He is a peculiar person and a hoarder.  He and another neighbor have an ongoing feud.  She calls him a queer and he calls her a fucking bitch.  Bob is nearly seventy.  He owned a beauty shop and was a nurse.  He gets along well with older ladies, except Brenda.  He lives with Jim, his partner of twenty years.  I knew neither his orientation nor the fact Jim was his partner until I accused him them of bickering "like an old married couple."  Jim is supposed to be retired but does construction work around town.  He is not your stereotypical gay man and Bob is.

We planned to have the sale on Wednesday and Thursday until work finally called and said they needed me to come in on Tuesday and Wednesday.  I need the money and could never earn that at a garage sale, so I agreed.  That left us with a dilemma, as we could not have the sale on Friday, because we were attending an alumni luncheon in Duluth.  So, we did the unexpected and had it Thursday and Saturday.

Monday, I was getting ready for my interview.  I also called the Board of Social Work and asked them to give me the status of my application so I could update them at my interview.  She said if I just submitted it it would be awhile.  When I told her I submitted it in August, she was stammering and then said it was being processed.  (I was visualizing her finding it, getting that "oh, shit" look on her face and rushing it over to the person who should have processed it weeks ago.)  I was mad, but not surprised.   As I have been struggling with anxiety lately, Monday was pretty much awash.  Kim and I worked, but my mind was foggy.  I was up late, studying for the interview.

Tuesday, was the day of the interview.  I was trying to focus on my breathing.  Anna said she was going to be there.  I don't know what to expect with interviews.  Some talk about preferred therapy models, some talk about what they are looking for.  I know they were waiting for my licensure status and was prepared for that.  I tried to give them a timeline as best I knew, and found that not only do they have to wait for my licensure, but credentialing as well.  Because they cannot back-bill for when I was not credentialed.  I'm certain my shoulders dropped, as I know they have been short-staffed for months now.  It is not likely I will get this job and they don't open often...

After the interview, I went into work.  Lorna and Amanda were there and tried to catch me up on things.  Amanda left early and so did Lorna.

Wednesday was a nightmare at work.  Nursing is short-staffed.  We have a biter, who requires 3 or 4 people to toilet.  Our psychiatrist stated there are some things we cannot change in people and stated he could return to his home on Thursday or Friday.  I had to make preparations.  When Lorna returned later, she stated our nurse manager was supposed to talk to the doctor Tuesday and let her know he cannot be a danger to others when he returns.  I had already called the nursing home and told them they were getting him back.  Through the day on Wednesday, this man was vocalizing constantly.  At times the unit is more like an asylum than others.  Wednesday was more like an asylum.  I was tired when I went home and had to get ready for the sale.

Thursday I was up by 5 am and putting more things out.  Kim and Bob came at seven.  It was cold and walking on the concrete hurt my feet, ankles, knees, hips and back.  The garage doors opened and as we put tables out, people began arriving.  It wasn't supposed to start until 9 am.  

The thing about garage sales, is that there are different types of shoppers.  The first wave is usually the professionals.  These are people that have their own shops or sales and collect underpriced items or offer you small amounts of money for your already underpriced stuff.  I think they are governed by their own rule to never pay full price.  One man approached my $20 carpet cleaner/vacuum and wanted to know if I would take $15.  I suppose I should have jumped at it and he would have been happy.  I did not.  He asked me to meet him half way and I did better and said $17.  He would not meet me half way.  After plugging it in (it worked well) and trying it twice he walked away.  "Meeting him halfway" in his eyes was giving him his price.  It was apparent by the condition of this item that it was never used.  I am not so emotionally attached to this that I cannot part with it, but unused carpet cleaners are quite expensive and he wanted a steal.

In the afternoon, Bob was gone and it was Kim and I.  We had a couple of drugged up couples who stopped by and stayed too long.  Kim and I both felt they had alternative motives.  I think one couple was waiting for the crowds to die down so they could rob us.  Kim agreed.  The crowds did not die down and they left.  The other couple may have been trying to take something and who knows, they may have taken something.  If they needed to do that, then they have to live with themselves.  I'm not losing sleep over it.  Kim and I were both concerned about my safe being out there.  It is too heavy to lift without either a Minnesota Viking who is not busy beating his kids, or a world class weightlifter so it is stuck in the garage.  It houses only my journals yet people may believe it contains money.  She was concerned for my safety and felt we should cover it better, but I decided to put a "sold" sign on it and call it good.

Friday we left for Duluth.  We had a nice drive, looking at the colorful leaves against the backdrop of the evergreens.  We had both driven the Brainerd-Duluth route many times and agreed the moisture over the past year had changed the landscape.  A truck in front of us was making the drive interesting by dropping black bags sporadically on the highway.  During my childhood, there must have been a story in the news about a baby - or babies - found in a garbage bag by the side of the road.  Ever since then, whenever I see a garbage bag by the side of the road, I think of dead babies.  I had told Kim about this and she now has the same thoughts (and thanks me very much!).  So, we weaved around the dead babies dropping off the truck onto the highway until we turned.

A sense of calm dropped over us as we got to the top of the hill and saw Lake Superior.  It has a way of doing that for some people.  Kim talks about how she used to look forward to the "Mesaba" sign that indicated the road to my apartment.  Our friendship started in Duluth and we both miss those times when she stayed with me at my apartment.  We always got our work done but had time to talk.  She credits me for her degree.  For making her stay in school instead of dropping out like she wanted.  For talking her through overwhelming tasks by making her eat elephants - one bite at a time, of course and stop trying to swallow it whole!

When we got to Grandma's (the restaurant where we met for the alumni gathering) we were both in danger of wetting ourselves.  We joined the others afterwards, signing in and socializing our way through to the food.  Bobbie Jo was full of smiles and hugs.  We did not get along well during our time at school.  She started the second year and was arrogant and immature.  My heart went out to her later that year when a child she had a CHIPS case on died.  She grew up a lot then and was less arrogant and more serious.  She has her own issues now as I see on Facebook, but seems to have a new respect for me as well.

Next we saw Sig.  Sig got up from the table and hugged us both.  Sig was a nice guy who never got involved in the drama of the younger students - Kim and I did not either.  He was already working in the field and is involved in the Duluth community as well.  He is quiet and unassuming.  We surprised him once going through the line to pay for parking and paid for his as well.  He later repaid the favor. Kim wanted to set me up with him but neither of us could figure out if he was gay or straight.  He did not speak much of himself.  He was quite involved with domestic abuse issues after his aunt experienced them.  He works with kids at one of the group homes in Duluth.  He lives on Park Point. Park Point is a long island on the canal.  Mostly the wealthy live there and it would be a great place to  experience Duluth.  Later Sig gave us his card and asked us to look him up when we are back.  He is going to Russia to meet some Russian social workers who have come to Duluth to learn the Duluth Model.  We will!  Sig is good people.  The kind you feel better for having known.

We sat at the two remaining seats in the room with social workers who graduated in the '70s.  One is now working at a research place with cadavers and is no longer a practicing social worker.  Another just retired.  The retired woman's eyeliner stated she was either mentally ill, drunk or messed up on drugs.  Kim and I both thought to ourselves and spoke to each other about it, hoping that is not what we have to look forward to.  Kim won a t-shirt and I won a lunch box, both sporting the UMD logo.  The cadaver guy won a nice black sweatshirt.

I was done with people by the time it ended.  On my way out I spoke with Ann.  Ann was a teacher who did not like me for some reason.  My first paper in her class was returned to me straightened after having obviously been crumpled and haphazardly stapled closed to hide the red ink decorating the meat of my writing.  The text book in her class was dry and most people in the class did not even open it after the first reading assignment.  I openly criticized the book, stating that social work is interesting and this book was certain to change people's opinion of it.  I should have looked to see if she in any way authored the text.  It sucked.  It is the only book Kim and I vowed to have a ceremonial burning of after school ended.

Ann is interested in pursuing gerontology in social work.  Finally we had something to talk about!  I told her about my job at a gerontologic inpatient unit and how I had learned a great deal there.  She was excited and this felt like a discussion that would continue at some point.

Kim and I were ready to go.  We were grateful lunch was free and we had more to spend on shopping, though we had little time.  Our first stop was the Electric Fetus.  It is a head shop smelling of incense with nice clothing, jewelry, scarves and some snarky intellectual items.  I'm still confused about how head shops and intellectual items converge, but I will figure it out some day.  I bought a mug adorned with famous first lines from literary classics and a couple of scarves.  Kim thought I should splurge more because of the previous day's sales, but I was okay with smaller items.  She got a nice sweater.  We walked along Superior St. and discovered many shops were closed, despite their signs welcoming social workers.  (Gotta love Duluth!)  Finally we found a shop that was open on the third floor.  Lady Ocalat's Emprorium.  The name alone had us curious.  After embarking the stairs in the beautiful old building, we found that Lady O's was a witchcraft shop.  Since Kim had recently found she has an ancestor who was hanged in Salem Massachusetts for witchcraft, this was of particular interest.  Rather than purchasing items to cast bad spells, I thought I would encourage some positive energy with a bar of soap and some candles.  I'm a good witch, through and through.  Kim purchased some tarot cards and I will expect a reading soon.  Our next stop was Starbucks.  We were both terribly thirsty and ready for a sweet to cap the Duluth experience.  There were three spots open in front of Starbucks.  They were for Pay Ahead parking.  Hmm...  Kim parked anyway and I was somewhat stressed about the fact she may get a ticket.  We agreed we each get anxious about different things.  I am a rule follower and she is something of a rebel with some social anxiety.

The way back was good for processing the experience.  She agreed she would visit me if I moved to Duluth.  I love Duluth and would not mind moving there, except it is farther away from my family.  It is a small Minneapolis with a very academic atmosphere.  There is a strong community there that is concerned with social justice.  It is on the edge of what could be an ocean for all the eye can see and borders the wilderness of forest that is Northern Minnesota.  The lake and nearby Canadian border give it an international connection.  My kind of place.

I returned to my neurotic dogs wondering where in the hell I had gone!  They missed me terribly.  Unfortunately, my mailbox had bad news.  The board had rejected my application again.  They said I did not complete the required paperwork so it could not be processed.  I had talked to Cheryl about my interim supervisor and she stated I did not need to send the additional paperwork they now said I did.  I will place a call Monday morning straightaway and offer to hand deliver the shit!  I had actually made myself a promise to screw clinical social work and pursue macro if I was rejected again.  As soon as I recover from this week I will do so.  I was upset and went to Kim's to show her the letter.  Everyone we know who has had to experience the fucking board bullies feels abused.  Kim has gone through this with me and I with her.  They have too much power.  I will speak with my state representative.

Liz, a.k.a. Liz-The-Best was having her going away party that night.  Kim thought we should go, as did I.  If you ever needed anything done at Northern Pines, Liz was the key.  She would get it done.  Liz is a nice person with heavy eyeliner who was completely indispensable.  She found a job in St. Cloud, closer to her aging parents and was moving to help out on the farm.  She has a great sense of humor, some rough edges, questionable office furniture construction skills, but is a wonderful person who tells it like it is!  We will miss her.  The party was at Last Turn.  This is an old hotel believed to be haunted.  It has the original fixtures and woodwork and is the social worker hang-out in Brainerd.
Although Kim and I agreed to only have a couple, we stayed too late for waking early for the garage sale.

Four a.m. came early and I was running down to the basement to find things for the sale.  I had promised more items would be out on Saturday and so they were.  Kim was over slightly after seven, with sleep lingering in her voice.  She wanted to drink some coffee before we started so we did.  I kept losing my coffee, setting it in unusual places.  I should seriously sit still with my coffee in the morning until I have had enough to navigate through such complex tasks as scratching my head and asking questions.  Only when Bob rang the doorbell did we get up and get to work.

The sale was busy again, but this time Jen and her daughter Ahnika came over in the afternoon and played guitar and sang.  What a gimmick!  We had live music at our garage sale.  That was a first for me.  We gave Ahnika a large bowl and she was able to earn some money.  Neighbors came over and sat in the midcentury modern chair selling for $40 and the wicker chair selling for $10 and listened.  They both have excellent voices and made the day quite interesting.

So, Dad, apart from the board meeting I have not yet talked about and the other activities throughout the week, this is why I have not had time to update my blog!

Captains Log:
Sunday August 10, 2014.

I purchased an elliptical from Amazon this week and though the box is open, I am trying to find an opportunity to assemble it.  I feel I need the exercise to handle the stress of all that is happening.  However, my mind is a jumble.  Thoughts are careening out of control.  I need to clean the clutter in my house to clean the clutter in my mind.  I also need to clean the gutters but don't have a ladder.  Should I borrow or buy one?  I just need it done.  Perhaps I will just hire someone.  Then I don't have to ask anyone for favors and I am afraid of heights anyway.  But who knows if I will need that money or not if I don't get a full-time job soon.  It would be nice to stay here to get my student loans paid off.  $60,000 in 4 years.  But can I stand 4 more years?  I have dog toy debris all over the floor, dishes to put in the dishwasher, dishes to hand wash.  I started two loads of laundry, one is in the washer and one is in the dryer.  This does present a problem because I have no place to put them once they are clean.  So that leads me to clearing space in my closet.  Since my weight has been bouncing around so much lately, this is a difficult task.  I have put the bulkiest of clothing in the closet in the spare bedroom (which is a mess from urgently looking for things that have been packed).  I have sorted the garage items for the garage sale and have more to go through in the house.  I need to get ahold of Josie and see if she is still interested in having a garage sale.  I need to get ready for the week ahead and find an outfit for Friday.  I need to collect all my paperwork for my application for licensure.  I need to study for the test and there is a friend in Duluth that has study materials she can loan me.  If I am moving, I need to get the house ready to show.  I wonder if I need to paint my living room walls a more neutral color.  I wish I could run and run and run physically.  Maybe this would clear my mind as well.  I should complete the cover letter for the job opening at Lakewood.  Do I want to stay with all the commotion right now.  It may get better in September but perhaps not.  We have no permanent psychiatrist right now.  No one wants to move this far North.  I think for the extremely wealthy it is a nice place to live.  I believe our former psychiatrists sold there homes for some number in the 7 digit category.  Dryer stopped need to get the clothes out before they wrinkle.  But I blogged today and can remove that from my hard drive now.

A little decorum, please...

I have been having difficulty sleeping.  It is hard to sleep with my arm in pain by the end of the day.  The pain shoots up the inside of my right arm.  It needs to be warm - the cold intensifies the pain.  It needs to be straight out to feel okay.  By the end of the day, it just hurts.

To top that off, my insomnia has kicked off.  Not only is it difficult to get to sleep, but also difficult to stay asleep.  Melatonin worked for awhile, now it seems to have stopped.  Benedryl, the additive to over the counter analgesics, keeps me awake.  I try to read, and that makes my eyes sleepy, but that's all.

Anyway, the point is, my anxiety level has been high lately.  It is difficult to leave the house and I sense some agoraphobia.  I don't want neighbors to see me.  I don't want to see them.  Across the street, a house that has been empty for many years now has a rummage sale.  I cannot go outside without seeing not only my neighbors, but also the local rummagers.

Wednesday I took Ziva in to the Staples Vet Clinic for shots, check up and spaying.  I did not sleep well the night before because of my anxiety.  Looking deeper, I realize that my last couple of visits to the vet have resulted in me coming home sans a family member.  Maybe therein lie that anxiety.  Plus, my fear of driving and it was rainy and Ziva is scared of car rides at this point.  So, we both trembled all the way to Staples to the vet.

We have veterinarians in Brainerd, but I was told how good Staples was and how inexpensive.  When I pulled up to the building I could see why it was inexpensive: it looked like it was about to fall down!  The tiles in the building were cracked with pieces missing.  The front desk was dark and crowded with various people both behind and standing in front of the desk.  A lady rushed by me with a tissue clutched tightly in her hand held up to her red face.  My heart went out to her.

I gave Ziva's information to the girl at the front, and after what seemed like a very long time, she had me take Ziva to the back.  I dropped Ziva off in a kennel like they show on the ASPCA commercials. I hugged her and tried to walk calmly out.  In the middle of the hallway between offices, there was a dead Rottweiller in a wheelbarrow.  Apparently this is what the lady was crying about.  I was a bit shaken, since it had not been long since I held a lifeless dog in my arms.  As the wheelbarrow moved, the dog stilled jiggled.  It was not stiff yet.  My mounting anxiety directed me through the wrong doorway before I was corrected and pointed in the right direction.

I got in my car and put on my seatbelt in enough time to see the wheelbarrow with its uncovered load coming out the back door of the building and heading for another small building on the lot.  I pulled around in enough time to see the guy dump the body into the metal cylinder it would be burned in.  I did not notice the chimney coming out of the building before now.  I continued home, not really following the speed limit until I noticed later and just wanted to go get Ziva back.

They Will Figure It Out

Last night my dreams were upsetting.  In one dream, I was staying somewhere out of town and the place I was staying landed in rubble.  I barely escaped.  They were able to get my iPhone.  Also in this dream were the destruction of two large metropolitan structures.  Somehow in this dream, no one believed me that all of this had happened, despite the change in the skyline.

When I awoke, I figured it all out.  I am not making correlations to the dream, because I cannot see how they relate, but I found myself objectively seeing what is happening with my friends.  I feel like during the worst part of my employment crisis, my friends were suddenly missing.  My "BFF" was gone.  I know she has been struggling herself with the job and her general busy-ness.  But, there were definite blocks that were not there before.  Almost all at once, my friends were not there for me.

During a recent spat, one "friend" I discovered had lied to the others about me.  This eroded my credibility and my friendship with my BFF.  Since then, there have been so many get-togethers set up and cancelled.  I took it all at face value, because I know with my depression, I tend to erroneously fill in the blanks.  But Saturday was it.  I am in a good place now emotionally and mentally, so realize I am not allowing my depression to fill in the blanks.  I took out my iPhone and scribed a message to my BFF, letting her know that I love her and miss her, but the ball is in her court for getting together with me.  I told her I felt like I had not been taking the hint and no longer wished to pester her.  She has not replied, which hurt, but I realize if the other badmouthing "friend" is doing what I think she is, my fighting back only plays into her game.  I had this happen once before, years ago.  Back then, I could say anything and it was as if no one believed me.  When I stopped fighting back and backed off, the antagonist found another victim and everyone could see what was the antagonist was doing.

So, now I know all I need to do is back off and let it all play out or find new friends.  Meanwhile, I contacted the other victim of the antagonist from years ago and she completely gets it.  She understands how you can feel inherently flawed when one person seemingly turns the world against you.  She is so supportive and understanding and is one person in this world who knows things like this happen.  Why do such friends live so far away?

Cleaning the Sunshine Off My Shoe!

Okay, Lefty, I will tell you about my place of work.

I work at a specialized geriatric acute psychiatric hospital.  Basically, when geriatric clients have mental problems, we are where they are put on a 72-hour hold.  They come from many places: home, the hospital, children's homes or the nursing home.  For a 72-hour hold (or more) with us, they need to be suicidal or potentially dangerous to themselves or others or are suddenly delusional.

The lady at Mom's nursing home that was intrusive and affecting other patients probably went somewhere like us for diagnostics.  We had one lady who accidentally took too much prescribed medication that had personality difficulties with other patients at the assisted living facility where she was living.  Another client was in the hospital for an amputation, and was constantly out of his bed and taking off his bandages.  We have some clients that are violent.  They hit other people, bite or spit.  We had one suicidal one this week.  She was discharged the next day.

Unfortunately, some that come to us have physical problems that manifest psychologically.  They can see people in the room if they have a urinary tract infection.  Some of them are in more dire physical health.  I have asked about reporting some of this, as we get some in bad shape from nursing home that should have detected a problem sooner.

We have a staff of experts in geriatrics.  We meet each morning, sometimes until noon to discuss our patients' statuses.  There are often obvious medical issues that do not affect the clients' mental health and we address it.  One woman was tested for PCOS that is obvious should have been caught years ago.  Some people have not been to a doctor.  One lady we admitted was yelling in pain.  After all kinds of diagnostics, the fact was her body was shutting down.  She needed to go to hospice close to her family where they could manage her pain.  She was only eating 10% of her food.  They are surprised her vitals are as good as they are.

I do nine groups Monday through Wednesday.  My clients are mostly geriatric with a couple younger ones.  There is a man in group who uses his humor to avoid emotional topics.  His wife is in the memory care wing of the senior campus.  She has Alzheimer's and he could no longer care for her.  He holds a special spot in my heart. There are so many older adults with undiagnosed mental illness.  This is likely due to that generation hiding mental illness and not seeking help.

We do all sorts of assessments to determine if it is dementia, stroke, medical conditions or unaddressed mental health issues.  One lady was diagnosed for the first time in her life with bipolar disorder.  I am not sure I am on board with that diagnosis.  Maybe a personality disorder, but I am not seeing bipolar.  She has lived with a mean abusive husband all her life.  Many older adults lose their filter as they age.  I think she has a case of that as well.  I enjoy talking to her.

People in this hospital are only supposed to stay 7 to 10 days.  Sometimes we have no place for them to go.  If they came from a nursing home, the home may not want them back.  Then they are "stuck" until we or their family find a place for them.  Nursing homes have cliques, too.  Sometimes the "in" group doesn't want the person back because they don't fit in.  So, even if they do get batter...

By the way, I got an award today.  I haven't even been there a month!

Stepping into a Pile of Sunshine

I began my new job on December 23, 2013.  Since then I hit the ground running.  Unusual circumstances have led to my working full-time (for now) conducting structured outpatient groups.  I am still considered "casual time", but that is likely to change soon.

Yesterday I sat in on a meeting my supervisor would have gone to.  Friday, I attend another one.  I am leery of blogging about the circumstances that have taken place to bring me to that point.  What I can say is that my supervisor is gone indefinitely.  That is basically all I do know.

I have learned so much since I started.  I did not know that a urinary tract infection can lead to symptoms of dementia, hallucinations, and psychosis.  I did not know that general anesthetic can greatly speed up the process of dementia.  I have been taking notes and absorbing so much!

I have also learned that it is so important to have a health agent whom you can trust to make decisions for you as opposed to power of attorney.  Power of attorney is fine for financial matters, but the health agent trumps the POA in health matters.

I laugh at work, and sometimes I should not.  The male nurse leered at me when I laughed about a patient calling him a "son-of-a-bitch."  When the current (supervisor) of our department found out from the rest of us that my supervisor was off indefinitely, I also laughed.  Not that I wasn't concerned, it was just another change the department is surfing.  In my old age I see that change happens fast and you need to "surf" change, knowing you will pull through somehow.

I've got to run.  I have a new adventure to prepare for.

Decisions

Well, I start my new job on Monday.  There will be 2 "solid" weeks of training before I will be basically on call in this new "casual time" position.  The pay is good.  I would be able to overcome a huge barrier to my finding employment and obtain my LICSW.

Unemployment informed me if I want to stay on unemployment, I will have to basically take any job.  McDonalds?

Meanwhile, I have an interview today for the director position in a small agency.  The pay is low, but the rewards intangible.  It would be up to me to increase my salary.  I don't know if I feel comfortable with that.  That, and I would not be able to be independently licensed through my work there, unless I figure out how to do therapy at this advocacy agency.

I also received an e-mail from a Duluth hospital, hiring a psychotherapist, that they will be calling me soon, likely after the holidays.  It sounds like they will be informing me of the details of the position and then interviewing.

As I sit here on one of my last days off before working, I wonder what I should do.  I have taken the casual time job, but what if I am offered one of the other positions?  Especially the director one?

My decisions are so difficult right now.  I have difficulty deciding if I should shower from one day to the next.  It sometimes takes me all day to get in the shower.  Now I am faced with big life-changing decisions like this?  What on earth do I do?  Help.

The Final Straw

Stella and Ziva were playing too rough after they ate their supper.  Ziva ended up pooping on the floor - a rare accident these days and usually inspired by overactivity.  Stella is a hyperactive dog that sees her puppy as a playmate.  I needed a timeout and so did they.  I was putting Stella in her kennel so I could clean up the mess.  Ziva ran in after her.  Fine with me.  I cleaned up the poop and went outside to put it in the trash and shovel a bit.  Over the sounds of the shovel, I heard Ziva shrieking and yelping.  I came in to find Ziva standing on her hind legs in the back corner of the kennel facing out.  I called for her and she did not move.  She continued to whimper.  I had to poke her from the outside of the kennel to get her down and picked her up.  She was covered in poop.  I don't know if additional poop was a result of the attack by Stella or the reason for Stella's attacking her, but no dog rolls in its own poop, so Stella must have attacked her on it.  I left Stella in the kennel while I bathed the apparently traumatized Ziva.

Leaving Stella in the kennel, I cuddled with Ziva until she finally went to sleep.  I let Stella out for her last outing of the night and when she came back in, found Ziva and began growling and biting at her.  I put Stella back in the kennel.  She stayed there through the night until the next morning and then was playing aggressively again.  Kim stopped over and Stella continued to be aggressive towards Ziva, so back in the kennel she went.

I love dogs and think I could have made it work with Stella if she was the only one.  I regret having gotten her when I did, and then came the babies and I was stuck with all of them for 8 weeks longer.  Ziva was the last remaining pup.  I was looking for a home for her until Stella attacked her.

There was other behavior, too.  Stella had no qualms about jumping on the coffee table and knocking things off, onto the floor.  Then she and Ziva would play tug of war with my bills, my documentation for the Minnesota Board of Social Work, magazines, books, etc.  I found part of my Ped Egg the other day.  She would also knock my drinks over onto the floor.  Milk, coffee, pop...it was all fair game to her.  If I would lay on the couch, watching tv, she would get on the top the couch and jump on my stomach.  She liked to put her head above mine.  That is dog language for, "I am in charge of you."

Despite all of this poor behavior, I realize that I was not likely in a good place to train a dog that challenging.  That is a risk you take with dogs, and honestly, I did not see it coming.  Regardless, I found a new home for her where she will be an only child.  Her new owner's dog was run over after a neighbor let the dog out.  The lady was so happy and Stella jumped right in the lady's car without a second look at me.  The lady hugged me and wished me a "Merry Christmas!", stating I had just made her Christmas.  I think since Stella will be an only child, she will be given the attention she demands.

Sage cried.  Ziva seems relaxed and slept through the night without a sound.  I feel guilty, but the thoughts going through my head after the attack had a much harsher end to Stella's presence here.  It is for the better.

WHO says

The Black Dog.

It is awful knowing what you need and not being able to afford it.

What Would I Say?

I went to lunch with Kim2 on Thursday.  She asked if I could talk to my former supervisor what would I say to her?

I've been thinking about this and I know I could not talk to her, because she would not listen to me or take what I tell her to heart.

If I could be promised that she would, I would tell her that people's dislike of her has nothing to do with her skin color.  I would tell her that she is intelligent and honest, but uses neither in a positive way.  I would tell her she is despicable, condescending, judgmental, and controlling.

I would let her know that she consistently violates the NASW Code of Ethics:

When she speaks or gestures negatively about her colleagues:

(a) Social workers should treat colleagues with respect and should represent accurately and fairly the qualifications, views, and obligations of colleagues.
(b) Social workers should avoid unwarranted negative criticism of colleagues in communications with clients or with other professionals. Unwarranted negative criticism may include demeaning comments that refer to colleagues’ level of competence or to individuals’ attributes such as race, ethnicity, national origin, color, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, age, marital status, political belief, religion, immigration status, and mental or physical disability.

When she tells those without licensure they should not obtain licensure because then they will have to take clients with Medicare:  

Ethical Principles

The following broad ethical principles are based on social work’s core values of service, social justice, dignity and worth of the person, importance of human relationships, integrity, and competence. These principles set forth ideals to which all social workers should aspire.

Value: Service

Ethical Principle: Social workers’ primary goal is to help people in need and to address social problems. 
Social workers elevate service to others above self­interest. Social workers draw on their knowledge, values, and skills to help people in need and to address social problems. Social workers are encouraged to volunteer some portion of their professional skills with no expectation of significant financial return (pro bono service).

and

Value: Dignity and Worth of the Person

Ethical Principle: Social workers respect the inherent dignity and worth of the person. 
Social workers treat each person in a caring and respectful fashion, mindful of individual differences and cultural and ethnic diversity. Social workers promote clients’ socially responsible self­determination. Social workers seek to enhance clients’ capacity and opportunity to change and to address their own needs. Social workers are cognizant of their dual responsibility to clients and to the broader society. They seek to resolve conflicts between clients’ interests and the broader society’s interests in a socially responsible manner consistent with the values, ethical principles, and ethical standards of the profession.

and

Value: Integrity

Ethical Principle: Social workers behave in a trustworthy manner. 
Social workers are continually aware of the profession’s mission, values, ethical principles, and ethical standards and practice in a manner consistent with them. Social workers act honestly and responsibly and promote ethical practices on the part of the organizations with which they are affiliated.

I could never trust her.  She kept telling me I could, all the while going to the COO and planning my demise.  I know this from things that she said to me during meetings.  I told her I could not trust the COO and she told her this.  

She made derogatory comments about the way I dressed and the way my friend Kim1 dresses.  She is a bully.  Someone told her that she is afraid of her, and she is taking that as a racist statement and I hope she does not retaliate accordingly.  She is afraid of her because she is a bully.  I was uninvited to a book club because of her, and I feel she said something to the person who invited me and inevitably had to uninvite me.  This was after I left my job.  

I could elaborate more with examples, but I think I have done so in former posts.  

That question

One should never ask him/herself the question when he/she is down:  If you knew your life would be like it is right now, would you have chosen to live?

When things were going bad at Wells Fargo, and I was having panic attacks about going home to Brian, Jess and Brian's ex's essence in our home, I felt my life was hell and out of control.  It was a passing thought to drive off the road at certain points.  It was a mere flicker of thought.  I knew I could not do it.

I went to counseling and figured out how to put some boundaries in place and things really sucked at times, but handing Brian over his problems and washing my hands of them was inevitably liberating. I never considered myself a control freak, but by trying to gain control of his life so mine would be more in control was what I had tried.

Now when I am alone, my thoughts linger back to those times when I could have just turned the steering wheel sharply and...well, my luck I would have lived, but in worse shape!  But I think of that point in my life.  If I knew that I would be 47 years old, have my master's, be living alone, unemployed with my children out of reach, I don't know if I would have kept that car on the road.

I think when I was a kid, I looked forward to being grown up.  I did not feel comfortable being a kid. I was too mature for other kids.  Everything I wanted to play imitated grown ups.  I hated sitting at the kids' table.  Now I feel like I am at the table all alone.  I am still uncomfortable with who I am, or perhaps my circumstances.

One thing that showed up in therapy with me, was that instead of showing my anger outward, I swallow it.  I project it inward at myself.  Perhaps that is the root of my depression.  Some people are angry at other people, or things or situations and they express it outward.  I come down hard on me.  It is difficult for people to be in the same room with the one they are mad at, and I have a hard time being in the same body as the one I am angry with.  Perhaps it will resolve itself.  Somethings gotta give!

Don't worry, I have no plan or intent to put an end to my life.  I could not do that to my family or friends.  Sometimes life slaps you down.  After getting up and being slapped down again, sometimes you just stay down and wait until it feels safe to come back up again.  I hope I get there soon.

Dammit Dad!

Okay, Dad, you wanted a posting - or at least said you were tired of the Amazing Dog one.  I don't know what there is to blog about.  I think about no one knows my life and how it appears to be so much like the movie, Groundhog's Day.

One day blends into the next and they all seem so trivial - lacking any purpose except that of stopping the inane repetition.

Does Stella appear to be pleading I not get rid of her?  She cannot help herself that she is so annoying.  She is a puppy, after all, and she and I have constant disagreement about who should run the show.  Sage agrees that I should, so I think the majority wins.  She needs to comply, I need to crackdown or she needs to go.  Her puppy racks up points in the cute, small, and sweet category, so Ziva may stay if Stella goes.

After helping a friend move for the second time in a year, I decided to begin to unload myself of many worldly possessions.  My friend has so much stuff that maneuvering around her two bedroom apartment is as of yet impossible.  I don't want to continue to drag stuff everywhere and smaller furniture even sounds attractive.  Unfortunately, I cannot afford the luxury of buying anything right now.  So, I am selling all I do not need.  Since I am a bibliophile, getting rid of books is very difficult.  I will have a garage sale and what doesn't sell will get donated.  The library can do with them what they wish and I won't have to see it.  Eric has also decided to take some of our childhood books.  I have the Precylopedias and Childcraft books.  As long as Eric allows me to visit them once in awhile, I am fine with passing them on.  

Ben finally got the first box I sent him and enjoyed the peanut butter cookies and powder.  I have since learned if you freeze them first they may hold their shape better when you seal them.  I will try that with the next batch.  I made him a batch of fantasy fudge, and did not cut into squares.  I figured I will allow the trip to Japan to break them into squares.

What is happiness?  I struggle with depression since being unemployed.  I am trying to find out how to be happy despite this situation.  It is hard, because I am supposed to earn my unemployment looking for a job and yet, that is so depressing.  I have pages of jobs applied for and rejected for.  I think about furthering my knowledge in my field, yet think I should be busy applying and searching for jobs.  Happiness lies dissected and yet my knowledge of what it is and how to attain it, forever illusive.

If I were my client, I would tell me to be around people.  Do nice things.  Volunteer.  Be active.  Set a schedule and follow it.  Find out what is sucking your energy and amend it.  Start on something for 5 minutes.  If you finish, great, if not, you have 5 minutes of it done.  Eat right and exercise.  Shower and dress daily.  But, I am not my client and I won't listen to me.  

There is a new magazine sitting on my table.  It is livehappy.  Osmosis is not feeding me the information.  Perhaps today after I finish showering, if I do, I will read it.  There is also a Happify website.  But it wants more money for me to keep going.  

So, what did I do to myself?  I spent a great deal of time in my head growing up.  I always hypothesized.  I am beginning to wonder if I set my expectations too high for what I thought should be going on in my life.  I wanted a large, loving family, a house that would be the holiday landing strip for my children and a husband that loved me.  I find myself alone, living somewhere none of my family has even seen and no husband.  

Attitude of gratitude.  

November is the month to be grateful.  Someone out there said that gratitude is the key to happiness.  I find that is a bit shallow.  Kim and I were talking about this.  I am grateful for so much.  I really don't take much for granted.  I love my family and each moment with them is cherished.  I love my dogs.  I am grateful for the warmth of my home.  I never take time spent with friends for granted, either.  So, if I am so grateful, what is the problem?

There is a seminar in January in St. Cloud on happiness.  Maybe I will understand it better then.  If I go.  I just might, because it could be a chance to spend time with Kim if she goes with me.  And I NEVER take that for granted.

One Amazing Puppy

I found Stella online in Brainerd. Her owner only had her for a week and said she did not get along with her husky. We met at a parking lot, and did the "exchange." The owner told me she was 6 months old and she was so cute, happy and eager to come with me. The owner had her cell phone in her bra, so I knew Stella was coming from a class act... I decided she needed rescuing.

Sage, my last dog from the gang of three I had when in Sioux Falls, did not like Stella. Stella was quite submissive in asking for Sage's approval, but Sage was not interested. Stella followed me everywhere. In fact, one sign that something was not right was when she stopped following me everywhere and stayed on the couch.

About two weeks ago, I noticed her nipples were large and her belly was getting bigger. I wondered if she had worms and maybe if some dogs' nipples enlarged when they were going into heat. I was waiting for a heat cycle to spay her because it is better for their bladders to wait until after the first heat cycle. As I started watching her belly, I noticed movement. I thought I was seeing things until the night before last when I was positive that I saw large movement. I tried to wash an old bed of Princess' but the washer had an error code. I waited until the next morning to look up the error code. Unfortunately, when Stella pooped 3 times - instead of her usual 1 - and kept trying to pee, I knew she was in labor and washing the bed would have to wait.

I thought I would try to take a shower as she slept, so laid out some towels and sheets just in case. Then I sat beside her and reassured her that I would be right back. She laid her head on my leg and I could tell she was in pain. Her mouth opened and her body strained and she was shaking. I held her head as her back end reared up and she had about three tail-raising contractions that gave birth to the first puppy - white with black spots.

She looked at it in shock and attended to her rear, that was obviously in pain. She really did not attend to the puppy until I tore the amniotic sac with my fingernails. She lay down next to it and started cleaning it. When I went out to have a smoke, she got off the couch and followed me. The first one nearly crawled off the couch. I put the first one in her crate, and it got its head caught between the little bars. It was a comedy of errors...

After quite awhile, the second came - white with brown spots - after the first was clean and we had a break for a bit. Then with much more pain came the third and largest of them all. It is tan with brown mask and a diamond on its head. She was just beginning cleaning of that one, when the last was born. Black with white feet, tail tip, and collar. She appeared to be out of energy and did not notice the black one under her tail with the rest of them nursing and whimpering. I had to bring it to her attention after I checked to see if it was breathing.

It was quite an experience. She is a very good mother and now is growling at Sage, instead of vice versa. She runs to the door when I leave, seemingly in a panic, afraid I am leaving her. I tried to work in my office today, but she kept coming to get me - and then back to her litter, so I had to bring my computer in the living room by the box of puppies. She is content when I am near her and will sleep then. She is really too young to be a mother. I am here to support her and help where I can. She surprised me! Quite the 5-for-1 discount!

Today Stella came and got me. I thought she had to go outside, instead she led me through the kitchen to the doormat in front of the door to the garage. There I found a poop. She was showing me she could not wait while I was sleeping and had to go. This I find amazing. Every time I let her out to do her thing, she races back inside to be with her babies. Sage gets nipped or at the least severely reprimanded if she is in a 3 foot radius of the puppies.

Afraid to walk out my door...

So, last winter a nice guy helped me dig my car out of the snow in my driveway.  I was hung up on the stuff the city allowed to get packed down before they plowed it into my way.

This year, I found out who the guy was.  He is the neighbor's handyman.  He mows, snow-blows, paints, trims bushes, weeds, etc.  He came into the yard when I was out a few weeks ago, and asked if I would go out for a couple of drinks with him.  He said it has taken him this long to get the gumption to ask.  I agreed to coffee.  We met for coffee at 10:00 am and he was dressed up in his work clothes: old t-shirt, old jeans and ball cap.  Really, he shouldn't have.

Over coffee "we" discussed all the stuff in his garage and basement he needed to get rid of, the stuff he has sold at online garage sales, his stepdaughter from a previous relationship, and he did not ask me anything about me.  Afterwards he gave me his phone number and I did not reciprocate.

He has come knocking on my door, caught me outside and talked my ears off.  I don't want to go out with him.  I am not interested.  He even stated that I have not given him my number, and I agreed and nodded. (Yeah, you're right.  I did not.)  He is attempting to discourage me from leaving Brainerd, asking if I contacted that one lady in private practice.  Telling me I should so I don't have to leave here.

He mowed my side of the yard next to my neighbors' yard, went through my cardboard I have out for pickup, thinking I wouldn't mind and has monopolized my time.  I am chalking up the hours of my life I will never get back.  I am irritated beyond belief.  Monday, he came over when the contractor was here to put my door on and started talking to me just to apparently mark his territory.  Yesterday he came over every time I walked outside.  He does not recognize the deep frown on my face or the indifference to his narratives or the fact I don't reciprocate with the conversation.

I hate NOT working, and my time at home is evolving into complete hell with this guy working next door every single day!  I am already motivated to find a job.  He is motivating me to agoraphobia.  Tomorrow there is a workshop at the unemployment office.  I signed up for it just to get away.  Leave me the @#$% alone!

I understand - have been told, anyway - men can't take hints.  I believe it.  The next time he comes over I will make certain he gets the hints - I will tell him to leave me alone.

Apparently teens these days would say in disgust, "Stalker!"  or "Creeper!"

I think when I was miserable being lonely and not having anyone to talk to, this was the universe's answer to my request to end my loneliness.  Ha. Ha.  I am not amused.

Magnum v. Charlie's Angels

I remember when growing up, we watched a great deal of tv.  It was our entertainment.  Renee and I wanted to watch Charlie's Angels and Mom and Dad insisted on watching something else.  I don't know if it was at the same time as Magnum P.I. or if they were even competing, but the argument was that Charlie's Angels objectified women.

Years later I caught an episode of Magnum P.I. and realized that women in that series were usually bikini clad and had no significant or powerful role in the series.  I thought about how, at the time, Charlie's Angels may have been the most empowering television show for women.  I did identify with the brainy one in the trio...

The beginning of a hot summer day

     I awoke at 5:30 am, unable to sleep any longer.  What does today bring for me?  I placed a cup of yesterday's coffee in the microwave and went outside to smoke.  The fox scurried from my yard towards the woods and a deer reluctantly followed.  I walked around, looking at the plants and weeds I have growing, and thought of all the things I have to do.  I began watering the potted plants and set up the sprinkler for the ones in the ground and apparently the weeds surrounding them.  After a month, I see the deer discovered my sunflowers and on the some leaves were missing while others the entire tops were bitten off.  Pests!  The lawn needs mowed.
     The laundry has piled up, which meant for last week, pulling things from the back of the closet for work.  Clean laundry is piled up on the table by the washer and dryer.  Wrinkled now and only in the case of towels and underwear, needing only folding.  Sigh.  I vacuumed yesterday, but as is usually the case, the dogs seem to purposefully shed on the newly hair-free carpet.  I hate this carpet.  I would like to have wood floors.
     I turned on the tv and searched for noninfomercials that may be pleasing to distract me from my to do list or at least allow me to wake a bit before doing something.  I found background noise and went to my facebook.  Renee loves summer.  Hmm... and it is so hot I contemplate a move to Canada or Alaska.  This summer has been a series of plagues and tribulations.  The bees and wasps actually preceded the mosquitos which came in thick following the deluge of rain this summer.  Shortly after the mosquitos, the dragonflies hatched in abundance to eat them.  Poison ivy sprouted early as did my aversion and avoidance of it.  Two weeks ago, (or was it three?) frogs the size of flies jumped to avoid my every step down the driveway.  Yesterday a bat had attached itself to the front of the house.  What next Minnesota?
     I notice guilt in the form of medical bills piling up on the table.  They hide nicely the spot I spilled fingernail polish remover on about a month ago.  Collectors are calling, despite my payments to each of the medical institutions as I am able.  The doctor said I need to stop smoking.  This panics me.  I don't know why.  I am trying to ready myself, but designating a "quit day" is hard for me.  When I tell people, I get advice anywhere from what candy they used to acupuncture.  "Doc Jones" wrote me a prescription for the patch.  No one can tell me how to avoid the emotional crash I experienced the last time I tried.
     Doc Jones is an interesting creature to say the least.  He is a psychiatrist with a plethora of keys on a chain for each institution her serves.  He has an office across from mine though he is scheduled only one day a week there.  He has a fainting couch with blankets in there and an old car or truck door on his wall.  His inherited family doctor bag on the top shelf of his bookcase indicates the title "doc" has also been handed down for generations.  He sports a pony tail in his salt and pepper hair, giving a nod to the early '70s I suppose.  He is always running at 100 mph.  In addition to his psychiatry practice, he has an organic farm.  Who knows where he gets all of the energy to do what he does.  He still dictates his notes, a privilege of his title, I am sure, for the rest of us type our own.  At times he is short and curt, others he is jovial and sarcastic.    
     Yesterday I went to the Celtic Festival put on by Doc Jones at St. Matthias farm here in Brainerd.  It was sparsely populated with what appeared to be some of the more "different" people of the area - me included.  The smell of the peat burning lingered in my nose this morning.  The beer was cheap, but not quite cold enough to have two.  The music was good and two used books relating to Ireland joined my stacks of bills on the coffee table.  There.  Now I don't have to dust.
     After I poured my second cup of yesterday's coffee, I realized I needed to brew another pot for today.  Grumble.  I was not that ambitious.  Fatal loop.  Need liquid ambition to provide ambition for making another pot.  Hmm... I guess I will have to feign ambition for now.
     I know I need to go to work to get my stuff to work at home.  I just don't feel like showering but should in case I run into someone else just as behind in their work as I am.  I have several diagnostic assessments to do.  I get to label people so the insurance companies will pay for their therapy.  My new supervisor insists I write novels for each one as well as their treatment plans.  We get paid for one and one-half hours per DA and nothing for the treatment plan.  Even the most seasoned of therapists spends at least two hours on each.  I have been told there are people with jobs that actually don't spend their days off working.  That sounds wonderful.  I have also been told those hours accruing on my paycheck can be used for vacation.  That's an interesting notion but has a negative impact on productivity.
     I suppose I better get off my couch and be productive today.  I know I can't get caught up, but can pursue being less behind in my work at home and in my profession.  Do I really want to go to law school?  Still thinking about it.  I realize the sooner I start the sooner I will be done.  Right now I need more of a social life, or time occupiers, but can I handle that stress?  Perhaps I will ponder studying for the LSAT and see if it interests me.  They say it isn't what you know, but how you think that will get you through.  Still pondering as I pace through my rut...
 

And the Walls...

Last week I reached my breaking point.  I have been working week after week 6 or 7 days a week.  Easter weekend killed me.  I did not have time to work.  I got behind.  Then a week full of clients in crisis.  Parents who are so focused on themselves they ignore the strangulation marks on the neck of their child who attempted to end it all.

Therapy is tough work.  Tougher yet is the fact that they are turning a therapeutic model of practice into a business, almost production model of practice.  I am scheduled for 4-10 hour days.  Next week I have one free unscheduled hour.  Likely to be filled by a client in crisis.  If all clients show and don't cancel, I will likely meet productivity at the end of the week for the entire month.  For us, it is 23 hours of face time with clients.  It doesn't seem like much when you consider a 40-hour week, but we are required 8 hours a month of meetings with our supervisor and then there is the advanced clinical consult where we review specific troublesome cases with our colleagues.  Between face time with clients and meetings, we are making phone calls, meeting with other professionals, by phone or in person, writing lengthy diagnostic assessments, writing progress notes, and - if we are good - researching evidence based interventions for various diagnoses.

Insurance companies only pay certain amounts.  We get 1.5 hours for a diagnostic assessment which, when you consider the one hour of face time, leaves us .5 hours to review information retrieved from other agencies, enter PHQs, SDQs and CASII's and other measurements to further define our diagnoses, and write the assessment.  Even more fun is that I am on my 3rd clinical supervisor.  Each clinical supervisor has their own method of writing DA's.  Some want every detail and others want bare-boned diagnostic assessments.  Regardless, our overseer, the Department of Health and Human Services, has requirements that need to be met.  Basically with our assessments we need to establish a case for why our clients require therapy.  Suicidal clients make this easy for us.  Clients who wish to improve their marriage or otherwise work on their relationships make this more difficult.  We have to establish MEDICAL NECESSITY.  Sometimes this is difficult.

Last week I had 5 intakes.  Intakes usually require diagnostic assessments.  Even the best and most seasoned therapists admit that diagnostic assessments take them at least 2 hours outside of face time with clients.  I also had phone calls with clients' parents, school counselors, referrals to additional services, difficulties with the software we use for our documentation, meetings with guardian ad litems, reviewing additional court documentation, crises that require additional attention beyond the session and informal consult with fellow therapists on our clients.  My official work day ends at 7.  Some of my cases are so sick and twisted that I am affected by them.  Since I am the last therapist in the office I don't have anyone to debrief with.  Debriefing is so important when you are dealing with the mentally ill.  It helps so you don't take it on personally.  I don't usually have this opportunity since my day ends later than the other therapists.

So, there is a great deal of stress.  Then, our CEO, or whatever his title is, tells us that we have to meet productivity.  One of the clinical directors sent out an e-mail earlier this year stating if we don't meet productivity, we can lose our FTE (full-time employee) status.  This means we would be reduced to 32 hour status, lower pay and less availability for our clients.  I don't think we have any therapists that can possibly have openings in their schedule.  Where the problem lies is in meetings, trainings and cancellations.  We have no control over clients canceling.  This affects our productivity.  Next week I will be in the cities for 4 days for DBT training.  This training is to fill a need the agency has for people to work with clients with Borderline Personality Disorder.  These clients are referred to DBT groups facilitated by professionals and require a DBT therapist.  We have had therapists leave or quit doing DBT because of the intensity and extra (non-productivity) time required.  So, I lose 4 days of productivity.

In order to keep up on my paperwork, I now work Fridays, Saturdays and sometimes (like today) Sundays.  Since I am salary, I don't get reimbursed for this.  My pay is very low for a therapist since I am not independently licensed.  I need to supplement my income somehow.  This will probably involve working nights and weekend beyond my normal night and weekend work.  I am looking for something within my field to do this, since I think if my clients see me working at McDonald's it may affect my credibility.

Truth is, the bills are not getting paid.  I am getting notices from various medical providers threatening to turn the bills over to collections.  I did my taxes this weekend hoping I would get a substantial refund and this was not the case.

In summary, I am stressed out!  I am getting burned out at my job and now know I need to get another job to make ends meet.  I get angry with people who have taken money from me and still sleep at night!  A couple of weeks ago I learned that Brian closed my line of credit and overdraft protection account.  I was the primary account holder and was told he could not do this.  I will be changing banks soon, as soon as I have time!  When I work 8-7 M-Thursday and Fridays as well, there is not much time to call my creditors or stop in and close my accounts.  The line of credit could have helped with medical bills.  And then I get angry with the residual people who "don't have a problem with him" and continue to have their profile photos adorning his facebook page as friends and "like" his relationship with his new girlfriend living in the home I raised my children in.

Also stressful is that after working this week Monday -Thursday 8-7, I have to go down to MPLS for another procedure to burn my esophagus.  I am more anxious about this after having the last procedure and being unable to eat for 2 weeks.  I will stay with Renee overnight and head back to Brainerd on Saturday to pack for my 4-day training.

One big factor determining the success of our clients is their support system.  When I apply that to myself, I realize that I may have made a big mistake in moving to Brainerd.  I moved away from friends and family that were my support system.  I have a good number of friends here, but they are in different places in their lives, busy with families, children, schools, etc.

There is also the adage that you can't go back.  In several ways I found the truth of this statement when I went back for Easter.  The best part was that Mom remembered me.  The drive down is long and tiring.  It is about 7 and 1/2 hours to get to Sioux City.  I have difficulty with my "excessive daytime sleepiness" a.k.a narcolepsy and fight falling asleep anyway, but driving makes this worse.  I just can't do it.  When staying at Becky's I realized that I likely placed a wedge between myself and her family over Thanksgiving when I expressed my concern about the amount of stress and work she does with little help from Jeff or Hannah.  Jeff was either sleeping or gone the entire time I was there.  I get it.  Shut up Ande.  Don't worry about Becky and the burden she has that will take its toll on her.  I admire her, but I also realize her family has it easy by not helping her with even household tasks.  And I know she can't keep this up without it affecting her.  I also was mistaken in thinking my return might be special enough to prompt a visit by my brother and his family.  I could not take Monday off so I could be with my family on Easter Sunday because I have to meet productivity this month even with 4 days of training!  It is one day of driving each way. I have Fridays off, but then I don't get paperwork done and fall further behind if I am gone.

I Skype with Dad every Sunday.  This will keep us close.  Becky and I talk on the phone and that will keep us close.  I know I am the one who moved away and have accepted it is likely no one will visit me here.  I feel bad that I cannot return often.  Thanksgiving will likely be my next visit if I come then.  It is really dangerous for me to drive that long alone.   Maybe if I find someone willing to switch off driving with me I will be back more.  Right now, I have to say it is simply not likely I will return for some time.  It sounds like Mom is fading again, and perhaps it is best that I remember the her I saw on Easter.  I am so happy she held out that long.

In summation, I feel I am falling apart and running low on outlets and supports.  I realize this, too, shall pass.  I just wish it would hurry in its passing.

A Disturbing Dream

So I had a dream.  Not the MLK type.  I just wonder what Freud would have said about this one:

I was at my house in Sioux Falls collecting the remainder of my belongings.  Brian and his new girlfriend were allowing me to have whatever they did not want of my stuff - which is what happened in reality.  I was going through everything and found what was left was broken.  I was sifting tearfully through my broken and destroyed belongings and getting angry.  As I sorted, I kept seeing this large rack of cookie sheets full of pretty little cupcakes that Brian's girlfriend and her daughter were planning on eating.Brian's girlfriend would occasionally shout when I found something intact that I could not have it.  I looked around and saw salt and pepper shakers.  I waited until no one was watching me and sprinkled salt on the pretty little cupcakes.

Strange.

Pain

I have debated about writing about this for quite awhile.  I need to get it out and let it go.

In the summer of 2008 Brian and I were having problems.  He was seeing a woman from work and denied it - they were just friends.  Women are usually right when they get the sense their significant other is seeing someone else.  I admit, I invaded his privacy and went on his phone where I found x-rated pictures he had sent to her.  Strange friendship.  We took a trip to Bemidji shortly after this dispute.  While in Bemidji, Brian got drunk.  He verbally attacked me and my children.  It was verbal, but I felt it physically all over my body.  I cried so hard I puked.  My world, as shaky as it was anyway, was dark and murky.  I felt like escaping my body, but could not escape it or my thoughts.  No one had ever attacked me so vehemently.  I left him in bed the next morning as I packed all of my stuff to leave.  Despite my tip-toeing around, he awoke.  He begged me not to leave him there.  At that point I did not care how he got back.  Somehow, I don't know quite what he said, he talked me into not leaving him there.

Brian stopped seeing this woman.  Perhaps it was because his boss fired her - likely because his boss liked me and was upset about this relationship.  We went back to working on us.

One of the things that we both enjoyed was the Minnesota northwoods.  Particularly around the Ely area.  Brian had been saying that he wanted to move up there, and had interviewed up there for a job eventually.  I was concerned about family, especially his parents, since their health was declining.  Brian was set on leaving.  We would go back and forth about it and he said that I would never move.  He had interviewed for a job and was in contact with other job possibilities, but I had not.  He did not think I was committed to moving there.  I wanted to wait until Ben was out of school and in college at the very earliest and thought it would be better for him to wait until Jessica was graduated.  In early 2009 I had two acceptances to grad school.  One was for Vermillion for a PsyEd degree and the other was for the Social Work program in Duluth.  Brian urged me to go to Duluth.

I left for Duluth the day after we moved Ben to Vermillion to begin his college experience.  Brain said he would be up to see me often because he loves the area.  This did not prove to be the case.  In fact, shortly after I left for Duluth he began another relationship with another woman.  I did not find this out until Thanksgiving, I believe.  Jess and Brian got in a fight and she told me about it to hurt him.  To make matters worse, Brian completely dismantled Ben's bed and moved everything of his into my office.  Great!  Now Ben had nowhere to stay when he came back for college.  I was heartbroken.  Ben said he would just stay with his dad.  Ouch.  I love my kids and looked forward to seeing my kids when I was back.

By the time I was back for Christmas, the woman Brian was seeing broke up with him.  I was still angry with him and he expected me to be nice to him because he was devastated by his recent break up.  Another new development that began was the blame for everything Jess did.  I began hearing from both Brian and Jess that she was good before I came back, but was having poor behaviors when I returned.  Each time this occurred, I eventually found out she was acting out all along while I was gone.  I was a convenient scapegoat.  This was crazy-making.

By Thanksgiving 2010, Brian was back to attempting to get me back.  He bought me a new phone and stated he wanted to move up with me when I graduated and got a job.  He was ready to leave Sioux Falls and get away from Jess and his ex and the insanity that seemed to be their creation.  I hadn't decided if I would agree to that.  My choice was once again beside the point.  By Christmas 2010, Brian was seeing another woman.  He had invited me to a party of one of his work friends that I knew.  When it came time for the party, Brian uninvited me.  He had been acting odd all the time I was back.  He always took his phone with him.  He was texting frequently while I was there.  He came home late from work and was emotionally distant.

I was depressed.  The reason I attended school in Duluth was gone.  I had been trained in Minnesota child welfare laws and programs.  Much of this information would have to be replaced if I moved back. I was depressed.  I couldn't bring myself to do my homework in the last semester.  I was more depressed than I had ever been.  I began therapy and after working with my therapist for a few months, was finally able to get a semester's worth of homework done in 2 weeks.  I guess I would graduate after all.

Brian and I had put the house on the market.  The fair market value was $109,900.  The market was slow in Sioux Falls.  Brian and I discussed a settlement if the house did not sell.  There was $59,000 in equity on the house, with no liens on it.  Brian had only been making payments on the house since I left for Duluth.  Before that I made the house payment, utility payments, groceries, etc.  He had child support and car payments for his vehicle.  Basically, the equity was all mine.  Brian agreed to take out a loan to pay the me the equity if the house did not sell by May 1st.  By May 1st, the house did not sell.  Brian decided not to take a loan out.  He told me to rent a place.  I looked at rentals, but could not find one that would take 3 dogs.  It looked like I had to buy.  We argued on the phone, over and over.  Finally he said he could pay me $18,000 until the house sold.  But I would have to sign a quit claim deed, relinquishing my ownership on the house.  I told him I would do so if he promised he would pay the rest when the house was sold.  He agreed.

He took the house off the market in the fall.  By that time, his girlfriend and her daughter were living there.  He told me he would shut off my phone.  He said I could not go into the house for the rest of my stuff.  I had to tell him what I wanted.  I fought him on that and asked for my money since now they were all living there and the house was no longer on the market.  He refused.  He said he would never pay me the rest of my money.  So, he bought the house I raised my children in, built years of equity in, and remodeled over the years for $68,000 when it was valued at $109,900.  He somehow doesn't have a problem with that.  On top of that, I requested some of my stuff back.  One of the things was a wicker chair that my sons' grandmother gave me.  I had painted it, and reupholstered the chair.  It had been out on the porch.  When I asked for it back, he told me I could not have it because his girlfriend wanted it.  That made me mad.  This had nothing to do with her.  He had no right.  He also said he did not have my missing sapphire ring that had been in the jewelry box on the dresser.  I am assuming his girlfriend wanted that as well.

Okay, let us summarize:  Brian repeatedly cheated on me and made my life hell.  I would still be living around my family if it weren't for my proving to him I was committed to living with him by attending grad school in Minnesota.  I lost opportunities to see Ben when he was back from school, because he no longer had a place to stay with us.  I was cheated out of $41,000 from my house.  I gave 11 years of my life to this man.  I can't have any of my stuff that his girlfriend wants.  (I still have stuff over there).  

If anyone did anything like this to my family members, I would be livid.  Oddly enough, I hear from some of my family members, "I don't have a problem with him".  Really?  You don't consider anything he did to me or my children a problem?  Is that how we support each other?!  Recently I noticed that some of my family have "liked" his engagement on facebook.  If this all had happened to anyone in my family, I really would either have a lot to say, or nothing at all.  I certainly wouldn't consider myself his "friend" on facebook or anywhere else where obviously this would hurt.  But maybe you do have a problem with me?!

This was hard to write.  I got mad when I first heard that there was "no problem with him" and again when I saw the responses on facebook and decided not to say anything about it for 24 hours.  I have had to wait many more 24 hours.  Apparently my hurt is not going away anytime soon.