Heartbreak

I was sitting with a few kids yesterday and one of them says,
"I wish I had a dad"
After a few seconds he says, "You guys, I'm going to say something weird but please don't laugh." The other kids were absorbed in the television. "L, I'm going to say something promise you won't laugh!!"
L: "Ok I won't laugh"
He paused. Took a breath.
"When I was a baby my dad went to jail and that's why I don't have a dad anymore"
L: "That's not funny" (bonus points for the right response, L)

It kind of broke my heart. I wished I could give him a dad, but that's the problem. There's only one person in the world who can do that.

Keeps me motivated to do my volunteer work with these people
www.childrensjusticealliance.org

they're pretty awesome.

Oxygen, and the choice to breathe it

It’s been a few months now, and my perspective isn’t quite as ‘green’ as it was. Of course, there will always be new challenges and surprises, but at least for now I’ve found a comfort zone within the company. I survived my first “sink or swim” moment and managed to tread, though I did get some water up my nose ;) That incident, as well as my conversations with the kids since that time, has really honed my understanding of two concepts that I think hallmark passage into cognitive maturity.

Consciousness and choice.

We all have blind spots to our personality, as Johari’s window taught us all, but have you ever wondered just how ‘blind’ you really are? Kids classically have a huge blind spot when it comes to self-concept and reality, just ask Piaget.

Some clients respond to everything with “I don’t know”. They use learned helplessness as a defense mechanism against being wrong and getting punished. They are not conscious to the reality that their environment has changed, and they are now in a “sink or swim” scenario. From birth they were taught, “If I pretend to be drowning, someone will save me”.

Some of them have distorted ideas of what it means to be in a loving relationship with someone. Scratch that, all of them do. Whether it be a single letter from a long lost relative sending a kid into weeks of hysterics over what to write back, or a kid who just left the program calling us nine days later to tell us they’re engaged to someone they just met. A little bit of attachment is a big attachment to them; they cling desperately to anything they can get their hands on. They are not conscious to the process of relationship development in a world without hurt, abuse, and neglect.

Some of them cannot conceptualize that the wind cannot, in fact, attempt to “intentionally piss [you] off”.

It feels like I am constantly failing in my attempts to bring them into the conscious world. Who wants to break it to a kid that their new “grandparent” might not be a good influence on them? Or that one letter might be all they get?

Balancing the fine line between having faith in humanity and making sure reality is still in sight is a constant struggle. One in which most of us fail, one way or the other, most of the time.

It also makes me question my own consciousness. Who am I trying to be, and how is that different from who I am? Am I aware of this difference? What am I blind to? What can I do to be more aware of exactly the person I am?

If you ever want a total mind trip, take a social psychology class (from a good professor). It will cause you to question every belief you were ever taught, every tradition instilled in you, and everything you thought you knew about the social world. When you start to see where the things you "know" come from, how much more "objectively correct" are they than what these kids know? What my dad taught me, and what his dad taught him may be worlds apart, but they are still concreted into the foundations of our concept of self and knowledge of the world with the exact same solidity and effect on our futures.

Just as with us, it takes a mountain of effort to pull us out of our ways of thinking and to conceptualize in a different light.

Which leads me to topic two: Choice.

To be continued…..Muahaha.

(Also on the docket: the spectrum, how different are bottom feeders from fishermen?)

Sink or Swim

Well, today I just finished my last “observation shift” for my Youth Treatment Specialist (YTS) position – from now on, I’m on my own. Actually in charge of something, actually responsible for decisions that need to be made, in part responsible for the lives of several emotionally disturbed children.

When you take psychology classes, the first thing they tell you is, be ready for ambiguity. A lot of psychology is asking why we do things, how we do things, and if that makes us unique as individuals, a culture, or a species. Most of the time, there’s no clear cut answers; Plenty of theories, but none *quite* right. Nothing to satisfy the innate sense of curiosity that comes along with a natural tendency towards studying human beings. If you cannot stand an inability to answer your many questions, psychology simply isn’t the field for you.

Man. How that plays out in the real world is beyond complicated. You think it only applies to the big theories, and stays within the classroom walls. Oh no friend, it is so much more – so every-day, all-consuming, life-changingly much more.

The first part of an observation shift you usually have a little down time, so you sit and do some file reading. Learning backgrounds, disabilities, and behavioral tendencies is a big part of succeeding when you interact with the kids. I did ok on the first two shifts. This last one really got to me though. Maybe it was because it was girls, so it was easier to put myself in their place. It broke my heart to read what had happened to some of these kids. It broke my heart to know that this type of thing wasn’t in movies or books because it was the outlier – using the most dramatic and obscene cases to make money – but that it happens all the time. It happens often enough to fill group hopes in every county, with kids who will struggle for the rest of their lives due largely to the actions of others. With kids whose disabilities would cause them to act in ways that perpetuates the cycle – hurting others in the ways they were hurt. When they’re lucid, of course they would never wish their lot in life on anyone else. But I think there’s a place that you go to when you’ve seen abuse…a place where that rationality just can’t get through. It’s about survival. It’s about finding an ounce of freedom for yourself somewhere, no matter the cost.

And then there’s the flip side. Their past causes them to hurt other people. Whether it is people in their family, people in their past, another member of the group home or you (right here, right now) – the actions of these kids can have dire consequences. Veterans like to weed out newbies who aren’t fit for the job by sharing battle scars at the end of a shift. Stories of people losing teeth, getting stabbed, breaking bones, and various other hospital-worthy offenses clearly communicates to the fresh meat that this is not a job for the faint of heart. These kids can be malicious, and they have no qualms about taking you out. We know where it comes from, but sometimes in the moment, it just seems so……evil.

But I guess that makes perfect sense – evil perpetuates. Is it their fault? In most ways, no. (In case you haven’t noticed yet, my vote is emphatically, “nurture”). Yet, it’s our job to make sure they learn to take responsibility for it. Working their asses off to correct problems most of them didn’t bring on themselves, in order to stop the cycle of abuse and neglect. In order to stop the evil. Most YTS will tell you we have the hardest job in the world, describing it as “raising other people’s behaviorally disturbed kids”. I think these kids have the hardest jobs in the world, and they don’t all succeed.

Ambiguity. I don’t want to punish you, because I know what’s happened to you. But if I don’t, you won’t ever know how to behave properly, and you’ll probably hurt someone else. It’s not your fault, but you still get to pay for it. You still get to be the one who pays the dues that the person before you didn’t – which is why you’re here to begin with. It’s so unfair, it’s so difficult to balance empathy and diligence. Realism, and wanting to give everything you have to be the ‘mom’ they need.

“sink or swim” they warned me today – either you can do it, or you can’t. It’s not like a test, where you can probably tell someone beforehand what grade you’ll most likely get, and you know well in advance when it’s coming. Or a paper, where you get to see your work before it gets handed in. This is real life. It happens whenever it wants, and your reaction has to be split-second, factoring in a thousand variables and praying to God you don’t get it wrong.

Right now, waiting for that first moment, that first test to know whether or not I can really do it is so nerve-wracking. I’m on the raft, it’s got a leak, and there are swimmers all around me coaching me for the eventual plunge. When that moment comes precisely, no one knows for sure.

Sink or swim? Hold your breath – only time will tell.

Have a Little Faith...

As many may have witnessed, I was stressing about finding a job most of this semester. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do, nor where I would be able to do it. The stress of the possibility of relocation loomed over my head, and I felt a need to “prove” that spending four years of my life and thousands of dollars on an education hadn’t gone to waste.

I got a job, three weeks ago, for a marketing company in Tigard. It wasn’t ideal, I’d be spending the first six months doing painstaking jobs like peddling office supplies door-to-door. But it was a job, and three weeks before graduation, something I just didn’t feel right turning down. The pay was decent, and advancement likely, so I figured I could suck it up for awhile. Everyone pays their dues, right?

The following days after accepting the job I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I already hated my job, and I hadn’t even started it yet. I wanted to call and quit. I had almost convinced myself, when I got a phone call from another job application that I had submitted online.

I hadn’t bothered to follow up on the job, after all, it was only five hours a week and I wanted it as an accessory, not my main source of income. I figured working as a supervised visitation facilitator would look good on a grad school resume should I choose to go, so I could work those 5-10 hours a week in on the side.

I dressed for the interview and went in ready to give it my best shot, even though it was only a 5-10 hour a week job. Perhaps it paid a lot and would provide some nice auxiliary funds. As I sat down prepared once more to sing my own praises and smile and nod a lot, a funny thing happened. Tara asked, “Now, we’ve been interviewing for a few different positions lately, which one are you here for?” My mind flashed back to the background research I’d done on the company, remembering another full-time position they had offered on their website.

“well…technically I’m here for the supervised visitation facilitation position, but I’d love to be considered for the youth treatment specialist position as well…”

Such a simple side-note, and yet it changed my entire plan. After an amazing hour long interview, I knew I had found a place where I could grow and belong. A place where I could apply the psychology and communication skills I had been working on, and that would look awesome on my resume for grad school. I could work with kids, learn the ins and outs of a non-profit, and whittle out where I really belonged in grad school.

So my “something new” is about to be a lot of “something news” – off on a new job, in a new apartment, with no school waiting in the relatively near future.

The something new I learned last week was to have a little faith. Things work out, and with a little hard work we end up where we are meant to be.

Stuck on 2nd Street - a metaphor

I took my first run of the Spring the other day and decided it was a good opportunity to do some exploring. Last Fall, my friend Kyle and I discovered a path that runs through the neighborhoods behind my apartment complex. We stumbled upon it, ran the course of it, and ended up about 200 yards down the same road where we had found the entry. As the rainy season set in, we never ventured the trail again and I was left wondering: Where does that trail really start?

So, my first venture outdoors was in pursuit of some answers to questions which had been in hibernation over the winter. I weaved my way through the neighborhoods in the hopes that my visual memory would bring me to a mid-section of the path. Success! I turned right, in order to find the first end of the trail and in a matter of minutes was at the dead end that Kyle and I had encountered months ago – a nowhere-nook along 2^nd street.

Pulling a one-eighty, I traced the path though back yards and small community parks. I saw THE coolest back yard I have ever seen – a basketball court, hot tub, jungle gym, and trampoline?! Lucky, lucky kids. I didn’t let it slow me for too long, and ventured on to the sweet tunes of Justin Timberlake.

It was a great way to ease back into running, and I’ve definitely found a new favorite “Zen place”. However, I was struck by the layout of the trail - it seemed aimless. It didn’t start anywhere significant, or end anywhere distinct. It wound its way through different settings, along a creek, past yards of all shapes and sizes, but at the end of the journey, you find yourself barely displaced from where you started. I felt like it was a metaphor for my life right now. “Stuck on 2^nd Street”, looking for a new path in life; Location TBD.

(Another “something new” I’ve begun by default: learning to read sports articles. Check out the work of a pretty awesome guy I know - http://www.ncaa.com/sports/m-golf/spec-rel/040210aac.html Definitely teaching me to appreciate how many details sports fans master!)

Twitter-ate Tuesday

As I was so pleasantly reminded by the birds outside my window this morning, this week’s self assignment was to make myself a Twitter. *oi* After sifting my way through a plethora of marketing job offers, I realized that being at least twitter-ate is a necessary evil of the business. I faced my fears of the power of the internet in the hands of narcissists, and bit the behind-the-times bullet that is inevitable when you finally start a mode of social networking that everyone had ages ago.

My biggest reservation about getting a Twitter was just re-iterated by one of my best friends, and I quote:

“I love you. You are not cool enough to have a Twitter.”

I have no doubt he’s right, and that’s exactly what always stopped me before. Creating something that had the sole purpose of sending out frequent tidbits of information to others carries with it the implication,

‘I think that what I think is cool’.

Iiiiiiiitt’s not so much that I don’t think I’m ‘cool’…more that I recognize that I am far more entertaining to a select few than I would be to the masses. Perhaps it’s an insecurity that I would try and fail. People with something to sell, however, do think they’re cool, and want you to know how to yack about it to potential purchasers. With the new theme of discovery propelling me to forge ahead, I set aside my hesitation about my ability to ‘tweet’ in harmony with my peers and surrendered my personal information to the Man (or…Bird?) in exchange for an account.

Awkwardly poking my way around, I couldn’t help but adopt the voice of my grandmother in my inner monologue. “What does THAT do?” “I don’t know what all these new-fangled words mean…” (Actually, that voice serves as my narrator more often than I should admit….whoops).

So far I’m not entirely turned off. I mean, I have a nice little red leaf in my background, AND Rainn Wilson tweeted a joke that made me chuckle. Perhaps I shall survive this venture after all.

One Small Step for Man…

I can only equate it to the feeling you get as a kid, when you see the school bus rumbling up your hill for the first time as the summer comes to a close. “Practice runs” they called them. As the yellow-monstrosity you’ll be greeting five mornings a week for the next year rumbles noisily past your front yard, the OtterPop in your hand turns sour and a cloud blocks out the sun – its coming. School. They’re practicing for it.

Ironically, I get a similar feeling in my stomach when I imagine the antithesis of this: Graduation. Though there is still time before that fateful day, it is close enough that I am beginning to feel the weight of responsibility that will come to me on that day. Having completed four years of higher education, I am now on my own. I now have the faculties to find a job and a place to live, to provide my own food and transportation, to build relationships, and become a responsible member of society.

Yet, this process of entering into a new phase of life has brought with it a lot of questions. What do I really want to do? What can I already do? Will what I can do, take me to what I want to do? How do I get there? When? So on and so forth to the point where you almost forget you still have classes to finish. “Senioritis” in this case has brought a keen awareness of the unknown that awaits me after those final steps across the graduation stage.

Through transferring schools, European adventures and internships in both churches and prisons, I’ve learned how to jump into an unknown situation with both feet. Through insecurities about specific job skills– as a Communications major, my latest mantra has been “I can do everything. And absolutely nothing” – and reading job description after job description, I’m learning to adapt to this next adventure, and embrace with it all of the “new” that comes along with it.

Such is the purpose of this blog – to embrace the adventure, and start me on my way towards however life decides to RSVP (thanks for the catch phrase, AP). You’ll get updates on how the job hunt is going, as well as reports on recent explorations into new things (cooking, new restaurants, new movies and new getaways) in order to develop a bit of a “writing sample” for future employers to take a gander at.

The name of the blog, “Treading the Soil of the Moon” came from a quotation I found while perusing sayings on “discovery” and “exploration” for a little garnish alongside my own words on the matter.

“Treading the soil of the moon, palpitating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one's stomach the separation from terra - these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known”

~ Vladimir Nabokov

I not only enjoyed Mr. Nabokov’s eloquence, but I found it to be an image I could identify with. Taking a step out of what you know, onto unknown soil, where new and exhilarating sensations abound. As usual, I’ll employ yet another quotation, to bring us home:

“The path to our destination is not always a straight one. We go down the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back. Maybe it doesn’t matter which road we embark on. Maybe what matters is that we embark”

~ Barbara Hall, Northern Exposure