I drove straight home because I had an appointment with Shelly, my therapist, now life-coach. I would have liked to have had the time to do some chores but had to race. I showered and got dressed. Ten o’clock came and went. She had forgotten to mark our appointment time for our last session. I wondered what had gone wrong now. At 11 am, the phone rang; it was Shelly. I had made the appointment for eleven just so I could do some chores in town before I went home, and then I forgot I had done that.
When I pulled into the driveway, I found myself thinking I would love it if Mike were home. I believe this is the first time I felt I missed him that way. I’ve been missing myself in the context of him, but it hasn’t felt like I missed him, just his presence for its own sake. Have I mentioned how much I loved that man? I was more comfortable with him than I have ever been with any other human being on the planet. Our differences were resolved, smoothed over, or sufficiently covered over out of respect for each other to make us, well me, totally comfortable. I miss that comfort. It means I’m never truly relaxed around another human being. I was so proud of him too. I had always been proud of him, mostly because I saw him as a moral person who always did his best. I loved bragging about him. I was so lucky that he plucked me out of the bin and said, “ You’re the one I want.” That’s how it all happened. He had made up his mind, and he pursued me. That was no easy task. I was skittish.
Most of the session was talking about telling stories and not doing any work. I shared my disappointment with the response to the blog posts. While 250 people checked it out in the beginning, it’s down to one viewing a day. It’s probably the same person. I hope it isn’t someone who’s doing this just so I don’t feel bad. I want to be relevant, but I may have to live with the fact that I’m not.
The same goes for my educational work. I’m told I’m a miracle worker, but no one shows an interest in learning what I do. Some of it is cutting edge, the BrainManagementSkills, where I show children how to use their brains differently, not through some educational exercise, but by directly referring to parts of the brain. Yes, it’s different, but it is also easy.
I got some clarity on what it is that I may do that is different recently. One of the school personnel frequently walks past me while I work with the children. She came up to me to thank me for what I did with the kids. I asked her if she knew the result of my work. She said no; she just observed how I paid attention to them. I think I know what the difference is. Most teachers listen to hear how the student’s answer will compare to the one they ‘know’ is right. I listen because whatever their response is, it will give me information about how they think. I can confirm the value of what they do, show them the best circumstances for using it, and show them how to modify their thinking in situations where they are currently having problems.
Also, much of my diagnostic work involves asking the students what they think the problem is. Yes, often, the students give me answers that are too broad, much as the teachers do. Then I narrow it down. If the problem is with word recognition, I’ll ask them if their problem with figuring out words you don’t know or remembering words you see a lot. The questions vary depending on the problem and subject matter. I find students have a lot of information about their own functioning. Also, in asking these questions, I direct them to pay attention to how they function. I help them become aware of what they do and let them know that they can make changes.
When working with Shelly, I had to admit that I also tend to blow them off and give some flippant answer when someone asks me what I do. I felt that what lies beneath that attitude is a rage I don’t want to feed. If people see I’m right, I think it will release a fury I’m not interested in living with. I’m as sure as I can be this is a response to my mother’s continually telling me that no one wanted to hear what I had to say and that I was wrong about everything. Having people affirm me will release that suppressed rage. Yikes! I would rather die unrecognized than see myself turn into a monster.
On the other hand, I feel terrible. I have had so much success with my methods; it feels like a crime to not share them. I will have to resolve this before I can share my methods with others. I deal so much better being told I’m wrong than being told I’m right. It’s like Briar Rabbit being thrown in the briar patch; that’s where I was raised.
The rest of the day was devoted to washing and ironing. I did contact my garage because the maintenance light was flickering on. Strange. I just had a complete service done at the end of January. This can’t be right. There may be another problem with the car, or it may just be a problem with the light.
Judy called to tell me that it looked like her poodle’s foot problem was just an irritation. She has a black poodle, and for some reason, these dogs are vulnerable to foot tumors just because they’re black. It sounds odd to me that their color would have so much bearing. Judy said there are several breeds of black dogs that have the same problem.
I texted my financial advisor and told him that I was not in a panic, and he was to follow what Mike would have done. When the market dipped, he always thought, “What a good time to buy more stocks.” I’m not panicking because there’s nothing to be done. If the market is going to tank, there is no place to run and hide. It’s all lost anyway. We’re all in for the same ride.
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