Sunday, August 29, 2021
I finally started spraying the weeds with vinegar. I see them every day; they accused me of neglect. I made sure I got it done early in the morning. It clouds over by 11 each day, followed by some form of rain, from a light sprinkle to a torrential downpour.
As I napped, I experienced pain in my left leg and right foot. Then my left foot started to complain. The left leg discomfort was old and familiar. The connection to the problems I had been having with my right foot was interesting. I interpreted all this as a positive sign; something new was happening. Change is good, well, sometimes.
I tried to record the last slide for my reading method video. I made one that I thought I would be pleased with but never showed up in Zoom. I must not have pressed record. I did it again late in the afternoon. But didn't dare to view it to make sure it was okay.
Adolescent D hadn't signed in by 3:01. In his case, I always called because there is a good chance he'd forgotten. He signed in while I was calling. His voice was unclear. It sounds like it was vibrating. I complained about it several times. He told me he was in the car going to Home Depot. Huh? I didn't get this family. Why was he going to Home Depot when he had an appointment with me? He may not have told his mother, who was driving, that he had changed the appointment. I told him to call me when he got home.
My phone didn't always ping when I got a text; it didn't always ring when I got a call. I should get this checked. I was putting off doing something else, waiting for adolescent D to let me know he was home. I was about to call and ask for a specific time so that I could organize my day. I found four texts from him asking me to send him a new link. I called him and sent one immediately.
I reviewed her and here with him. Here was the first word he encountered, and he read it as her. I went back to articulating the difference between the two words. He varied the descriptive words but always accurately described the difference. I don't know if varying the words was beneficial or created more confusion.
I asked him if he wanted to work on his perfectionism. He said yes. At least he knew this was a disaster. I can't think of a situation where perfectionism doesn't lead to unhappiness. Pursuing perfection can be a worthy goal, but it has to be accompanied by the acceptance that achieving it is impossible. It's a paradox.
I couldn't think of a direction to move it. I knew things I could do or get D to do, but I always listen to my 'inner voice'. I do not know the source of it, but so far, it has served me well. D is very passive and vague. When I asked him if he wanted to do something, he would give me a vague noncommittal response, "I suppose so." I wouldn't tolerate that anymore. He had to develop the ability to set his own goals and his boundaries. At one point, I told him I wouldn't going to break through his barriers to 'cure' him. I don't know if that ever works, but I do know I don't want to operate that way.
I drew a circle and put his 'wound' in the middle. I explained to him that I don't believe in the value of targeting that core point. I believe feelings can kill you. Either way, I wouldn't do it. I think we all construct our psyches with layers of defense. If we want to get through those layers, we must find the outermost layer, resolve that, and move in progressively, one layer at a time. I drew some concentric circles around the core spot. My intuition said I hadn't drawn enough circles to represent D's layers of defense. I stopped at layer twelve or thirteen. Wow! That he was defended wasn't a surprise, that he was that defended did. This is a child who will not allow me to see his face on Zoom. He is very protected.
After meditating on those layers for a while, I got it. I saw 'it," what D's defenses were about. I got something that felt right and true for me; I couldn't be positive that I was correct. I saw that he gave no information about himself to anyone; therefore, no one knew/knows who he was. People can walk right through him. I 'saw' that he sees this world as a very dangerous place. I assured him it was as if he didn't define his boundaries. If he pretended to have no needs and be invisible, people wouldn't know where to stop. They would move through him as if he were a ghost; he would be without substance. If he behaved that way, the world would be dangerous, very dangerous. I asked him if he knew his own needs and wants. He said no. I told him that was step one; he had to identify his needs and wants for himself. Did he want to do a particular activity? Did he want to be sitting on the other side of the room? Did he like what he was eating? Anything, anything. How could he expect anyone else to know who he was if he didn't know? Let's see where this goes.
I know other people who operate this way. Hate it in them. I can work with such a person in healing, but I can't have them in my private life. In open-ended social situations, my openness and friendliness scare the hell out of those people, and their behavior scares the hell out of me. I feel like I'm in free fall. It's horrible.
In the healing context, I can do okay with them. They, their needs, are the sole focus of our contact. There is nothing mutual about it. It's all about their boundaries. I ask them if it's okay to proceed every few minutes. On a rate of one to ten, how do you feel about this activity? In this context, I check for their boundaries every minute. I have boundaries, but they're not personal. My boundaries are all about what I will tolerate in the healer role. There are things I won't tolerate. Clients can refuse to do something I suggest, and I can refuse to allow clients to do things I think will not be helpful or downright counterproductive. This system works well for me. I feel it protects me from doing harm.
The other night, I went to bake some spring rolls in the toaster oven and found the baking pan missing. There were only three places it could be, in the toaster oven, in the sink, or the dishwasher/ drying rack. It wasn't in any of those places. I could only imagine that Yvette had come up to borrow it and hadn't told me. However, that seemed highly unlikely on both counts, that she would borrow it and that she wouldn't tell me. It was a disturbing event.
Today I finally remember a fourth location, however unlikely it might be- in the oven. I have used it once since Mike's death. I baked a frozen eggplant Parmesan. It had to be 6 inches from the heating element. The toaster oven wasn't large enough, so I used the regular oven. There was the baking pan. Ah!
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