Sunday, January 30, 2022

 Sunday, January 30, 2022

   Oh, boy, did I have a rough morning! I had visions of adolescent D’s new tutor getting all the credit and praise for adolescent D’s progress. I think he is on the verge of making his progress public at school. I believe she has inspired him in some way. He sounded energized in a way I had never heard before after he saw her. Is she young, an inspiration for any 15-year-old? Is it an opportunity for him to see himself as an improved reader with someone who never knew him when? She didn’t have time to impact his skills. Also, the new tutor is a school hire, more official than I am. I’m just someone mom hired. What does she know? While that may be true, I am highly qualified. As one of my old colleagues from Licking Heights put it, “I’m ahead of my time.”  

      This boy has processing problems in every cognitive area: auditory (he couldn’t hear the individual sounds), visual (He could not visualize letters.), memory (both short term and long term), and attention. It wasn’t a trifecta; it was a quartrofecta. While his reading has only improved a little, he has made enormous progress. 

    I’m okay not getting recognition for my work when I’m part of something. When I was volunteering at the local school, one of the teachers I worked with came up to me and told me that she felt she had no idea how to teach reading and was thinking of studying an Orton Gillingham program. I didn’t bat an eye. I wasn’t particularly hurt. Even though I had done amazing work with several of her kids, it never occurred to ask her what I had done. She even knew that I had developed a method. Had she tried my program and concluded it was not for her would be one thing, but she didn’t even do that. I am sure she meant no harm. She was a lovely lady, just a little dense. 

    I read that most innovators have support from peers. They are part of a collective effort. Like the modern painters in Paris at the turn of the last century, they find each other. They hung out together. Yes, they were also rivals, but they supported each other and comforted each other. I have no one. I have a few people who think my work is good, but they’re not doing something different on their own. Having followers is better than nothing, but it’s not the same as being part of a pack. Humans are social animals. I need my group. Now, I have no one. When Mike was alive, I could come home, curl up in his arms, and it would be fine. It wasn’t everything I wanted, but it was enough to keep me going. 

     Without Mike, I have fallen into a pit of despair. My heart hurts so much. The pressure in my chest concerned me. Might there be something physical going on with my heart? Yvette was out of town, and Josh had a broken ankle. I was on my own. I noted where my phone was if I had to call 911.

    Meantime, I had to find some way to calm myself.   I used what I call the Buddhist’s releases. Buddhism inspired them because they deal with both craving and aversion responses to all situations. I certainly felt an aversion to the situation and my response. Still, the only way to find out was to do both releases.   I started with the obvious: I released any negative about my hatred for these feelings of shame and heartache and kept anything positive or anything I still needed. I heard some reassuring gurgling noises coming from my stomach. Parasympathetic relaxation causes gurgling; a parasympathetic response triggers relaxation; relaxation means healing; healing means I was on the right track. While my stomach relaxed, my mind was still in deep distress.

   Then I did the opposite. I released anything negative about my love for these feelings of shame and heartache. Whadaya know? More gurgling, more relaxation, and my spirit calmed and my mind. How’s that for a kick in the pants. Why would I love those feelings of shame and heartache? I wasn’t expecting a positive response. I just have learned to always try both with myself and everyone I guide through the process. Some people refuse to try the one they can’t imagine being true. I say, “If it’s not true, you won’t have a response.”  So far, everyone has rolled with the punches when they discover an aspect of themselves they hadn’t expected. By this time, I am no longer surprised. I know there’s going to be something hidden in the one I consider the opposite of how I truly feel.  

    I had several more waves of shame and heartache overcome me. I did the releases every time. Every time the combination calmed me. However, I also resolved not to put out more videos or articles. I can’t stand the pain. I give up. 

   Later in the morning, while lying on my left side, I moved my leg back and forth across the sheet. I couldn’t feel the side of my leg. My lower leg was numb. Now, how’s that for scary. I decided to go back to sleep and mention it to my primary physician when I saw her on Monday. It seems clear now that my foot problems were coming from higher up. My hip? My glutes? My back? It would be a crying shame to have hip surgery to discover that the problem was in my back. The problem is I can’t trust the surgeons to make an unbiased decision. Kaiser doctors don’t make money with each surgery; they’re salaried. However, they are invested in their craft. It wouldn’t surprise me if they recommended hip replacement for a hangnail.

    I drove up to Judy’s to drop off a document, a clean plate from some food she gave me, and two small candles she had sent over for my birthday in December. I spent some time visiting Paulette. When it was time to leave, I couldn’t find my blue Wallaroo hat. Without it, I doubt the passing cars would recognize me as I walked without Elsa. Paulette said she hadn’t seen it. She went to the lanai and checked behind the pillows on the sofa but no joy. Elsa had joyfully gone with me. As I was heading back to the car, we couldn’t find her. I remembered that Paulette had her door open when we arrived. Sure enough, there Elsa was behind the screen door. I warned Paulette that the food in the cat dish was probably gone. That’s my girl. I opened the passenger side door to let Elsa in, preparing to leave. There was my blue Wallaroo hat. It had slipped between the seat and the door. 

      I let Elsa run to the door without her leash when we got home. Ever since I saw her get in front of a moving car, attempting to stop it, doing so makes me nervous. Our driveway is deep, but she runs much faster than I do. It could be one of the greatest mistakes of my life. 

   My friend Jean reported that her X-ray came out clear, with no kidney stones. She also recommended a good movie. I can’t stand most of what passes for comedy these days. I don’t know if I could take the old comedies anymore, either. They are slapstick or mean.