Monday, February 7, 2022

 Monday, February 7, 2022

     I was exhausted when I went to bed last night. I stayed up as long as I could. My first wake-up moment was at 12:30. That's what I was afraid of. I slept or dozed for the rest of the night. It wasn't insomnia. That's a horse of a different color. That's a living nightmare. I couldn't sleep during my last three years of high school before leaving my mother's house. With insomnia, I was exhausted and couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, desperate to find a way to relax enough to let go. Horrible. I pity anyone who suffers. Last night, I dozed lightly while my mind remained conscious. 

      The CBD pills had knocked out my anxiety, terror more like it. The paranoid thoughts started again in the early morning, thinking of people who didn't understand my point of view. Then I had one where I feared someone might have misinterpreted my friendly email. I haven't had thoughts like that in years. I had no negative interactions with this person. It reflects my mother's insistence that I did everything wrong and that no one liked me. That's what life was like when I was younger. Those messages are locked into my body-brain. Thank you. CBD. I must remember to take a pill when those thoughts start creeping into my mind.

   I took one capsule. It didn't calm me. I had to deal with my racing, pounding heart. It didn't help as much as the two pills did last night. I tried meditation. I applied my method: "I release anything negative about my hatred for my terror and keep anything positive or anything I still need." That produced a mild calming. Then I said, "I release anything negative about my love of my terror and keep anything positive about it or anything I still need." Whoa! Substantial calming and a stomach gurgle. Stomach gurgles indicate a response of the sympathetic nervous system. When I do healing on others and hear it, I call it applause for my work. I accept it as an indication that I'm on the right track. But why would I want to hold on to such unpleasant feelings and thoughts?   The only thing I could come up with was a frequency I shared with my mother; it was a way to connect with her.

    This makes sense when I think of it. My mom suffered from PTSD. She operated at the level of urgency in all situations. No one wants to be alone with no one to share their vibes. We all want to be in harmony with others. It's downright scary to be in a situation when you're not in harmony with those you have to spend a lot of time with. While she didn't mean me ill, she was toxic. That is not to say she didn't do her best. I loved my mom. I adored her. She was adorable. When I gained some control over her negative impact on me, I was delighted to have her spend the last 18 years of her life with me. It was a joy to be a good daughter. Now, let's see if I can clear my psyche of all the negativity so I can spend the rest of my life in relative peace. 

    My reactivity reminds me of how I felt when I went through menopause. I would have these surges, which felt like anxiety. What I'm feeling now doesn't feel like that, but a surge of uncomfortableness still leaves me feeling out of control. Not fun!

    At 11 am, I had my weekly reading office hours for Step Up Tutoring. Three people signed up, but only two showed up. Both were working with 5th graders on writing. I told them to use co-writing. They wanted to know how to generate a topic. I use "Think of a color. Name an object that's that color. Pull the camera back and describe the scene around the object." That works unless the student thinks I'm playing a game where I have a color in mind, and it's their job to guess it. I told them how to do a pre-writing activity, generating ideas. And how to subsequently organize the material. I should have talked to them about Vygotsky's theory on scaffolding, supporting the student to the extent they need it to fulfill the lesson's objective. 

   The third tutor never showed. I checked my email. She had canceled, telling me that she was having problems teaching decoding. As I recommended in my email, she planned to watch my videos and work with me the following week. Perfect.

   Sometimes people just come to mind. Recently, the woman Mike and I got Elsa from came to mind. I finally sent her an email, updating her on Elsa's life. I also sent her a picture of Elsa sitting on my lap, looking at the computer screen.

    I was moved to text adolescent D's teacher to get feedback on his performance on Friday. He prepared a presentation and read it to the class. I wanted to know how it went. She responded he did well, but he didn't read his presentation; he had it memorized. I gather he looked like he was reading it, but she assumed he couldn't possibly be reading it and sound that good. This is a boy who has a poor memory. As I worked on Phase III, he had to read a sentence, memorize it, and dictate it and spell it back to me. He can only do that sometimes. Also, she said they are working on executive function. I guess all they were doing was going over the study skills list and telling him to do it. I doubt they know how to scaffold learning moments for him. Yikes. Furious.

   Their assumption that he memorized the presentation is bizarre. A) they are working with him on his executive function. They should know there is no way he would have memorized the text independently. If he had worked for hours with his mom, which he didn't do. B) There is a difference between memorizing a text versus reading it several times and becoming familiar with it. 

      When Judy prepares her reading for our church service, she doesn't memorize it; she familiarizes herself. She could not get up there and recite the biblical passage without the text. She remains dependent on the text. She reads it. C) Did she assume that other students who read their presentation memorized them rather than read them? Unbelievable! Frustrating!

    I had a session with the M & W sisters. As usual, I had first-grade M first. Her neighbor gave her a book. She wanted to read it to me. It was a chapter book that was way over her head, but she joyfully tackled it, decoding every word. I couldn't understand what she was saying. That was fine with me. She had a great time figuring out the words. We also continued with Phase III work on the second-grade text from Barnell Loft.

   With fifth grade W, I had her read the story she wrote and look for changes she wanted to make. When she reads out loud, my goal is accuracy. She made some mistakes with little words but never distorted the meaning. I don't do much better than she does. Her mother makes a big deal about her missed words. I don't know what the issue is. Also, W reports she is doing better in school. 

    I watched A Long Way Down on Netflix last night, a phenomenal cast. They are probably all actors who have lost their A rating but are still damn good. The movie got panned. I enjoyed it. Yes, it's a feel-good movie. It's the only type I'll watch. I don't need other people's tragedies to fill my dreams.