Friday, August 2, 2024

 Friday, August 2, 2024

    I saw Dean as he turned onto Holoholo. Rather than make a left on Kukuna, I turned around and walked back the way I had come. It was the longer way home, and I would get in more steps. 

   I didn’t get to work with the Twins because their mom was in Honolulu for a paddling competition. She told me to contact the girls over Facetime on my tablet, but there was no answer. I suspected their middle school brother had a firm grip on the table and had no intention of letting it go.

   I called my Long-Term healthcare insurance company. I received notification that they would be raising their rates. They offered a one-time payment of $10,000 and reduced benefits to avoid the rate hike. Mike and I had been talked into additional insurance, which relieved us of premium payments if one of us went into long-term care or died. Mike died on March 3, 2019. The letter said my policy would not be affected. I called to get verbal confirmation.

    I told the customer care agent I wanted confirmation on my policy status. She asked for my policy number. With my policy in front of her, she discussed the $10,000 one-time payment.  I suspected she was instructed to get people like me to accept the one-time payment and reduced benefits if she could. We old people get easily confused.  While I hoped I was wrong, I snapped; I wanted confirmation of the impact on my plan. She quickly changed her tune. She said my policy would be unaffected by the changes.

   Shortly after that call, I had another from an unknown caller. She asked if a ‘gentleman’ and gave a name, lived there. I said no. I expected a polite, “Sorry, Wrong number.” Instead, she said you live on the Big Island. Do you live on the Hilo side?  I hung up immediately. I dealt with three scams in two days. It makes me despair.

   I loaded a 5-gallon bucket of Plumbago green waste before I left for my Hula class at 10 a.m. at the community center. The class went pretty well, but some arm moves required raising them above heart level.

   I finally sent billing statements to all my paying clients, did more yard work, and loaded up more Plumbago waste. I also cut large palm fronds into pieces to fit in the trash barrel.

   I had an appointment with the acupuncturist at 1. She asked if she could be late. She was in town getting school supplies for her kids.  I hadn’t realized how late it was. I was filthy from the garden work.  I hopped into the shower. Jennifer arrived at 1:20. I got myself together in the nick of time.

   The therapist Yvette has been seeing to help her ‘get herself out of the way of her professional success’ called me.  I need that kind of help. I am very conflicted. I don’t like being rejected and ignored, nor do I like it when people pay too much attention. As I say, I’m conflicted.

      The therapist explained that we can’t control people’s reactions to us. We can only control our responses to theirs.  I am entirely on that page and told her so. She repeated the idea that we had no control over the reaction of others. I felt she had ignored my feedback. I don’t remember what I said. I tend to be blunt. I must have said something to the effect that I had heard what she said. She said, “ I can’t work with people who don’t want to hear what I have to say.”  I said, “You said it once. I told you I agreed. I didn’t need to hear it three more times.”  She said she couldn’t work with me. I agreed. At least, I didn’t tell her why I thought so. I spared both of us that retort.  She also said something else about my wanting to earn money. It’s not that I don’t want to earn money, but it’s not a priority. I am happy to work for less or free if people can’t afford it.  She couldn’t hear that either.

    I have lots of experience with therapists who insist I’m something I’m not. We went to the same therapist for a while. Mike went with me. He walked out, saying, “I don’t understand why they don’t get you.” They all laid trips on me. Most of them were bad trips. Sometimes, arguing with the hard facts of my life. It’s been weird. The therapist I spoke to today complained that I didn’t want to hear what she had to say; that was my complaint about her, too.  In the therapist/client relationship, it’s more important that the therapist hears the client than vice versa. I like to think I do that for my clients.  But so many people say nothing.

   After I got off the phone, I thought, “What would Yvette have done?”  If she had felt the therapist was inappropriate, she would have kept her mouth shut and said something polite about calling back, having no intention of doing so.  The skill of keeping my thoughts to myself could use some polishing. However, if I had, I wouldn’t have gotten the benefit of hearing the therapist say she didn’t want to work with someone who didn’t want to listen to what she had to say. When she did, I recognized it as my problem. Hearing it from her mouth allowed me to see my similar problem differently.

   Later that day, I received a long email from that therapist listing six practical and intrapersonal suggestions.  I recognize the impulse to be heard. I’ve done something comparable myself.  It’s a mixed bag.

    Darby hasn’t been walking in the evening. She told me she did something to her arm and wanted to rest it. Today, I learned that whatever she did caused her so much pain that she couldn’t lie down in her bed at night. I had no idea.