Wednesday, August 7, 2024
I had a bad night, defending myself from the therapist I spoke to the other day. I have a terrible track record with therapists. Several have run trips on me, including making assumptions about things I have done and not done in my life for which there are records. I spoke to this therapist on the phone to make a first appointment. She told me that her objective was to help me accept that I could not control the reactions of others, and the aim of her work was to change my neurological reaction if people responded in upsetting ways. I told her I agreed. Then she said it at least two more times, perhaps as much as three, without checking to see how I felt about what she had to say. What she didn't do was explore what I thought about what she had to say. I told her I didn't want to hear the same thing repeatedly. She said she didn't want to work with someone who didn't want to hear what she had to say. I told her she had said it once, and I expressed agreement. I didn't have to hear it three more times. She said she didn't think she could work with me. Interesting. I'm glad I didn't get involved and get the best I could out of her, as she didn't address my needs but prioritized hers. This does not mean she doesn't do a fantastic job with other clients.
The occupational therapist who came to my home last year while I was recovering from my shoulder and elbow accident and surgeries clarified some of the problems. She said when she first met me, she feared I would give her trouble. I was intelligent, knowledgeable, verbal, and outspoken. She said I wound up being her favorite client. That's because she worked with me instead of on me. She was skilled enough to make the necessary adaptations and secure enough not to lay a trip on me.
The OT I worked with in a rehab center wasn't as flexible, but she tried. I don't fit in neatly if they have a script in mind. For some, this means they're uncomfortable; for some, it means they will learn as much as I do; and for some, it means there's something wrong with me. It's a lousy feeling.
The poor therapist sat down and wrote me a two-page email detailing six things I could do to improve my situation. I recognized the response. I've done it myself when I've misfired with a person. I followed up with a missive, trying to prove I'm a good guy who only means well. I wrote "Thank you" rather than returning with my two-page missive. I was very proud of myself for my restraint. I could let it go.
I did get something good out of the encounter. For both the therapist and me, the issue was that we felt we were not listened to —not heard. She was the one who put a halt to the process. I agreed. Hopefully, next time, I will be the one doing it.
I had a night of troubled thinking. I finally calmed down and fell asleep. Relaxation came when I thought of someone who scares me. I assumed that person was just as frightened of me. In my ruminations, I realized maybe she's not scared or doesn't perceive herself as frightened. She projects contempt, which I assumed was born of fear; perhaps she doesn't see it that way. She may see what she feels as disgust. I have no idea why anyone would find that conclusion comforting, but I did. It is disgust and contempt that I fear.
Historically, I have a couple of personal reasons to fear it. It was disgust that the Nazis felt for the Jews. My parents were refugees from Nazi Germany. They were never in the camps. Wealthy urban German Jews had the option of leaving. The only members of my family who wound up in the camps were one family whose father chose not to go. He was a lawyer and couldn't conceive of earning a living in the USA. He was also married to a Christian and thought that would offer him some protection. He and his wife both died in Auschwitz. Their fifteen-year-old daughter survived Theresienstadt.
But there is a second source of disgust and contempt. My mother made it clear she felt those sentiments. She hated my body. It was the same as hers. She declared she should never have had children. At her memorial, a cousin of my father's described her as athletic. It wasn't popular at the time. In my time, no peer criticized my body. I was considered very well-built. As I crossed 10th street on my way to my dance classes on Broadway, I was always offered an opportunity to be in the 'movies.' I politely declined.
As I did my morning walk with Elsa, I saw Dean approaching us with an egg cartoon. I knew who they were for. Nina had already gone to work. Dean was walking with a neighbor, Mike, who also had a few chickens, primarily as pets. Dean and Mike talked about chickens, one of Dean's favorite topics.
I finally sprayed some weeds with 30% vinegar. I had that on the agenda for days but never got around to it. I also planned to cut back the haole koas, drill a hole in the remaining trunk, and inject a minimal amount of Round-Up. I got into my 'chainsaw' clothes. I have to oil the chain before each use; the oil spatters on my clothes. I got about five trees done.
I continued cleaning up the green waste from the Plumbago shrub Casey cut back two weeks ago. All the leaves are yellow by now. They were easy to crush and pack into 5-gallon Home Depot buckets.
I noticed two problems when I worked with Adolescent D today. The big one is his lagged response. I'll give instructions, like let's do the next word, and he does nothing for a period of time that feels unusually long. I could ask him to name the following letter, read the next word, or ask him another question, and he doesn't respond in a timely way. One might well ask, what does timely mean? It's the time most people take between being asked a question and answering. Sometimes, a person delays their response when searching for an answer. D does it more frequently than that, and it can't be explained by simple confusion. He hadn't done it in a while. It corresponded with the start of school. It may be a freeze response.
The second issue that caught my attention today was his problem remembering rules. He has problems remembering the exact words someone said, no matter how often he heard them. He immediately transposes them into images or actions. The problem is that his interpretation heavily depends on what he already knows. Since he doesn't know enough, he either misinterprets the meaning of the words or forgets them. I must remember to have him repeat my exact words when I cite a rule. Hopefully, this will help him with his auditory processing problem.
I asked D if he would continue working at Costco. He said yes. I asked him how he could do that and stay in school. He was confused. I said, "8 hours of work and 5 to 6 hours in school daily is a lot." Ah. Then he got my concern. He will continue working at Costco part-time. He has never done his school work, no less in a timely way. The compressed time may help him.
After working with D, I did some gardening. I set out to kill haole koa. I had to cut back branches to reach one of the trees safely, and I had trouble drilling a hole in that slender stalk.
Then, I cut down the agave flower stem. These stems grow fifteen feet high. I had to be careful because they were under the coconut trees, which were heavy with ripening fruit. If one of those babies decided to let loose and fall and hit me, I'd be history. I had been told In countries with many coconut trees, the death rate from falling coconuts is impressive. I checked that information. It's a coconut legend. Not that many people die from being struck by a coconut,
I had fourth-grade L at 4:30 pm. He was a little late. I continued with comprehension. My mood improved significantly from gardening; I had felt burnt out and somewhat impatient. I had thought he had advanced enough to move him into fourth-grade material. He is quite a bit better in the 'In The Book' questions, where he has to use the exact words in the sentence to answer the question. His big problem is how he goes brain-dead when uncertain. Learning to deal with uncertainty and confusion is a learning skill. Good students do it well; poor students don't do well with it at all.
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