HOW NOT TO QUIT A JOB

I would love to know what goes through her mind.  She is dismissed from class, she walks outside with her teacher and her classmates, and is greeted not by her Dads, but by her sitter. 

Is there a letdown?  A sense of being abandoned?  A sense that she is not loved enough to warrant her parents picking her up?  Madyson’s mom is here, Ethan’s dad is there....

Last week was rough.  She cried one night at bedtime saying that she is the only one in her class who has a sitter picking her up.  Now, I doubt very much if every child is being picked up by a parent.  Most families have both parents working--especially in this town where the property values have sunk and the taxes remain so high.  But this town is also a depressed one where it is quite possible that some of the families are affected by the economy and unemployment. 

She is fortunate in that she has dads who are employed and busy.  Probably too busy.  And who, she feels, may have more of an allegiance to their jobs in New York, than to their lives in Plainfield, New Jersey. 

She has had sitters since she came home from UMDNJ hospital when she was 6 weeks old.  How many have entered her life?  Too many.  Some stay for a year and move on, some last a few weeks like this last one. 

Hello,

I'm writing to let you know that today was was my last day and I will no longer be able to work for you.

I think Maya needs to be in the care of someone who is specialized in childhood behavior. She has a great many issues that need professional help and I am not qualified to give her that. She is very disrespectful, rude, angry, disobedient, and extremely confrontational.

I also believe, from what I have seen, that her difficulty with reading and comprehension stems from more than ADD/ADHD, and that she has other learning disabilities.

I thank you for the opportunity and I wish you the best in finding someone who fits your family well.

Autumn


This is an email I woke up to Saturday morning.  It was sent at midnight. 

What Autumn fails to acknowledge, is her role in all of this.  Maya is 8--she is a kid who is strong-willed, knows what she wants and will try to manipulate a situation to get what she wants.  Pretty typical.  But she is also a child when she feels a connection, will be your best friend and love you unconditionally. 

It is a shame that Autumn did not have the insight to see this.  She was told in the beginning that there would be testing behaviors--she said that she understood.  She was told that it would be challenging in the beginning.  She said that she understood.  She was told that we wanted to be kept in the loop regarding any behavior issues or struggles she was enduring.  She reported nightly that things were “fine.”  I actually came home early on Friday (her secret last day of work) and, again, things were “fine.” 

Autumn is 18.  Friends and family alike have said, “What do you expect?”  She does not go to college, has no aspirations of going to college.  I looked beyond that and felt that perhaps her youth and energy would work well with Maya.  I looked beyond her piercings and the fact that she and her girlfriend participated in the Slut Walk a few weeks back in New York--it was a good cause!

You know, Autumn, my daughter may have some feelings because she would rather be with her Dads at night rather than with a stranger.   That does not warrant a college degree--just some compassion and empathy.  It also gets frustrating for her as well as us that caregivers who “promise” to stay don’t.  I get it--life happens, people need to move on.  But if you are going to work with kids, be true to your word.

Several years ago, my first job out of grad school, I was a Case Manager at Jersey City Medical Center.  My initial role there was working with adults who were living with HIV/AIDS.  A position in the Children’s Clinic opened up and was offerred to me.  I was forewarned by my bosses that if I took it, then I needed to commit to it for a while.  These kids were sick, their parents were traumatized. 

I did not stay.  It was not a good fit.  While I loved working with the kids, the politics of the hospital and the job itself were wearing me down.  I gave my notice.  My bosses were furious.  I did not get it at first--turnover was high, I was just another going through that revolving door.  What’s the big deal?

But it was a big deal.  Because I did matter to those kids.  I was more than a worker.  I was Mr. Jeff.  I was the guy who helped them navigate the system, help them out with their medical appointments, make them laugh.  I didn’t get that until I became a parent--and even then, I sometimes forget.

But on a night when my girl is crying because her Dads are not home and she is being cared for by a “stranger”, my role in all of this is crystal clear. 

You know, Autumn, I am angry, too.  I am angry that I cannot put my daughter down to sleep each night and be there like my parents were there for me.  But right now, we are doing the best we can.

"I now hasten my good by picturing it."

These words were spoken by Catherine Ponder in a 1972 lecture that was recorded and that I have been listening to on my Audible Iphone app.  Ponder has been a powerful force for decades in the areas of prosperity and healing and her many books can be found on Amazon.

I began reading Ponder on my recent vacation.  I had gone through a somewhat difficult summer emotionally and financially and reading her words gave me the shot in the arm that I needed in that moment.  Reading does that for me.  Does it do that as well for you?

I think I have mentioned in the past my love for anything Erma Bombeck has written.  Her way of combining both humor and humanity inspire me.  If you take a look at my nightstand, you will find dog-eared copies of several of her books.  I will often grab one before heading off to sleep, open a book to any page and just start reading.  I find myself smiling or laughing at the same passages--the familiarity is comforting.  I'll do the same thing in the morning--it's my little jolt of humor in the a.m.

Words can do that.  Words can comfort and inspire.  Our words are filled with power.   Ponder says, Our words are charged with prospering power."  And they are.  I try, I really do, to create a world for myself that is positive, prosperous and rich.  Some days are better than others.

My challenge is the morning.  I used to be a typical morning person--I would get up, make the coffee and several times a week go for a run.  But with the stress of the summer, the vacation, Maya starting a new school this year, our cat, Anna, passing away, and a new puppy (yes--why not add a little more chaos??)--I have found MANY reasons why I cannot possible take better care of myself physically.

The power of words.  As I look at what I have just typed, I realize that this is all fixable.  None of this is a permanent problem.  "I now hasten my good through picturing it."  The change that has occurred over this summer is over.  It is over. I am now in a new space today.  A prosperous space today.  Ponder says that we need to give ourselves prosperous words every day--even if we don't believe it in the beginning.  Eventually we will.  We will.

I picture myself getting up in the morning, throwing on some running clothes, my sneakers, grabbing my Ipod.  Before I head out, I throw on the coffeemaker, grab Sarah (our dog), and take her with me for a brief run.  And I look forward to getting some exercise, improving my physical and emotional well-being, and looking healthier.  And Sarah gets her exercise for the day as well.  It's a win-win for all.

What do you like to read?  Or watch?  Or listen to?  What inspires you?  Find something if you don't have it.  It's shitty to feel shitty.  You have a choice here.    Hasten your good.  Do it now.

Anna

Anna“Come on, Jeff—pull it together.”
Was that me?
Did I just speak out loud, by myself, in my kitchen?
Yes, I did.
At my feet lies our cat, Anna.  A once-frisky devil of a calico.  It was not unlike her to jump on the kitchen counter and drag off steak, chicken, and other assorted goodies that we were preparing to make for our dinner.  But now, I have just gotten off the phone with the vet.  We have a 10:40am appointment Tuesday the 26th of July to euthanize her.  I have just spent 30-some odd minutes googling to see if Maya should be there.  As I expected, everyone has differing opinions.

I found Anna on a bitter cold rainy evening in early 2001 when we were living in Jersey City.  We rented a garage space from a guy around the corner.  As I pulled the Jeep in, I caught glimpse of a tiny, frail-looking kitten.  I ran back to our apartment and grabbed a green recycling bin in the hope that I could rescue her.  Keep in mind that we already had 2 cats at home who were perfectly content with the arrangement and I do not think that they wanted their space further cramped.  But, I am a sucker for at-risk animals and I am going to honestly say that I did not take Tiger and Aurora’s feelings into account.   Approaching this kitten carefully, who had now found refuge in a box full of damp newspapers, I was able to scoop her into the green bin and run home.  She was terrified.  I felt her little body jumping up wildly trying to escape.  She continued this as I raced into my building, up the stairs and released her in our bathroom.  I have never seen a cat jump as high as this one was.  Nor make the sounds that she was.   I had a few moments of terror, thinking that maybe she was rabid, or psychotic, but with some food and water, she slowly settled down.  And after the initial vet visits, including spay that had to be done twice, she slowly began to trust her new surroundings and Aurora and Tiger grudgingly welcomed her into the fold. 

The incident is lovingly referred to as “The escape.”    We were moving from our apartment in JC to a home in Plainfield.  The cats were in the bathroom, locked away.  The movers were instructed not to open the door.  There was even a note on the door.  A big note.   Of course, one of them opened the door.  Anna bolted out of the bathroom, down the hall, out of the apartment door, down the stairs and onto the street.  I was on the street and saw her race around the corner.  “If I lose her, I am fucked.”  Those were my thoughts at the time.  And so began my amazing chase through the neighborhood.  Clearly she forgot that she almost perished when she lived out in the streets.  After about an hour or so of chasing her through numerous yards in the neighborhood on a sweltering August afternoon, I felt that I finally had my chance of getting her.  She was resting under a rose bush.  I got on my stomach, crawled slowly toward her, and grabbed her.  And instantly experienced pain that cannot be translated into words.  The hind legs flailing wildly, scratching my forearms drawing immense amounts of blood.  Her teeth grabbing my thumbs and fingers, trying desperately to get out of my grip.  Oh, and there was the rose bush.  That fucking rose bush. I was eventually able to grab her by the scruff, which calmed both of us.   Walking back to the apartment, bleeding, dirty and sweaty, holding a tiny kitten by the neck, it reminded me of the end of one of those Mel Gibson style Apocalypse movies.  I had “won”.  But Anna continued to have the adventurer in her.  While she never escaped into the wilds of the suburbs, she did get herself stuck in various crawl spaces around the house resulting in unique challenges to rescuing her.

But these little episodes pale in comparison with my endless memories of her and Maya together.  Maya’s first task in the morning has been to track Anna down and carry her through the house, hugging and kissing her.  Anna has enjoyed being Maya’s rag doll—they are quite the team.  They have breakfast and dinner together, they are together as we watch Modern Family, they sleep together.
We lost Tiger a few years ago.  Maya and Tiger were close, but I feel that Maya and Anna kind of grew up together.  And as I feel mortality being more of a presence in my life these days, this appointment tomorrow is really so much more than my pet being euthanized.  It’s a call to make these days and these relationships mean more.

I’ve been on edge a bit more over the last few days.  And I give myself permission to be this way.  I know it won’t last.  I know I will “pull it together.”  But this cat has tugged at my heartstrings for over 10 years.  And I know she has impacted my daughter more than she can or chooses to verbalize.
I’ve been trying, gently, to talk to her about this.  It’s hard—“Dada, she’ll get better.”
“You know, babe, she’s not going to get better.  Her little body cannot fight this disease anymore.  No medicine can help her now.  We need to understand that she can’t live this way anymore.  Her little legs cannot hold her up.  She’s whimpering, her eyes look so sad.  So we’ve made a decision—the doctor can give Anna a special shot that will help her die peacefully.  She won’t be in this pain anymore.  And we will be able to say goodbye to Anna in our own way.  And we can be together as a family when this happens.  It’ll be okay.  She will be at peace.  She won’t be sad anymore.  Does this make sense to you?”
We haven’t had this conversation yet.  We may say all of this to her, we may say some of it.  But it’s gonna be hard.  But it will bring us all even closer.  With all the sadness that death brings, it also brings us opportunities to come closer.
Thanks, Anna.  I do love you. We all do.

Happy Pride Month! ...for some.

Well, it's June in New York and this great city is covered in rainbows. And for the most part, it's really a non-event. The way it should be......but elsewhere.... (can you hear the ominous music?) In the Great City of Richmond:  "The Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond ran a rainbow flag up its flagpole last week and has been hearing about it ever since. From conservative groups who are outraged. From gay rights groups who are pleased. And from state lawmakers on both sides who just cannot seem to stop talking about it. The bank unfurled the flag on June 1, at the request of a group of gay and lesbian employees in honor of gay pride month. One day later, Bob Marshall, a Republican in the House of Delegates and an outspoken opponent on gay rights issues, was moved to write a letter to the bank's president, saying that the flag was inappropriate for a quasi-governmental entity.   "Dear President [Jeffrey M.] Lacker," wrote state Delegate Bob Marshall, "Flying the homosexual flag just under the American flag outside Richmond's Federal Reserve Bank building is a serious deficiency of judgment by your organization." Gay and lesbian "behavior," he wrote, "undermines the American economy, shortens lives, adds significantly to illness, increases health costs, promotes venereal diseases," among other things." (for more of the story, click here http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/11/us/11flag.html) Oh, Bob, get a life. Go to the movies. Stop watching Sarah, and Glenn and Ann, and Pat and....my God--there's so many. Get yourself educated. Get a date. So, let me lose myself in Lady Gaga for a moment: I'm beautiful in my way ‘Cause God makes no mistakes I'm on the right track, baby I was born this way. This is all kind of cool. Although 70% of The Rivers Flow practice serves the GLBT community, I've had so many straight clients reference this song in their sessions with me, underscoring the fact that this message is , indeed, universal. And that gives me a smile. Part of the challenge with serving the LGBT community is having a clinical staff that understands, empathizes and identifies with the struggle, the process, the journey and has an idea of how the story should end. We can look at the Bob Marshalls' of the world and shake our heads with amazement and disgust. But, unfortunately, there is at least 1 Bob in every GLBT client. Someone who said ‘you weren't good enough, smart enough, normal enough.' And as clinicians, it is our job to reign Bob in, take away his power, and help our clients understand that God (or some other entity) makes no mistakes. But that Bob sometimes lingers like a pesky fly buzzing around your head on a hot, humid New York City afternoon. I've had my Bob moments. Those days when I don't feel as confident, as sure of myself, as emboldened. And this could be related to lack of sleep, exercise, or some stress in my relationships--personal or professional. Or maybe I'm just not regular. But like an actor, we sometimes need to act "as if". There are those days when I need to fight and force myself to show up. It's not easy, it can be exhausting, but it's worth it in the end. So if it is forcing myself to go for a run, or a hard workout, or have a quiet moment to lessen the noise in my head, I will do it. And for me, music is the perfect remedy. It may not be a Lady Gaga song, it may be a Motown song, it maybe (forgive me) a showtune. Whatever, genre or artist, if I find something to connect with that will lift me up, give me some confidence and hope, then I know I will be okay. Now, as far as Bob goes--there's always going to be a Bob. And I don't know if that is necessarily a bad thing. If it weren't for Bob, then would we ever feel fully empowered? Would we keep fighting? Or would we get lazy? I don't know. Happy Pride. Be safe. Be well.  Words for thought : "How does religion play into your personal or professional therapy? We love religion in therapy, but how do we love religion when we, or our clients, blame -- "God." Become our fan and see our page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Rivers-Flow/475740140726   Follow us on Twitter: http://twitter.com/theriversflow

A little Twitter never hurts, does it?

I haven't created a post in quite a while.  Mark O'Connell has written several thought-provoking pieces over the last few months.  There have been many times that I have thought, "Oh, that would make for interesting reading."  But the idea, unfortunately, never made it to my laptop screen.  So here goes several  months of built-up thoughts, ideas, and maybe a touch of angst.

I have become a devotee of Twitter ever since the Tahrir Square uprisings in Cairo.  I followed these heroes as they steadfastly refused to allow an autocratic ruler to remain in power.  I marveled at their tenacity, their bravery, their love for their homeland.  As a result, I now am following the additional protests in Libya, Iran, Yemen, and the others.  It is inspiring, yet frightening.

I look to Wisconsin, to Ohio where union rights are being challenged.  I look to Texas and many other states where a woman's right to choose is being more and more restricted.  I look to the Congress where the President's attempt to scrap the DOMA is, naturally, being vigorously challenged by the right.  I look to so many states where funding for those less privileged are being cut to the bone.

It is no news to you that our access to information is both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because we can get answers and viewpoints within seconds.  A curse because if we just keep taking in all of this information through a little screen, our level of hope can begin to fade away.  We need human interaction.  We need laughter, activity, love, touch, and yes, tears.

I left my computer yesterday and went for a run in the morning.  I played with my daughter in the afternoon.  I went for a walk around the neighborhood with my family at dusk.  And the three of us cuddled up on the couch last night and watched movies together.

Twitter has its place.  But I cannot let it re-place those things that are precious to me.