grate

It is roadkill season.  Which I will not write about because it (seriously) bothers me.  A lot.

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The former student, kid but not kid, adult manchild - who contacted me on New Year's Eve to tell me his mother had died - was lying.  That's fucked up, right?  He was lying to me.  Why?

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Mediation fascinates me.  When I meet the first person, I always find myself taken with their story, ready to align myself (secretly) against the other person.  And then the second person comes in and woos me over to their side and I find myself completely torn.  I think this is exactly the way it should be, that I should find myself on side with both people - because that means I want what is best for both of them.  Because it means I am motivated to help them find a solution that makes them both happy.

The first woman today was warm and bubbly and funny, wept openly and wore her heart on her sleeve.  I was completely charmed.  She was exactly the sort of woman I am always friends with, the extroverted mama type who folds me up in her arms and makes me feel loved.  Like T.  I liked her immediately.

And then the second woman told her story and I over-identified with her to a degree that I was stunned by it.  Stunned because her friend described her as cold and rigid and inflexible.  And stunned because she, herself, told me she could not tolerate weakness in herself or others.  And I wanted to ask her about her overly critical mother, because obviously she has one of those, and I wanted to tell her that she can soften a little without losing control, but I didn't say that because I'm not a counsellor in this situation.  But really.  She was me, just a bit more sure of her me-ness than I am.

Tomorrow we have the part where we all meet and try to generate solutions to the problem.  Clearly the T-Doppelganger will cry, and apologize, and over-own the problem.  And extend herself to do what she can to make things better.  And the Me will not cry with all her might, and will say she needs nothing from this mediation, nothing other than to be left alone with herself.  She is a rock, she is an island.  And in the end, will they find a resolution to their dispute?  I do hope so.


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source

I am booked the next two days to facilitate a mediation between two elementary teachers who are embroiled in a dispute.  Apparently they both applied for the same job, and since one got it and the other didn't, they have been fighting at work.  Yelling.  Harassing.  This sort of behaviour.  This kind of thing blows my mind, which I guess isn't appropriate for a mediator to say, but it really does.  Although I do not have the most effective filter when I am out in the wilds (especially while consuming wine), my filter at work is strong and effective.  I cannot fathom yelling at a co-worker - although imagining it is delicious.  If yelling at co-workers was an option, there are a number of people upon whom I would unleash my wrath --  and it would be satisfying.  (But why do people think they can do this??)

*

We are closing in on the end of the school year and I am hopeful that I have cleared the biggest of the hurdles to be faced.  D, of course, has been my most time-consuming and heart-wrenching investment.  I feel he is in a good place, as good as he can be.   Next year I will have my EMDR license and I see him at the top of my list of people who would benefit.  He has PTSD, for certain.  Meanwhile, his foster mother has formed a beautiful bond with him, enough so that he has decided to forego independent living and stay with her until he turns 19.  I see this as an incredible development.

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first a look at our top stories

Why do newscasters deliver the news as though it is happening in the present rather than the past?  "Next up, a man startles a woman by getting into her car with her while she is having a nap in the parking lot behind the grocery store!"  The immediacy of it makes it seem even more alarming.  But it happened yesterday.  The woman is okay.  The man is in custody.  It's past.  (It's still super weird though.  Who has a nap in their car in the middle of the day?)

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Schönbrunn

I had planned to decline going on the next trip with RW.  It was a back-and-forth internal debate, but I could not get past the negatives, until LM decided to come with us, which is a game changer.  She makes everything more tolerable, even the sound of RW chewing, snoring, and talking incessantly.  It changes everything.  So I told RW I would go; Germany (again), Austria, Switzerland.

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it'sthatbad

Friday was the kind of work day I like best.  M does not work on Fridays and C called in sick (which she does quite frequently).  That meant it was me and N and R, the team I far prefer.  However, N made the mistake of opening a file in the shared drive to ask me a question, during which I noticed that the entire team had neglected to do some important paper work that was meant to be done back in October.

I was mad.  It isn't that I am a person who yells and screams - because I don't - but I was mad, clearly mad.  N tried to tell me he didn't know he was supposed to do this paperwork, but then meekly subsided when we found that he had actually started one of the forms and didn't finish it.  Clearly he knew he was meant to do it because at some point he had started.  (R wasn't part of the team at this time so he was out of the line of fire.)  C and M hadn't even started.  I wasn't in the least bit surprised by M because she consistently does not do her job, but I was surprised and extra annoyed by C, who dislikes being asked to do anything because she already knows everything.  R witnessed me ranting but did not say a word.  At the time I thought I was educating him (potentially) about the importance of doing his paperwork lest his Department Head lose her shit.

At the end of the day, R stopped by my office to chat.  It wasn't until he left that I realized he had sneakily been counselling me for the last twenty minutes.  With all the apparent naiveté of a twenty-something counselling student he doled out some very gentle wisdom, gently enough I almost didn't notice he had given it to me, or that I had taken it.  It was quite lovely.  It gave me clarity to let N off the hook (since he was already squirming), to address it with C on Monday morning (calmly), and to ignore M with purpose and decisiveness.  It is my opinion that R is going to be a better counsellor than any of us.  He spoke to me about relinquishing that which doesn't belong to us.  I think I like listening to him because he comes off like a bit of a dumb jock, but then surprises me with his insight and vocabulary.  It's disarming.

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Paul

On Wednesday evening I sent B a text to remind him we are going to the Paul Simon concert next week.  Normally B responds very quickly when I talk to him.  When I went to bed he still had not responded, and I knew that he was going to bail.  He finally answered at 4:00 on Thursday, admitting that he was double-booked.  He was apologetic.  I was unsurprised.  (The surprise was when he accepted my invitation - because he would have had to take a night off his other job, which he clearly did not.)

What he could not know was that I had been somewhat dreading our night together.  While it seemed like fun when I invited him, it's indubitable that my exuberance was at least partially bolstered by wine.  A sober eight weeks later it was starting to make me nervous to imagine trying to talk to him for longer than five minutes, face to face rather than by text.

B is a nice guy, but he's so introverted.  I have never been alone with him, and I didn't (don't) have confidence in my ability to facilitate an entire night of back and forth with him.  Prior to the concert we would have had to manage transportation conversation, and then dinner conversation.  I was apprehensive about all of it, so when he apologized profusely and asked me for another date in the summer, it was with no difficulty that I forgave him lightly and completely ignored the request for another chance.

I am taking J to the concert instead, and there is nothing inside me that feels uncomfortable with that.


*

D

D.

I made a mistake, I think, in not spending more time with him to prepare him for this week.  The interview with the immigration lawyer shook him more than I thought it would.  But of course I had no idea what kinds of things the lawyer would want to talk about.  D told the lawyer about his sister, that his mother sold her when she was five, for ten thousand dollars.  He shared that with me quite awhile ago, but I did not think it would come up at this meeting.  Does it bring back the nightmares?

D.

He skipped his interview for the trade program this morning.  We had arranged for me to drive him.  Instead he skipped class and hid from me.  Again, I think I made a mistake in not preparing him better for this interview.  But I had not anticipated his mother would phone him.  I had not expected her to sabotage his confidence.  She told him not to go into the program.  Instead she would come to get him and they could move together to a new home.

D.

He knows in his heart, in the dark ink-stained part of his damaged heart that his mother is not coming back.  She abandoned him.  She will not be back.  She says she loves him, she says things will be better.  He loves her, he wants his mama.  But she cannot cross the border.  She has a criminal record.  She simply cannot be who he wants her to be.  She is too broken and damaged herself to be anything to him but a drain.  And last night she drained away his confidence before his interview to make sure he wouldn't take another step away from her.

D.

He told me he didn't want to talk to me.  I did not let him go.  I usually let him go when he wants to go.  I told him that I thought he probably felt like he was having to choose between himself and his mother.  He started to cry when I said that.  That's how you know you hit the bullseye, when they cry.  We talked about how he could choose himself without cutting out his mother.  We talked about how he could take care of himself without hurting her.  It's all so painful.  These things are true, but they hurt him because he knows that every step he takes toward independence inevitably takes him further away from her.

D.

It mirrors what happened with J and her mom, my sister.  It's so hard to watch.

D.

Steve managed to convince them to give D another interview time tomorrow.  I am not going to waste a minute finding him tomorrow to make sure I get in his head first, with all the positivity I can muster about his potential and his future and his endless possibilities.  If his mother were to die it would probably help him in the long run.  My sister was considerate enough to do that for J.


EMDR

I have registered to take an EMDR course next school year.  This is specialized training for treatment of post traumatic stress.  It costs 2K for me to take this training - and my district, of course, does not pay for it.  It is coming from my pocket.  Because I want kids like D not to suffer so much, so long.  I need a better tool.