Hey look! A castle!

I went to get my hair cut today, and the girl that has done it the past few times--Mindy--wasn't there.  Katie* was free, so I went with her as I already had waited for my oil change, and my waiting tolerance was dwindling. 

I liked Mindy for several reasons: (1) she did a really nice job; (2) she took her time; (3) she didn't insist on talking.  I am fine with making a little conversation...but nonstop and incessant chatter just really isn't my style.  Katie, however, was a talker.  She was young, first of all.  I would have put her at 20 or 21, but she later disclosed that she was 18.  She asked me how I wanted my hair, commented about 5 times about how thick my hair is, asked me at least 7 times how long it takes me to style it/blow dry it in the morning, and asked me 3 times what product I use in it.  While the repetition was a little annoying, these are the questions I expect.  I wish she had stopped to breathe and/or hear my answer, but whatever.  It's all good.

Once we exhausted the hair cut/how thick/how long does it take to style/what product do you use rotation of questions, we moved on.  She's 18, she just graduated from high school, she really doesn't want to be cutting hair in a salon, she more likes to do it just for her friends and like at her house and stuff, but you know, it's okay, and she really wants to go to college in Washington state.  She's never been there but she hears that it's pretty, so she thinks it would be cool and stuff, and she wants to be a publisher because English was always her best subject even though she hates to read, but she wants to be a book publisher anyway, isn't that so funny?

No, when somebody is taking scissors to your head, you don't really want to be hearing about how much they don't want to work there and how they really aren't invested in cutting hair, so I was faced with a dilemma.  Do I encourage this chick to go to college and pursue her dream of being a publisher-who-hates-reading, or do I try to focus on building up the cosmetology skills (at least while she's hacking at my hair)?  I tried to balance the two.  It sounded something like this:

Katie: I just really think Washington state would be a fun place to go for college because, like, I've never been there and stuff and I think, like, it would be really interesting and...ya know?  I hear it's really pretty, and I really want to be a publisher for books -- NOT magazines, I do NOT see myself as a magazine publisher -- and I hear Washington has really good schools for being a publisher.

Me: Oh really?  That's interesting.  I bet Washington is beautiful.  How long have you worked here?

Katie: Not long.  I still don't know how to work the cash registers, haha, it's funny, I have to ask for help all the time.  I mostly like to cut my friends hair in my house and stuff because, you know, people appreciate that sort of thing, even though I don't let them take advantage of me like some people around here do.  But I don't want to stay here for long.  I just want to be a publisher, I don't know why.

Me: It's wonderful that you have so many goals.  And cutting hair can help you pay for things along the way, I'm sure!  It's great that you will always have that skill.

Katie: Yeah, but when I move to Washington to be a publisher, I really want to live in apartment.  I just don't picture myself doing this, you know?  It's fine for some people, but...I just really think being a publisher would be nice.

When we ran out of publisher talk, Washington state wishing, and why she thinks she'll have her own apartment and not worry about getting roommates, she STILL didn't come up for air.

K: So what about you?  What do you do?  Where do you work?  Are you in college?

Me: No, I graduated about a year ago from graduate school.  I work with children with developmental disabilities.

Rule #1: You do not...under ANY circumstances...tell people in a situation like this that you're a psychologist.  Getting a hair cut is not a billable hour, and I do my best not to make it one.  We were already toeing the line.

K: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, that's so cute!  That's so nice of you.  You must be a really good person.  I think that's a really nice thing to do.  Kind of like being a publisher.  Except you, like, help people and stuff.  Do you like it?

Me: I do.  It's a very rewarding job.

K: Awwwwwww, that's so sweet.  I bet it's like really nice and rewarding to like help people like that. 

Me: Mmmmhmmmm.

**Here, there was a two second silence in which neither of us knew what to say.  Never fear!  Katie knew just what to do.**

K: If you didn't do that, what would you do instead?

Me: Hmmm...that's a tricky question.  This is really what I've wanted to do since I was a kid.

K: Awwwwww, that's really cute. 

Me: Mmmmmhmmm.

K: So, like, if you weren't doing this, what else would you do?

Me: I think we just talked about this.   Well...given that I really just graduated and started my career, I can't really imagine doing anything else.  Which, you know, is probably a good thing with all the money I owe in student loans.

I laughed, half-heartedly.

K: Awwww, that's funny.  So...what else would you want to do?

Me:  Is your name Dory?  Have you met Nemo?  I guess I would want to be a writer.

K: That's like me!  You know, I want to be a publisher.

Me: Hey look!  A castle!***

And so it went.  Around...and around...and around...and when we ran out, we talked about how thick my hair is, and what sort of product I use in it, and how long it takes me to blow dry it and style it in the morning, and then talked about how it's okay that I don't have a boyfriend or children because I'm still young, and how it's okay that she doesn't have a boyfriend or children because she's still young, and we talked about the fact that she wants to be a ...yep, you guessed it...a publisher.

I don't know if I like the hair cut yet, but it hardly matters.  It's hair, and my hair grows so fast I probably won't even look like I got a hair cut by Monday morning.  I tipped Katie generously, just because.  Mostly because she's young and has no clue what she's doing, and is looking for answers between strands of strangers' hair she hates cutting. 

But next time...I'm waiting for Mindy. 

*Name has been changed, primarily because I forget her actual name...but also for privacy and whatnot

***If you have not seen "Finding Nemo," this will seem odd.  I apologize.  

Friday's list

I feel like I haven't really posted this week. Which, in all honesty, is probably because I haven't. This posting every day business gets hard when migraines get involved. I've been putting off writing tonight, even though it's probably what I need. I feel like a kid who doesn't want to take her medicine, claiming it will taste gross, so she cries and whines and screams about it, all the while knowing it probably tastes like grape candy and not that bad at all. And, in fact, it DOES taste like grape candy, with a little odd taste with it that is not entirely good, but definitely not bad enough to throw a fit over. My head still hurts with the tail end of this Migraine-From-Hell (this stupid migraine is acting like it moved into my brain and owns the place), and I have a bunch of things on my mind with no logical way of tying them together, so I'll make a list. It's a compromise: I'll take a LITTLE of the grape medicine, okay?  Just a LITTLE bit of it.

 1) Thank goodness it's Friday, right? My plan is to do as little as possible this weekend, while still getting a bunch done. I think I need to tweak some space-time continuum in order for this to happen. If I succeed, I'll let you know.

 2) Speaking of tweaking, a client's mother used the word "twerking" in therapy the other day in reference to her preschool age daughter. I totally lost my cool, calm, therapist composure. I'm lucky I have a really good relationship with this mother, because I was completely unprepared for a twerking reference in session. This actually isn't related to tweaking at all, but it was the only logical segue I could generate, and I find continuity in a post to be important.

 3) Know what else is really important? (Note the transition there). Hugs are important. Yesterday was a particularly rough day...so much so that I was grumpy at the end of it. It takes a lot for me to be grumpy, but I was grumpy. But...then I went to choir practice, and I made music that didn't entirely please our director, but was beautiful nonetheless. I felt like I was a small part of something intricately complicated and necessary, in a completely simple and unnecessary way...because that's it, isn't it? Music is so simple -- it is just a series of notes strung together to make something that is not vital to our daily functioning. And yet, we are voices coming together reading a series of dots and squiggles, and we are voices from so many places and ages and histories, and we are singing different pitches and different notes -- or the same notes, even -- and that art is vital to us, and our histories, and our societies, and our world. Those vibrations, those breaths, those shared moments...they're just necessary, not for any reason, but just because they are.

But anyway, I went to choir and was ready to leave when I was offered a hug. It's funny how you don't know you need things until they happen, but I needed that hug. It's amazing when that happens. It's amazing how things can change when you open yourself to being in community. It's one of the hardest things for me to do, and it's a daily struggle, but it's just necessary. I'd venture to say that hugs are necessary, too.

 4) I'm struggling and conflicted tonight with a complicated issue I may be making unnecessarily complicated. Life would be so much easier if I could have a "reality check" sensor in my brain that would go off every time I started overthinking something or thinking illogically. Wouldn't that be awesome? Your thoughts start to go a little off-course and a little alarm goes off saying, "Overthinking alert! Overthinking alert! Rein it in. Rein it in."

I don't like feeling like I can't do something. It makes me obstinate, which is not one of my more flattering qualities, although it makes me work well with the really strong-willed kiddos. Why? Because I totally get the concept of sticking to my guns, digging my heels in, and refusing to budge. I can wait. No worries. Even with the kid who took 55 minutes to comply with "sit in the chair" so she could watch her favorite movie. I can do 55 minutes of "it's time to sit in the chair." I can work for 55 minutes on "If you want to watch Doc McStuffins, you need to sit in the chair." I do that sort of battle with my brain all the time.

Sometimes, though, I think it's best just to let it go, right? Sometimes, it's best just to accept that the path has brought you to this point now, and that the best decision is simply to move forward. But...what if you just don't want to sit in the chair? Even if you know that sitting in the chair is easier? Even if you know that sitting in the chair will feel better in the short term? Even if you know that it really doesn't make THAT much difference if you sit in the chair or if you stand? Sitting in the chair would be the path of least resistance. Standing, though, that's going to take guts. I don't know if I have the chutzpah, quite honestly, and I'm not sure I want to find out...but I just don't want to sit in the damn chair.

 5) Remember this post where I said that we don't owe people our stories? I forgot that today, and I'm regretting it. I know it will be okay, but here's a reminder for you: we don't owe people our stories. It's a privilege when we tell others our stories, and it is not their right. Don't you forget that.

 Know what? The medicine wasn't all that bad. It stung just a little bit, but it was kinda sweet. Strawberry flavored. And I already feel better for having taken it.

 I knew I agreed to write every day for a reason.

Word-full Thursday

A day late and a dollar short on Wordless Wednesday...so here's someone else's words on Word-full Thursday.

Blah

It has been a rough two days. I had a migraine last night bad enough to prevent me from posting...or even remembering to post...at all. I went to bed super early, and then was promptly awake all night. 

You're not getting a real post tonight either because of (1) migraine and (2) the picture below. I'll leave it to your imagination. 

Monday's list

1) It kind of sucks when you call somebody to fix your heat, and they come...but only half fix it.  I love space heaters.  And blankets.  And my own 26.5 lb personal space heater named Marshall, aka Mo-Man.

2) After I wrote last night, I did go and meditate, and I did a body scan meditation before bed.  I woke up this morning with a headache (but not a migraine), and significantly less stressed about life.  Self-care: 1; Impending migraine: 0.

3) I am doing two presentations tomorrow.  How they both ended up on the same day is beyond me, but they're both on highly preferred topics, and one is technically a "didactic" and not a presentation (so I can elicit lots of conversation and participation.  I'm inexplicably jazzed about both of them, in spite of the fact that I am underprepared.

4) I got this from a friend today and you should check it out, because...goats.  Who doesn't love goats?  Particularly baby goats!!!!

5) I can't decide how I feel about this.  On the one hand, I think that, if it works, it's a great idea.  Let's use the devices we're all attached to for something really good.  I'll also admit that, while it doesn't address the underlying problem, maybe it's part of the answer for now.  If it increases safety now, let's do it.

On the other hand, it doesn't address the underlying problem.  While I would hope things like this would work in some situations, it definitely would not work in every situation, or even in most situations.  Also, most women are raped by people they know.  If you're having a fun night with friends/significant other, etc, are you going to have your phone on standby and your finger on the "call everyone I know" button?  For people in violent relationships, isn't their partner going to know they have this app and are paying the $4.99 per month to protect themselves?  And how many times would you potentially make a fake call -- either by pressing the wrong button, or feeling uncomfortable about something and sending out alerts/messages?  How many times do you get to "cry wolf" to your friends before they potentially just stop responding, or don't know whether to take it seriously?  Also, do we need something else that puts the responsibility on the woman?  I mean, we have to wear our rape-proof underwear, remember our phones (and have them accessible at just the right moment), AND we have to pay a monthly fee to alert our friends that we're about to be raped?

But then again...if it increases the safety of some individuals now...is it worth it?

I don't have any answers.

6) I find it hilarious that my dog loves playing with toilet paper tubes.  So much so, in fact, that he knows the sound of an empty toilet paper tube on the toilet paper holder and will force his way into the bathroom.  If there is not one immediately available to him, he will check the trash can and will take it out of the trash can to chew it up.

7) Related to number 6, stepping on gobs of wet, chewed cardboard is pretty much the grossest thing ever.

8) Related to number 5, I recommend this article.  It's one of the best I've seen on the whole Yoffe article issue that evolved, and the recent uptick in conversations about alcohol and sexual assault.  I'm really interested in the idea of bystander intervention, which the article touches on briefly, and I kind of want a reason to go and get certified in this program.  Anybody got a reason for me, other than "it sounds important and really interesting"?  I plan on writing more about the idea of bystander intervention.  No promises, but it is currently listed in the mental docket of upcoming posts.

I wanted this list to get to 10...but this is all I've got.  So 8 it is.  A more comprehensive post will be written on Wednesday, I promise.  I have to go finish those two presentations.  Oops.

When the universe says "stop"...

...you should stop.  Preferably the first time she says it.  Definitely by the time she is bellowing.

I could (should?) write an entire blog chronicling the evolution of my understanding and practice of self-care.  I've written a good deal about it, and theoretically, I have a really nice understanding.  Demonstrating this understanding and putting it into practice is another story.  It's a slow learning curve, for sure.

As you may have deduced last night, I was out of town yesterday and today.  I was also out of town last weekend.  The weekend before I was ridiculously busy.  In fact, for the last several weeks, I don't think I have found time to even sit on my couch, much less clean, catch up on washing dishes (have I ever mentioned that I hate not having a dishwasher?), or do other things here that make me feel like a normal, functioning human being.  I hadn't been to the grocery store in 3 weeks, and needed such basic essentials as...toilet paper.  The past 3 weeks have officially been too much.

At any rate, I got home later than I anticipated today.  By the time I was home and unpacked, it was nearly 3:30.  I gave myself 30 minutes to regroup, and then decided to run errands.  I did -- including grocery shopping -- and got home at 5:30.  I then unloaded the groceries, washed a couple dishes, cleaned my bathroom, and chopped up a bunch of veggies etc to put in the crockpot for some sort of mishegas that will hopefully be good.  After I did that, I noticed I was getting a headache.  I decided I don't have time for that, took a couple deep breaths and some Excedrin, and kept moving forward.

I paid some bills.  I sent an email.  I set up an appointment online.  I tried to plan out when I'm going to put together the presentation I'm giving on Tuesday.  I tried to figure out when I'm going to write more notes from last week.  I looked at my schedule for the week and attempted to write more into it.

And then I was getting tired.  And anxious.  And worn-out.  And headachey.  And the universe was saying "stop..." and I knew she was saying stop...but did I listen?  Pffffft.  Do you know me?  I decided to wash a couple more dishes.

So I did.  When I picked up the little blade piece from my food processor, though, the universe sought revenge.  Or, perhaps more accurately, she took advantage of the opportunity I presented her, and I somehow managed to slice my thumb.  There was blood all down my hand, and I have a lovely 1 inch cut down my right thumb.  It's not too deep, and I got it to stop bleeding eventually, but I just gave up after that.  I went and sat on the couch with the dog to sulk at the universe ruining my productivity, promptly fell asleep into a strange and anxious dream, and woke up confused 20 minutes later.

The funny thing is, this happened several weeks ago.  Not the same exact thing, but pretty close.  I was cooking or washing dishes or something, I was worn out, I had a headache...annnnnnnnnnnnnd I dropped (and broke) 2 dishes (which I then cut myself on).  You would think I would learn, right?

Believe it or not, when I'm mindful and centered and don't have a headache, I'm really not actually a clumsy person.  I swear.

I just seem to be so obstinate sometimes.  I know it's not worth it.  I just have a hard time actually listening and following through with that.  I even thought things like "just sit down for 10 minutes.  Or even a 5 minute sitting meditation will recenter and ground you.  Do it.  DO IT!"  But did I?  Of course not.

But why not?  I don't really know.  I just...I didn't want to.  You know?  Self-care is uncomfortable.  It feels like something you're supposed to hide.  It feels like something you keep on the shelf for special occasions with the good china.  You can take it out occasionally -- but only if you're careful.  Mostly, then, it feels like such a hassle to go, get it, unwrap it gently, rinse it off, use it, wash it carefully, wrap it back up and put it away...it feels almost like it's not worth it.

I've never liked china anyway, and I don't understand the point of having things that are "too good" to use regularly.  I don't want my self-care to be like the good china.  I want it to be brightly colored FiestaWare.  The type I take off the shelf day after day after day and use and wash like a ritual.  I want my self-care to be hearty and healthy and robust: something that can withstand the daily pressure of use and not crack or chip.

Apparently, I have a ways to go to get there.  Just ask my thumb.

Does this count? Or even work???

Sooooo.... I am posting this from my phone, which means that it will likely be short and riddled with typos. I am in a hotel after moving my sister into her new apartment all day, and my parents are here with me. I'm pretty worn out, and I can't get the internet to work on my laptop. I'm at a hotel. With my parents. After moving all day. With a headache. And I'm typing on the tiniest key board known to man. And the people next door are fighting about how Margaret is going to Hell. These factors do not necessarily make the creative juices flow. 

Happy Saturday and goodnight. 

Also, if this actually posts, here is a picture I took in the Sheetz parking lot. Somebody ran over happiness. I found that ironic and funny in a really creepy way I probably should not admit to many people.