Love? Lust? Lesbian? Later!...

Peace out L-Word!

It's been...weird. But I sorta feel the need to thank you. I guess personally, your exsistance was perfectly fitting. Something with which I could connect. A group of lezzies that I pretty much hate, but can't stop wanting to watch. A bunch of women whom I can't decide whether I want to punch or fu**. Cheers, L-Word! Call me sometime.

*check out my buddy, Brita's Random Rants (in my favorite blogs) to get the rundown.

Social Workers are people too???

They forgot to mention this part at orientation...they also left out the part where we will continue to care about people in our personal lives too...and sometimes shitty things happen to them.

“Vicarious Trauma

Strong emotions are a normal part of working with and/or knowing victims of crime. Victim assistance professionals…should expect to have their own emotions unbalanced at times. As victims unburden themselves with tales of horrific experiences, healers absorb some of the pain. In effect, they become witnesses to the traumatic experience. [Those in helping professions] may become subject to compassion fatigue, also known as burnout. In some cases, they risk an even more serious danger:

vicarious or secondary trauma...

Symptoms
Vicarious trauma is a stress reaction that may be experienced by victim assistance professionals who are exposed to disclosures of traumatic images and events by those seeking help. Helping professionals may experience long-lasting changes in how they view themselves, others, and the world.The symptoms of vicarious trauma are similar to, but usually not as severe as, those of post traumatic stress disorder, and can affect the lives and careers of even those with considerable training and experience in working with disaster and trauma survivors. They may include—
Intrusions such as flashbacks or nightmares.
Avoidance, in which the person tries to reduce exposure to the people or situations that might bring on his or her intrusive symptoms.
Hyperarousal or physical symptoms such as hypervigilance, sleeplessness, or increased startle response.

Risk Factors
Factors that increase the risk of vicarious trauma include—
Unexpected or repeated exposure to trauma.
The degree of empathy that a victim assistance professional or loved one feels for the victim's suffering.
Unresolved emotional issues.

Prevention and Response
It is crucial for those who work with or are personally connected to victims to find ongoing support systems for themselves, and to identify situations that may trigger unresolved emotional issues and refer such cases to a colleague. Often, simply acknowledging the effect on one that others' pain has can be one of the best coping mechanisms. The victim assistance community also may be able to provide support by using established debriefing techniques. Finally, for those who are exposed to a mass victimization, participation in a well-run critical incident stress debriefing (CISD) may be helpful.”

For the record, that last part never really happens...or let's say rarely, to be safe. Some feel it makes them weak and/or selfish to tap into that...but oddly would never feel that a friend or colleague who accessed that resource was weak or selfish. Weird.

Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

If I were to talk to you in person I’d have no idea what to say to you. Because there’s nothing to say. I’m sure so many people have told you they love you and that they’ll be there in anyway you need them to be. I’m sure they mean it and I’m sure you believe them. But really beyond that, we’re powerless. I’m powerless to do anything that could be even remotely healing. I guess mostly because you’d never let me, but still. It is my job to heal people. I do it (or at least I try to) everyday. Then at the end of the day, I lock up my files securely (it’s the law) I tidy my desk (well, sometimes), and I head for the bus/train. And I leave it there. All of their pain and fear is in my office. Locked in my filing cabinets. I read my books and text my friends and listen to my music on the way home. And I don’t think about them until I return to the office the next day. I come home nearly every day to the sweetest greeting. A tiny little man whose head comes up to my waist jumps into my arms and squeezes me with all of his strength around my neck and kisses me with these funny kisses where he puckers so tightly it’s laughable. You’d really have to see it to know what I’m talking about. And while all this is happening I’m bombarded by wagging tales…all before I can even put my bag down. Sounds annoying. It’s not. I guess that’s what it is to be loved. We make dinner and read books. We sing a lot. We play the piano and the guitar and we watch the SAME DAMN MOVIE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Then bath time. A few small arguments and power struggles. Cuddle on the couch, and then to bed. Then I try to create some order in the house by collecting all of the match box cars, puzzle pieces, and single socks that have been strewn about the house all day,

Now it’s me time. I can watch grown-up shows and read books without pictures. Take a shower (maybe). Get on the internet. It all sounds small, but trust me when you have to schedule them, they become a big deal. There’s the downside: Money. Time management. Feeling suffocated sometimes. Just plain wanting to go to the bathroom by yourself! But it still ends up being worth it. This is pretty much my life, with small variations from day to day. It may mean that I’m cold, but I never bring the suffering of my clients home with me. I thought myself to be an expert on removing myself from issues that are not my own and knowing that there are very few things that are within my control. I believed that was a strength of mine in my field. And then there was you. I’m so sad for you. And scared for you. And hurt for you. Pain, anger, fear…today they ate dinner with us, took a bath with us, watched us sing our songs. They will read our books with us and will be going to bed with me. They’re not welcome in my home and yet they rudely refuse my demands to depart. The thing is if I know one thing about you it is that you are a survivor. I have no doubt about that. The only reasonable thing I can come up with is that I am selfish. How dare I cry and mourn and rage and panic over what is yours? I can’t stand myself right now. I can’t stand how I expect someone to console me. To make me understand. To make me feel safe and strong.

And I can’t stand how all I can do is say that I love you. I have since the day you called my name from the patio at Starbucks. And it’s so not enough and seemingly mundane to say, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurt and then again by being failed by the very thing you’ve committed your heart, soul, and life to. And I wish I could help. I wish I could tell some sort of joke that would make you laugh until your side hurt, or perform some gesture that would make you feel warm and loved. You’re so special to me. You always will be. I guess the selfish part of me is begging you not to disappear. I don’t mean physically (though I don’t want that either), but I mean you. The woman who has made me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before, pissed me off more than I ever been pissed off, made me involuntarily hold my breath just by feeling you. The woman who unselfishly took time out of her day on more than one occasion to take care of me because I was having a bad day is not someone who I can stand to lose. I have no right to ask this of you. It’s none of my business. This is your life and you will do what you please. But I wanted to tell you what knowing you means to me and how my heart breaks for you having had this experience. Remember, summer will be here before we know it. Your hair always looks so pretty in the sun.

Love always, unconditionally,
rem

This Is EXTRA Not Ok...

This is not ok…

It is -20 degrees with wind the chill factor outside…I am therefore, trapped. I cannot find the remote and I have one of those cable box things that doesn’t have buttons on it or anything. I can’t change the channel. There is a Jonathan Taylor Thomas Christmas movie on. This Is Not Ok.

The Upside: Jessica Biel is in the movie.

This Is Not Ok...

"Like many, I find the holidays to be stressful…the impending doom of financial demise, nightmarish travel, being a social worker during this time (there's LOTS going on there), and of course, FAMILY TIME, kinda makes me want to scratch my eyes out…or someone else's. But it isn't really cool to ruin other people's holidays just because you're not into it. It's a downer. I find it's best to find other outlets to purge the ick and spare the population of your (my) poison. So as an alternative to hurling myself off of the LaSalle St. Bridge, I think I will instead address my most recent annoyances in this next installment of This Is Not Ok. Maybe people just don't know what's not ok. So let's make it a fair and level playing field. Per usual, I will point out things that are not ok, and there. I've said it. Now you know. Additionally, maybe there are those who can now relate. Perhaps all we need is to communicate better. Perhaps we will create unity around things that are not ok! And we can go out into the world defeating the Not Oks, making it a better place (for me)! And isn't that what the holidays are about? Unity? Bringing people together? Me? To begin…The newest in This Is Not Ok…

· The lovey-dovey make out couple across from me on the train last night. I don't just find you annoying, I ACTUALLY hate you. Hate is strong word…and I hate you.
· Audible yawning.
· Big, fat, wide public yawns without covering your mouth.
· Throwing shoes at our president. He sucks. Badly. But you can't really throw your shoe at him. It's insulting to the US. Plus, what if it were something more deadly? I mean…look at our back-up plan. If anyone can do a lot of damage in a month it's THAT GUY!
· My parents. Just trust me on this one.
· Work parties. WHY do I have to go to these things?
· Law Students. Sorry baby, it's just…well, not ok. It's not your fault. I'm pretty sure law school blows.
· Status dating. Gross.
· The "77threeee-20twoooo-Lunaaaaaa" song.
· The "800-5eeeeight-eeeeight, 23hundreeed, Empiiiiiiiiire…" song.
· Public transportation riding, ring-tone testers.
· The Clark bus.
· High School kids on the Clark bus…and the redline…and the Halsted bus…
· Shows about finding out who is the father. I feel like that may just be a private matter.
· My dog, Sonny. He's a real jerkface.
· President-elect Obama STILL asking me for money. I don't have any. That's part of the reason I voted for you.
· Anne S. moving away. That was super, not ok.
· My future children. Trust me…it's a pretty safe bet.
· Rod Blagojevich. He is UBER-not ok.
· The name Rod.
· My student loan debt.
· The View.
· Regis and Kelly.
· Regis.
· Kelly.
· Proposition 8.
· That I talk to my ex's. Jesus, I'm a pussy.
· Graduate school. It's a hassle and you're not actually guaranteed to make more money.
· The temperature in my office. Why am I wearing a scarf and a hat inside?
· People who make fun of street performers. You try it, asshole.
· The fact that at this very moment I am both hungry AND fat. What's a girl to do?
· How much OTHER people's weddings cost me…and I can't even have one to get back at them someday.
· Madonna's accent.
· Serving sizes on cereals. Yeah right. For a butterfly.
· That I have to be at work for six more hours and can't handle the thought of six more minutes.
· That Starbucks doesn't deliver. The whole reason I need coffee is because I'm tired and can't move yet. p.s. It's REALLY cold out! Bring it to me.
· Crotch tattoos.
· Me…for once dating someone with a crotch tattoo…to be fair the tattoo came after we had already begun dating. But still…
· To expand on one of my previous points; a dog who eats my underpants. Underpants don't grow on trees!
· The word underpants…though I prefer it to "panties." Panties is a pervert word.
· People who dump you during the holiday season. Very uncool and somewhat traumatizing…creating yet ONE MORE negative connotation to the holiday season. Neat-o.
· The amount of times I can watch Little Women and still cry every time Beth dies. SHUT UP! That Claire Danes is very convincing!
· The amount of times I've watched (will watch) Little Women.

Whelp…that oughta do it for now. Mind you, that's just what came to me in this sitting. There will be more to come in the next installment of This Is Not Ok (aka Free Therapy). Feel free to add to it…you may even attempt to defend yourself if you feel you've been called out…just make sure I don't know where you live or that you operate under a pseudo name…OOH! Stay tuned for This is Awesome! #1. The phrase "pseudo name" and people who pronounce it as pseudonym…with a British accent."

Tattoo You

So, um...I just...well, see...this. I...this is not ok.

What's werid is that a certain coach I once had used to call us monkey asses. Turns out I'm not one.

At Last. My Love Has Come Along...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! I CAN'T GET OVER IT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!