One of my 8th grade girls is exceptional. She stands out from her peers because she's so smart and capable. But not just that, she acts on her potential. But she's quiet. And when I first met her, I thought she was quiet because she's shy -- and she is a little. But as I've gotten to know her, I've realized her quiet is more about taking in her surroundings. She's learned to be wary of most things so she's constantly reading and re-reading situations. Assessing how much of herself she can be in any given situation.
This year she's one of my student council members. In fact, she has a special designation even within the student council group. As such, she gets to spend the end of the day in my office helping us with stuff. An office assistant, basically. We didn't have anything for them to do today, so I spent some time talking to them. We got on the topic of what makes a good counselor and she shared that she's never felt comfortable talking to a counselor. Her reasons for why were many. Basically a combo of not trusting and adults not understanding.
As I kept asking questions to probe her thoughts on this, she started sharing bits of herself with me. But she was doing it as she was also telling me she didn't like to talk about herself with adults or people she (essentially) hasn't vetted. In the same conversation where she told me she doesn't trust anyone and doesn't have trusted adults in her life, she told me all about the friends she has who she doesn't trust. She told me about familial issues. She told me about feeling mistreated because her Nigerian aunts don't like her American mother. She even told me she doesn't say "I love you" or "I'm sorry" because she thinks they don't mean anything anymore.
I toyed with the idea of pointing all of this out to her, but I was enjoying watching her open up so I didn't. It was evident to me that while she was telling me she holds everything in, she was EAGER to get it all out. Apparently it was easier for her to feel like she was holding on to bits and pieces while she shared bits and pieces. Once she got started, though, she really couldn't stop. Another, much more vocal and verbal, student kept trying to share his experiences, but the rush of being able to share hers, wouldn't let her stop long enough for him, even with his overbearing ways, to get a word in edgewise.
I recognized what was happening to her because it's happened to me. That moment where you feel like you can finally let some stuff go in a safe space. It'll come tumbling out and you can't stop it. It just feels good to let it go. And you know, I was reminded today (not that I need a reminder) why I do what I do. For moments like those. Where a student is holding on so tightly to her identity as a put together on the outside, but falling a part on the inside individual all the while letting you see pieces of the broken parts.
She didn't show me everything. She may never show me everything. But the fact that she felt like she could do with me what she never does with anyone else... I did something right.
Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts
10.24.2013
8.27.2012
Trust Me
I love my kids.
My students.
My 7th graders.
I love them and I've only known them 3 weeks. Half of them don't even know me yet. They've seen me in the hallways, interrupting their classes, talking to their teachers. But I've been so overworked with administrative duties that have nothing to do with what I just earned a Master's degree to do that I've only had an opportunity to get in the classroom and introduce myself to half of the 7th grade.
So only half of them know that it's my job to get them through the rest of their middle school career in as much of one piece as possible. Only half of them know that if they need someone to talk to, I'm it and will be for the rest of their middle school career. Only half of them are aware of the fact that I have so many tools at my disposal that I can't wait to use to help them be the great students they're destined to be.
I talk about them and think of them in very high esteem, but that doesn't make me unaware of the realities of their lives. They're 12 and 13 and they want to be liked by their friends, and the girls want boys to see them and boys want the girls to be interested in them and some of the girls want some of the other girls to be interested in them in some way that's more than friendship but really unfamiliar and some of the boys want to express themselves in ways that others might think is just too feminine. That's just the tip of the iceberg. They got a lot going on that's so much more basic and real than being the great students they have the capabilities of being.
But in my 3, going on 4 weeks as their counselor, I've already had a host of issues to deal with. Already had to call DCS on an abusive parent; been told to expect to call DCS again on another family who does drugs and makes their child sick. That's the part of my job I hate, but that I know is so important.
I'm in the middle of reading a post at CFC called "Memories, survival and safety." The author is detailing a traumatic event that transpired between herself and her grandfather. And I found myself struggling to read it, especially the parts where she talks about being young and wishing she had the guts to tell anyone what had happened to her, but feeling like it had happened to her because she was a bad little girl.
I could see any one of my 7th graders experiencing something like that and being afraid to tell. It would kill me if in 2 years, once my 7th graders are 9th graders at the local high school, I discovered one of them had been hurt at any point while they were mine and didn't know they could come tell me. But you know, it'd kill me to know any of them were being hurt anyway.
Today, one of the girls who is in the half of the 7th grade that knows me and knows I'm their counselor stopped by to talk. She's experiencing some growing pains; she feels loved less by her mother in comparison to her sisters. She longs for the stability and love her grandmother provided. She's not in danger, really, just needs to know somebody out there cares.
I asked her if she wanted to talk about things she might do to open up lines of communication with her mother and she said, "No. I just wanted to talk to you about it. That makes me feel better. I trust you."
I joke about the crazy things these kids do. I even pretend sometimes that I'm not as attached to them as I am, but when a student tells you something like that, you can't help but be grateful to them and to whoever or whatever offered you the chance to sit in that chair and be the one they trust.
My students.
My 7th graders.
I love them and I've only known them 3 weeks. Half of them don't even know me yet. They've seen me in the hallways, interrupting their classes, talking to their teachers. But I've been so overworked with administrative duties that have nothing to do with what I just earned a Master's degree to do that I've only had an opportunity to get in the classroom and introduce myself to half of the 7th grade.
So only half of them know that it's my job to get them through the rest of their middle school career in as much of one piece as possible. Only half of them know that if they need someone to talk to, I'm it and will be for the rest of their middle school career. Only half of them are aware of the fact that I have so many tools at my disposal that I can't wait to use to help them be the great students they're destined to be.
I talk about them and think of them in very high esteem, but that doesn't make me unaware of the realities of their lives. They're 12 and 13 and they want to be liked by their friends, and the girls want boys to see them and boys want the girls to be interested in them and some of the girls want some of the other girls to be interested in them in some way that's more than friendship but really unfamiliar and some of the boys want to express themselves in ways that others might think is just too feminine. That's just the tip of the iceberg. They got a lot going on that's so much more basic and real than being the great students they have the capabilities of being.
But in my 3, going on 4 weeks as their counselor, I've already had a host of issues to deal with. Already had to call DCS on an abusive parent; been told to expect to call DCS again on another family who does drugs and makes their child sick. That's the part of my job I hate, but that I know is so important.
I'm in the middle of reading a post at CFC called "Memories, survival and safety." The author is detailing a traumatic event that transpired between herself and her grandfather. And I found myself struggling to read it, especially the parts where she talks about being young and wishing she had the guts to tell anyone what had happened to her, but feeling like it had happened to her because she was a bad little girl.
I could see any one of my 7th graders experiencing something like that and being afraid to tell. It would kill me if in 2 years, once my 7th graders are 9th graders at the local high school, I discovered one of them had been hurt at any point while they were mine and didn't know they could come tell me. But you know, it'd kill me to know any of them were being hurt anyway.
Today, one of the girls who is in the half of the 7th grade that knows me and knows I'm their counselor stopped by to talk. She's experiencing some growing pains; she feels loved less by her mother in comparison to her sisters. She longs for the stability and love her grandmother provided. She's not in danger, really, just needs to know somebody out there cares.
I asked her if she wanted to talk about things she might do to open up lines of communication with her mother and she said, "No. I just wanted to talk to you about it. That makes me feel better. I trust you."
I joke about the crazy things these kids do. I even pretend sometimes that I'm not as attached to them as I am, but when a student tells you something like that, you can't help but be grateful to them and to whoever or whatever offered you the chance to sit in that chair and be the one they trust.
5.03.2012
...you just might find, you get what you need...
I've always liked that Rolling Stone's song. Always appreciated the diction in the famous line. My man Mick tell us that we CAN'T always get what we want. Not that we don't or may not, but we can't. It's just not possible to always get what we want, but sometimes, he tells us, SOMETIMES, folks... we just MIGHT find we get what we need... *in my southern preacher voice*
These last two days showed me that Mick, whether he knew it or not, was smack dead on the point. You can't always get what you want but sometimes you do get what you need, aka, Jesus will always come through in the clutch (and sometimes when you have no idea you need Him to).
Tuesday evening my program had its annual end of the year banquet. What the banquet is for is still, after many years of occurrence, in development, but generally the idea is to honor the graduating students and acknowledge their time in the program. This is also the time that the Roger F. Aubrey North Star Award, given to honor a student for excellence in leadership, academics and service, is announced. In our program this is a big deal; in truth it is the only deal. Students are nominated by their peers and then chosen by the core faculty in the program.
I was aware I had been nominated for the award because I had to write an essay. A total lie would be to say I did not care if I won. I had a vague idea of who had been nominated and just that vague idea let me know I had stiff competition. Another total lie would be to say no one knows who I am in this program. Everyone knows who I am and it was for that reason that it just felt... wrong... to expect to win.
This is something I battle with. How much is too much when it comes to horn tooting? Did I deserve the award? Sure I did. But so did everyone who was nominated and why would I be special? Why not highlight the accomplishments and hard work of some students who maybe didn't get as much shine as I did over the last two years. Basically, I fell back into that "who am I to be great" mode of thinking that is actually pretty damn protective and a favored go-to of mine when I don't want to be let down.
The truth is that I have some vague awareness that I'm a special person. I've surely been told that I am enough. At some point in my future I'll be able to hypothesize about the idea that people who are meant for greatness go through a specific developmental set of stages on their way to greatness. Right now, the stage that I'm most aware of is the "wanting to see self as others do." It's this place where you know you might actually be everything everyone says you are, but you just can't see it. In their song "Like I Am," Rascal Flatts sing a couple of lyrics I love, "but will I ever see all the things you see in me" and "when you say that I'm one of a kind, baby I don't see it, but you believe it..." That's where I am. People keep telling me so it must be true and now I'm ready to see it for myself. Sure, sometimes I repeat what I'm told, but it is often the same as when a young child emulates something their father does - they do it because someone they trust did it, not because they understand what it means.
Anyway, there I sat last night listening to the introduction of the person who would be named the 2012 Roger F. Aubrey North Star Award recipient. I listened as one of my professors talked about how Roger Aubrey, the man the award is named for, was the type of person who made everyone feel like they were special. How everyone commented that when he talked to them he made them feel like they were the only person that mattered. And before I could really comprehend what he said more than to think "I hope I make people feel that way," my professor said my name and I really had that moment where everything was happening in slow motion.
At my peers' request I gave a brief speech and I was sincere. As sincere as I know how to be. I thanked them repeatedly, I expressed my sincere surprise at winning (even named the individual I thought would actually win) and told them that anything I had accomplished in my 2 years was absolutely because I had been blessed enough to complete this period of my life with an amazing group of people.
After the program was over, I got a hug from almost everyone present, including all of my professors and everyone congratulated me, several folks told me they were happy I received the award and felt it was right for me and one of my favorite people even said she wished I would win. It's nice to know you're noticed, it's nice to know you're loved and it's great to know people care and care enough to say so.
Afterwards I text all of my friends to tell them I had won and I was taken aback at the genuine happiness I got back from all of them. Everyone was happy for me and I heard from them what I heard all night from my peers. You're great, you deserved it and I'm happy for you. My last post was a lot about how much I've been needing that from my peers, my friends, the folks who matter to me. I've wanted it for a while -- and I wasn't getting it. But I got it last night and I needed it last night even though I don't think I realized that until I had it.
And then this morning one of my best (and oldest) friends called me to say she was an hour away and wanted to have lunch with me. Best surprise all year. Funny - I was thinking not too long ago how much I'd like to be surprised once in my life. I'm thinking I needed that, too.
These last two days showed me that Mick, whether he knew it or not, was smack dead on the point. You can't always get what you want but sometimes you do get what you need, aka, Jesus will always come through in the clutch (and sometimes when you have no idea you need Him to).
Tuesday evening my program had its annual end of the year banquet. What the banquet is for is still, after many years of occurrence, in development, but generally the idea is to honor the graduating students and acknowledge their time in the program. This is also the time that the Roger F. Aubrey North Star Award, given to honor a student for excellence in leadership, academics and service, is announced. In our program this is a big deal; in truth it is the only deal. Students are nominated by their peers and then chosen by the core faculty in the program.
I was aware I had been nominated for the award because I had to write an essay. A total lie would be to say I did not care if I won. I had a vague idea of who had been nominated and just that vague idea let me know I had stiff competition. Another total lie would be to say no one knows who I am in this program. Everyone knows who I am and it was for that reason that it just felt... wrong... to expect to win.
This is something I battle with. How much is too much when it comes to horn tooting? Did I deserve the award? Sure I did. But so did everyone who was nominated and why would I be special? Why not highlight the accomplishments and hard work of some students who maybe didn't get as much shine as I did over the last two years. Basically, I fell back into that "who am I to be great" mode of thinking that is actually pretty damn protective and a favored go-to of mine when I don't want to be let down.
The truth is that I have some vague awareness that I'm a special person. I've surely been told that I am enough. At some point in my future I'll be able to hypothesize about the idea that people who are meant for greatness go through a specific developmental set of stages on their way to greatness. Right now, the stage that I'm most aware of is the "wanting to see self as others do." It's this place where you know you might actually be everything everyone says you are, but you just can't see it. In their song "Like I Am," Rascal Flatts sing a couple of lyrics I love, "but will I ever see all the things you see in me" and "when you say that I'm one of a kind, baby I don't see it, but you believe it..." That's where I am. People keep telling me so it must be true and now I'm ready to see it for myself. Sure, sometimes I repeat what I'm told, but it is often the same as when a young child emulates something their father does - they do it because someone they trust did it, not because they understand what it means.
Anyway, there I sat last night listening to the introduction of the person who would be named the 2012 Roger F. Aubrey North Star Award recipient. I listened as one of my professors talked about how Roger Aubrey, the man the award is named for, was the type of person who made everyone feel like they were special. How everyone commented that when he talked to them he made them feel like they were the only person that mattered. And before I could really comprehend what he said more than to think "I hope I make people feel that way," my professor said my name and I really had that moment where everything was happening in slow motion.
At my peers' request I gave a brief speech and I was sincere. As sincere as I know how to be. I thanked them repeatedly, I expressed my sincere surprise at winning (even named the individual I thought would actually win) and told them that anything I had accomplished in my 2 years was absolutely because I had been blessed enough to complete this period of my life with an amazing group of people.
After the program was over, I got a hug from almost everyone present, including all of my professors and everyone congratulated me, several folks told me they were happy I received the award and felt it was right for me and one of my favorite people even said she wished I would win. It's nice to know you're noticed, it's nice to know you're loved and it's great to know people care and care enough to say so.
Afterwards I text all of my friends to tell them I had won and I was taken aback at the genuine happiness I got back from all of them. Everyone was happy for me and I heard from them what I heard all night from my peers. You're great, you deserved it and I'm happy for you. My last post was a lot about how much I've been needing that from my peers, my friends, the folks who matter to me. I've wanted it for a while -- and I wasn't getting it. But I got it last night and I needed it last night even though I don't think I realized that until I had it.
And then this morning one of my best (and oldest) friends called me to say she was an hour away and wanted to have lunch with me. Best surprise all year. Funny - I was thinking not too long ago how much I'd like to be surprised once in my life. I'm thinking I needed that, too.
4.23.2012
Accomplishments
Had a good weekend with friends. Two friends stayed with me on separate nights and each of those nights I was up late with them reminiscing on old times and talking about our present lives. It always makes me feel good to be able to verbalize things with a trusted confidant.
One thing I vocalized with one of the friends that I've not ever talked about, except maybe for a brief rant on Twitter, was about how I feel about my upcoming graduation. I've downplayed the accomplishment of getting a Master's degree. Some of that has been because I've come to realize that though it shouldn't be, my education can be intimidating to some. Some of the reasoning has been also because I don't think I've really understood what a big deal it is for me to (practically) have this, Not everyone graduates from college and even fewer go on to get post-graduate degrees so me being here is no laughing or unimportant matter.
In my mind, this M.Ed is happening because in order to do what I want to do I need it and, to be honest, was there ever a question that I could get it done? Of course not. So why would we get excited about the inevitable?
The general sentiment about my upcoming graduation can be summed up by a quote from my mother: "folks are tired of you graduating..."
My mother is proud of me, she tells me that all the time. There are others in my family who are proud as well and have told me, but I can't shake that statement. This thought that because I've graduated before, because I've proven to be the type of person to do well in school and accomplish things of this nature that it's not an important enough happening for people to just care about is starting to hurt.
So as I processed this with my friend, I began to realize that whether I recognized it or not, I've worked my ass off for this degree. Real blood, real sweat and definitely real tears. One of my professors warned us that we would do a lot of growth and changing and I did not believe him. I did not think I had a lot of growing to do that wasn't professionally. I was self-assured that as a self-aware black woman, I had done all the growing I was going to do for this period of my life. I was epicly wrong.
I also don't think I really became aware of how wrong I was to think that until lately. Not just my time in this program, but my time not in the working world and back in school has been so eye-opening. I have grown. I am more selfish and more worried about my own well-being, specifically mentally, than I was before. I am more apt to tell someone no. I do think about the long term mental/emotional effects of the things I take on and the things I agree to do. I am more cognizant of who has unfiltered access to me and who I'm willing to go that extra mile for. I'm not perfect and I know it and I'm not worried that my imperfections make me an unworthy person. I still have people in my life that I wish I could get rid of but I trust myself more to do a better job of not letting those types back in.
Basically, I was pretty damn awesome 2 years ago, but this process has made me, incredibly, even more awesome than that and I get it and I respect it and I want to protect it.
2 years ago a friend of mine told me I had a gift that was God-given and that I needed to be careful with it, take care of it, not misuse it. I have the ability to do that now; I can and do believe I was given a set of skills that few are given and that whether I can exactly explain them or how I use them I must be careful with them. Being careful with them has meant being careful with myself.
So now that I'm about to celebrate these last 2 years and all this work I've done and all of the growth I've undergone and the way I think I like myself, but more than that, believe in myself more today than I did 2 years ago it hurts to know that there are those who I thought had been behind me these last 48 months that really haven't. Folks who don't get it, who don't see the change and/or don't care about the change. I wish more of my friends and family were congratulating me, that's true. I'd love for them to be here for the ceremony but honestly all I want is a congratulations... text me, email me, smoke signal me... just acknowledge that I worked my ass off, that I went through a rough time for almost a full two years and I made it out the other side.
And you know, even though I'm hurting because of how I've been ignored so far, I see this as a potential blessing in disguise. Whatever cuts need to be made need to happen now because it's time for me to step into whatever it is that's gonna make me great and somebody everyone remembers.
One thing I vocalized with one of the friends that I've not ever talked about, except maybe for a brief rant on Twitter, was about how I feel about my upcoming graduation. I've downplayed the accomplishment of getting a Master's degree. Some of that has been because I've come to realize that though it shouldn't be, my education can be intimidating to some. Some of the reasoning has been also because I don't think I've really understood what a big deal it is for me to (practically) have this, Not everyone graduates from college and even fewer go on to get post-graduate degrees so me being here is no laughing or unimportant matter.
In my mind, this M.Ed is happening because in order to do what I want to do I need it and, to be honest, was there ever a question that I could get it done? Of course not. So why would we get excited about the inevitable?
The general sentiment about my upcoming graduation can be summed up by a quote from my mother: "folks are tired of you graduating..."
My mother is proud of me, she tells me that all the time. There are others in my family who are proud as well and have told me, but I can't shake that statement. This thought that because I've graduated before, because I've proven to be the type of person to do well in school and accomplish things of this nature that it's not an important enough happening for people to just care about is starting to hurt.
So as I processed this with my friend, I began to realize that whether I recognized it or not, I've worked my ass off for this degree. Real blood, real sweat and definitely real tears. One of my professors warned us that we would do a lot of growth and changing and I did not believe him. I did not think I had a lot of growing to do that wasn't professionally. I was self-assured that as a self-aware black woman, I had done all the growing I was going to do for this period of my life. I was epicly wrong.
I also don't think I really became aware of how wrong I was to think that until lately. Not just my time in this program, but my time not in the working world and back in school has been so eye-opening. I have grown. I am more selfish and more worried about my own well-being, specifically mentally, than I was before. I am more apt to tell someone no. I do think about the long term mental/emotional effects of the things I take on and the things I agree to do. I am more cognizant of who has unfiltered access to me and who I'm willing to go that extra mile for. I'm not perfect and I know it and I'm not worried that my imperfections make me an unworthy person. I still have people in my life that I wish I could get rid of but I trust myself more to do a better job of not letting those types back in.
Basically, I was pretty damn awesome 2 years ago, but this process has made me, incredibly, even more awesome than that and I get it and I respect it and I want to protect it.
2 years ago a friend of mine told me I had a gift that was God-given and that I needed to be careful with it, take care of it, not misuse it. I have the ability to do that now; I can and do believe I was given a set of skills that few are given and that whether I can exactly explain them or how I use them I must be careful with them. Being careful with them has meant being careful with myself.
So now that I'm about to celebrate these last 2 years and all this work I've done and all of the growth I've undergone and the way I think I like myself, but more than that, believe in myself more today than I did 2 years ago it hurts to know that there are those who I thought had been behind me these last 48 months that really haven't. Folks who don't get it, who don't see the change and/or don't care about the change. I wish more of my friends and family were congratulating me, that's true. I'd love for them to be here for the ceremony but honestly all I want is a congratulations... text me, email me, smoke signal me... just acknowledge that I worked my ass off, that I went through a rough time for almost a full two years and I made it out the other side.
And you know, even though I'm hurting because of how I've been ignored so far, I see this as a potential blessing in disguise. Whatever cuts need to be made need to happen now because it's time for me to step into whatever it is that's gonna make me great and somebody everyone remembers.
1.23.2012
Who Has the Power?
I do a lot of ranting on my twitter timeline about how we're failing our kids and how they act up and out and work my nerves.
Just to catch everyone up, I'm in school to earn a degree that will allow me to help kids succeed in school; that is if I'm in a school that believes a strong counseling program in conjunction with a generally supportive school environment, great teachers and support for parents, yields excellent results.
This semester we're at a middle school; I've been excited about this internship. I've had a lot of experience over the years working with teens so my internship last semester was just more experience on top of what I had but this time I'm doing something familiar but still a little different. In my middle school I work primarily with 6th and 8th graders and every day is a new lesson for them and me.
I also really want to add that I find myself telling them stuff that I turn around and tell my undergrads, which is a whole other issue -- why 18+ yr olds need to hear the same thing 12 yr olds need.
So Thursday one of my 6th graders barged in and complained that she told a new friend (the student is, herself, new) a secret about herself. The secret was pretty juicy and the new friend had no qualms about telling her friends the secret and of course those friends came in the next day and told their friends -- the secret was all over the 6th grade by lunch and they had a ball walking up to this student and calling her vulgar names. She was understandably very upset and wanted some answers.
I switched into Counselor Ranger and got everything between the girls squared away and assured the student that while the kids would probably continue to be mean for the rest of the week, by Monday everyone would have forgotten all about her secret and moved on to the next person.
As right as I was, I know that the truth here is less that these people were calling her names and more that she entrusted a piece of herself to someone who misused it. To that point, I harped heavily on the importance of being careful who you share your secrets with. When initially confronted, the friend claimed that she had never been told not to tell, so I asked her to consider when she tells her friends something personal whether or not she assumes they know that it's not to be repeated, she did. So I cautioned them both to be a lot more careful about who they tell stuff to.
As I've thought more about the situation, I've felt like this was absolutely a situation that a lot of adults could learn from. How often are we too free with things that are personal and private, only to be so shocked when we find out someone we trusted told it to others?
In high school I told a guy that I liked him. It wasn't a secret, like "no one can ever know...really, but I thought the conversation was just between us. I found out two years later that almost all of our friends (and some folks I didn't know) knew and had been talking about the incident when I wasn't around. My mind raced as to all the things they might've said about me, maybe laughing at me for thinking I could date this guy or for being so forward; I could only imagine the things said that I would never know about. So what if that had been a much more personal item? My 14 yr old self might've been devastated.
Everyone isn't equipped to hold your stuff. Meaning, everyone doesn't have the skill it takes to become aware of a sensitive piece of you and then keep it to themselves. Some people have to pass off the weight of a heavy secret as quickly as possible and as another counselor said today "knowledge is power, especially in middle school" -- he wasn't referring to academics. When you know something about someone else that no one or not a lot of people know, you have power. So it follows that if you tell someone something about you that not a lot of people know, you give them power. Be careful who your power goes to.
And let me be clear that I'm not saying don't share yourself with people. I'm saying, as I said to my 6th graders, be CAREFUL who you share yourself with. Every piece of you is one more piece of power and not everyone can handle power; it's intoxicating.
Just to catch everyone up, I'm in school to earn a degree that will allow me to help kids succeed in school; that is if I'm in a school that believes a strong counseling program in conjunction with a generally supportive school environment, great teachers and support for parents, yields excellent results.
This semester we're at a middle school; I've been excited about this internship. I've had a lot of experience over the years working with teens so my internship last semester was just more experience on top of what I had but this time I'm doing something familiar but still a little different. In my middle school I work primarily with 6th and 8th graders and every day is a new lesson for them and me.
I also really want to add that I find myself telling them stuff that I turn around and tell my undergrads, which is a whole other issue -- why 18+ yr olds need to hear the same thing 12 yr olds need.
So Thursday one of my 6th graders barged in and complained that she told a new friend (the student is, herself, new) a secret about herself. The secret was pretty juicy and the new friend had no qualms about telling her friends the secret and of course those friends came in the next day and told their friends -- the secret was all over the 6th grade by lunch and they had a ball walking up to this student and calling her vulgar names. She was understandably very upset and wanted some answers.
I switched into Counselor Ranger and got everything between the girls squared away and assured the student that while the kids would probably continue to be mean for the rest of the week, by Monday everyone would have forgotten all about her secret and moved on to the next person.
As right as I was, I know that the truth here is less that these people were calling her names and more that she entrusted a piece of herself to someone who misused it. To that point, I harped heavily on the importance of being careful who you share your secrets with. When initially confronted, the friend claimed that she had never been told not to tell, so I asked her to consider when she tells her friends something personal whether or not she assumes they know that it's not to be repeated, she did. So I cautioned them both to be a lot more careful about who they tell stuff to.
As I've thought more about the situation, I've felt like this was absolutely a situation that a lot of adults could learn from. How often are we too free with things that are personal and private, only to be so shocked when we find out someone we trusted told it to others?
In high school I told a guy that I liked him. It wasn't a secret, like "no one can ever know...really, but I thought the conversation was just between us. I found out two years later that almost all of our friends (and some folks I didn't know) knew and had been talking about the incident when I wasn't around. My mind raced as to all the things they might've said about me, maybe laughing at me for thinking I could date this guy or for being so forward; I could only imagine the things said that I would never know about. So what if that had been a much more personal item? My 14 yr old self might've been devastated.
Everyone isn't equipped to hold your stuff. Meaning, everyone doesn't have the skill it takes to become aware of a sensitive piece of you and then keep it to themselves. Some people have to pass off the weight of a heavy secret as quickly as possible and as another counselor said today "knowledge is power, especially in middle school" -- he wasn't referring to academics. When you know something about someone else that no one or not a lot of people know, you have power. So it follows that if you tell someone something about you that not a lot of people know, you give them power. Be careful who your power goes to.
And let me be clear that I'm not saying don't share yourself with people. I'm saying, as I said to my 6th graders, be CAREFUL who you share yourself with. Every piece of you is one more piece of power and not everyone can handle power; it's intoxicating.
8.10.2011
The Bottom
My BFF called me just over an hour ago to tell me about his life since I saw him last week when he was in town for a conference. The highlight: he was diagnosed with major depression.
There's the obvious reasons he called to tell me about his breakdown on Monday and subsequent diagnosis: I'm in mental health, a counselor-in-training (practically a counselor at this point). I care a lot about mental health in the black community. I'm his BFF, I love and care about him, etc... but the more he talked the more I realized there was probably a bigger and deeper reason for his sharing. He didn't want me to experience it too.
My BFF and I are BFFs because we're so much alike. He pinpointed his ability, from both natural origins and because of our shared undergraduate major, to read people emotionally as one of the major causes of his illness. The more he talked the more it made sense to me why lately I've just been so tired. Why I pull away when people reach out to me and just want to be friends and do friend things. It's weird because as I've posted before, I think I understood it, but his situation made it real for me.
I'm damn intuitive. Like freakishly so. I can tell if something is wrong with a person, regardless of how well I know them, right off the bat. And then I have this strange need to take that burden off them and handle it myself or make them feel better, and I'm very adept at making people feel better. I've come to despise this about myself, but it's a double-edged sword. It's why people, especially people in need, are drawn to me. Why I'm going to make a good counselor. Why I always find myself in the middle of craziness. One of my attributes, really one of my blessings, is also a curse.
But all of that work is tiring. It is HARD to deal with my own stuff and go through a whole day taking on everyone else's stuff. It's exhausting and so it makes sense that sometimes I just want to be by myself. Sometimes I don't want to answer the phone. Sometimes even a simple request to hang out is just too much as I immediately know, even though it's sub-consciously -- that it will require me to be "on" and being "on" is too much all the time.
I know many of my friends might be surprised to read this. I also know that many of them aren't and have tried to get me to slow down and take better care, but it's hard to change something that feels like a gift -- a calling, even. What I need is to control it, not stop it.
My BFF's call today reminded me that if I'm not absolutely careful, I'm going to end up in his shoes and much more sooner than I suspect.
However, I'm so proud of him for being open about his struggles and being willing to grab this tiger by tail -- but then again that's him. It's one more thing that makes him amazeballs and I don't doubt that like everything else he tackles, this'll be handled effectively and in what'll feel like no time.
There's the obvious reasons he called to tell me about his breakdown on Monday and subsequent diagnosis: I'm in mental health, a counselor-in-training (practically a counselor at this point). I care a lot about mental health in the black community. I'm his BFF, I love and care about him, etc... but the more he talked the more I realized there was probably a bigger and deeper reason for his sharing. He didn't want me to experience it too.
My BFF and I are BFFs because we're so much alike. He pinpointed his ability, from both natural origins and because of our shared undergraduate major, to read people emotionally as one of the major causes of his illness. The more he talked the more it made sense to me why lately I've just been so tired. Why I pull away when people reach out to me and just want to be friends and do friend things. It's weird because as I've posted before, I think I understood it, but his situation made it real for me.
I'm damn intuitive. Like freakishly so. I can tell if something is wrong with a person, regardless of how well I know them, right off the bat. And then I have this strange need to take that burden off them and handle it myself or make them feel better, and I'm very adept at making people feel better. I've come to despise this about myself, but it's a double-edged sword. It's why people, especially people in need, are drawn to me. Why I'm going to make a good counselor. Why I always find myself in the middle of craziness. One of my attributes, really one of my blessings, is also a curse.
But all of that work is tiring. It is HARD to deal with my own stuff and go through a whole day taking on everyone else's stuff. It's exhausting and so it makes sense that sometimes I just want to be by myself. Sometimes I don't want to answer the phone. Sometimes even a simple request to hang out is just too much as I immediately know, even though it's sub-consciously -- that it will require me to be "on" and being "on" is too much all the time.
I know many of my friends might be surprised to read this. I also know that many of them aren't and have tried to get me to slow down and take better care, but it's hard to change something that feels like a gift -- a calling, even. What I need is to control it, not stop it.
My BFF's call today reminded me that if I'm not absolutely careful, I'm going to end up in his shoes and much more sooner than I suspect.
However, I'm so proud of him for being open about his struggles and being willing to grab this tiger by tail -- but then again that's him. It's one more thing that makes him amazeballs and I don't doubt that like everything else he tackles, this'll be handled effectively and in what'll feel like no time.
5.17.2011
Owning Myself Pt 2
Read Pt 1 here
When I was a junior in high school, I was super involved and there were a litany of reasons for that. One spring afternoon -- the details of which escape me -- I found myself sitting outside of then-BFF's mom's office in the middle of the student center during the busiest time of the day, crying. I remember I felt like the weight of the world was on me, that I had no one on my side and that I desperately needed a hug. Through my tears I saw people walking past me staring. I was relatively popular -- people knew me, even if they didn't know me -- so the crying thing was an attention grabber.
I had previously been inside the office with my 2 best friends and when I didn't return after a few moments, they came looking for me. Though my head was down, I knew they were standing there and I waited on one of them to pat me on the back or hug me or even just ask me what was wrong. They didn't. They both went back inside the office with not a word. They treated me no better than people I didn't even know.
Eventually I got up and went to dry my eyes in a more private location. As I sat in the chapel composing myself, I subconsciously and consciously internalized that my emotions were too heavy for others to handle. That experience taught my 16 yr old fragile self 2 lessons. The most damaging one was: I didn't have a right to cry or be upset -- that it wasn't safe to do that; if I did, no one would save me, no one would care and I would be left alone.
That's a lot for a vulnerable 16 year old to ingest. I was already emotionally fragile and that was the straw. It was that moment that I became emotionless. It just wasn't safe, otherwise.
And in the ensuing years, that lesson has been reinforced for me. More than once I've been told by someone close to me that I had to be strong for those around me. When J killed himself, so many people supported my inability to express my deep sadness, fear and loss. They told me, in essence, that I was a better person because I didn't fall a part like I wanted to inside.
When I've tried -- because I think this person will get me, because I hope this new person will be the one with whom I have that relationship -- I've been shut down. "Calm down..." or "It's not that serious" or "If you cry, I'll cry..."
I've been made to feel like I'm of no use to anyone if I'm emotional and I've gotten very good at shutting it down. I don't feel. If I do accidentally feel, I shove it down. I can't be seen weak and vulnerable because my weak and vulnerable self is not a person anyone wants, cares about or can love.
Gosh -- does that not sound terrible? It feels terrible. The other lesson I learned that day was how terrible it feels and I vowed not to let anyone else feel that way. I'm really good at making people feel comfortable and I do it with ease. I'm the consummate friend -- I never need support and I give endless support. The only trapping is that I DO need support; I probably need it more than most.
I think all of my little beefs with some of my friends really go back to not feeling like we have genuinely intimate relationships; that they're getting a hell of a friend and I'm getting superficial bullshit; that I'm replaceable, not worth noticing and unimportant. In some ways this is their fault, but in a lot of ways, it has nothing to do with them and revolves around things I have to handle and deal with.
This is me owning that I have this wall and I have to get over it and I have to reframe the lesson I learned that day and the lesson that's been reinforced. Maybe I need to get rid of friends who can't support me emotionally -- who are, in essence, emotionally incompetent and unable to hold me up when I'm falling. I need to find people who not only can do that, but who do so with little fanfare and effort, who do so because they care. But whatever I do, it has to happen soon because I've been given yet another chance to have the support I've been wanting and needing and I really feel like if I don't jump on it this time, there won't be a next.
When I was a junior in high school, I was super involved and there were a litany of reasons for that. One spring afternoon -- the details of which escape me -- I found myself sitting outside of then-BFF's mom's office in the middle of the student center during the busiest time of the day, crying. I remember I felt like the weight of the world was on me, that I had no one on my side and that I desperately needed a hug. Through my tears I saw people walking past me staring. I was relatively popular -- people knew me, even if they didn't know me -- so the crying thing was an attention grabber.
I had previously been inside the office with my 2 best friends and when I didn't return after a few moments, they came looking for me. Though my head was down, I knew they were standing there and I waited on one of them to pat me on the back or hug me or even just ask me what was wrong. They didn't. They both went back inside the office with not a word. They treated me no better than people I didn't even know.
Eventually I got up and went to dry my eyes in a more private location. As I sat in the chapel composing myself, I subconsciously and consciously internalized that my emotions were too heavy for others to handle. That experience taught my 16 yr old fragile self 2 lessons. The most damaging one was: I didn't have a right to cry or be upset -- that it wasn't safe to do that; if I did, no one would save me, no one would care and I would be left alone.
That's a lot for a vulnerable 16 year old to ingest. I was already emotionally fragile and that was the straw. It was that moment that I became emotionless. It just wasn't safe, otherwise.
And in the ensuing years, that lesson has been reinforced for me. More than once I've been told by someone close to me that I had to be strong for those around me. When J killed himself, so many people supported my inability to express my deep sadness, fear and loss. They told me, in essence, that I was a better person because I didn't fall a part like I wanted to inside.
When I've tried -- because I think this person will get me, because I hope this new person will be the one with whom I have that relationship -- I've been shut down. "Calm down..." or "It's not that serious" or "If you cry, I'll cry..."
I've been made to feel like I'm of no use to anyone if I'm emotional and I've gotten very good at shutting it down. I don't feel. If I do accidentally feel, I shove it down. I can't be seen weak and vulnerable because my weak and vulnerable self is not a person anyone wants, cares about or can love.
Gosh -- does that not sound terrible? It feels terrible. The other lesson I learned that day was how terrible it feels and I vowed not to let anyone else feel that way. I'm really good at making people feel comfortable and I do it with ease. I'm the consummate friend -- I never need support and I give endless support. The only trapping is that I DO need support; I probably need it more than most.
I think all of my little beefs with some of my friends really go back to not feeling like we have genuinely intimate relationships; that they're getting a hell of a friend and I'm getting superficial bullshit; that I'm replaceable, not worth noticing and unimportant. In some ways this is their fault, but in a lot of ways, it has nothing to do with them and revolves around things I have to handle and deal with.
This is me owning that I have this wall and I have to get over it and I have to reframe the lesson I learned that day and the lesson that's been reinforced. Maybe I need to get rid of friends who can't support me emotionally -- who are, in essence, emotionally incompetent and unable to hold me up when I'm falling. I need to find people who not only can do that, but who do so with little fanfare and effort, who do so because they care. But whatever I do, it has to happen soon because I've been given yet another chance to have the support I've been wanting and needing and I really feel like if I don't jump on it this time, there won't be a next.
Owning Myself Pt 1
In every post I write, I want to show a deeper part of who I am so that you can understand me better. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose -- sometimes I realize I've shown way more of myself than I wanted to.
I also want to understand myself better and writing has always been cathartic. It's offered me an opportunity to become object to the things that I'm going through -- meaning, I do not act because of the things that are happening to me, but rather I am able to analyze and observe them objectively.
As part of a class I'm in, I'm in an experiential counseling group. It's a personal growth group and we're all supposed to come up with a personal growth goal. Mine is to find the wall of vulnerability. I have shared a lot with a lot of different people, but I know that vulnerability is tough for me. I just can't connect that with how it's possible that I feel like I'm an open book.
One thing that I talk about ad nauseum here are my friendships. This group is making me accept something I've known for a long time, but was scared to really admit: I need close relationships. Intimate ones. The kinds where I am who I am completely and you are who you are completely. I strive for those, I work my ass off to have them and yet I don't feel like I have them.
I feel like I have a whole bunch of people pretending to be close, using and abusing how good I am at making them feel comfortable without asking for a lot in return or being needy or helpless... but I don't have the one thing I need.
I also can't put all the blame on other people. There are people who want to have intimate relationships with me but there's a wall I've put up -- I can't be vulnerable for them. Vulnerability is one of the key ingredients to this and I want to figure out where that wall shows up and how I can knock it down because I know, I won't make it much longer not having anyone I consider an intimate friend.
Today, I verbalized things that I've thought about why I can't be vulnerable for people I think are my friends. Verbalizing them made them real and now I know that if I want to continue to share who I am, I have to put it here. I have to own what has happened to me, how I've allowed it to define who I am and what I do, if I want to move past it.
Read pt 2 here
I also want to understand myself better and writing has always been cathartic. It's offered me an opportunity to become object to the things that I'm going through -- meaning, I do not act because of the things that are happening to me, but rather I am able to analyze and observe them objectively.
As part of a class I'm in, I'm in an experiential counseling group. It's a personal growth group and we're all supposed to come up with a personal growth goal. Mine is to find the wall of vulnerability. I have shared a lot with a lot of different people, but I know that vulnerability is tough for me. I just can't connect that with how it's possible that I feel like I'm an open book.
One thing that I talk about ad nauseum here are my friendships. This group is making me accept something I've known for a long time, but was scared to really admit: I need close relationships. Intimate ones. The kinds where I am who I am completely and you are who you are completely. I strive for those, I work my ass off to have them and yet I don't feel like I have them.
I feel like I have a whole bunch of people pretending to be close, using and abusing how good I am at making them feel comfortable without asking for a lot in return or being needy or helpless... but I don't have the one thing I need.
I also can't put all the blame on other people. There are people who want to have intimate relationships with me but there's a wall I've put up -- I can't be vulnerable for them. Vulnerability is one of the key ingredients to this and I want to figure out where that wall shows up and how I can knock it down because I know, I won't make it much longer not having anyone I consider an intimate friend.
Today, I verbalized things that I've thought about why I can't be vulnerable for people I think are my friends. Verbalizing them made them real and now I know that if I want to continue to share who I am, I have to put it here. I have to own what has happened to me, how I've allowed it to define who I am and what I do, if I want to move past it.
Read pt 2 here
4.04.2011
In My Feelings
I don't suppose I've really talked very much about my feelings around J's suicide since it happened 7 months ago. Not here, anyway. I've had some really cerebral discussions around it with new people in my life who, one way or another, find out about it. Sitting at a table full of counselors, as I frequently find myself doing these days, will make you assess your feelings on the matter, as well. But on the whole, even then, I think I've been pretty good (too good probably) at having an abstract conversation about my feelings.
I mean the reality of it is this isn't my first rodeo. I dealt with suicide in high school. Not to suggest that makes it easier, but the last 7 yrs have been lesson after lesson on what it's like to be a survivor of suicide (just learned that I'm a 2-time survivor of suicide... interesting...). So dealing with the after effects of this is... well it's different for me this time and I feel like I almost have to deal with it cerebrally instead of all down in my feelings because... well... I did that once already.
I don't believe I'm making sense on that part, so let me get to why I'm thinking about all this.
The reality of counseling -- being in a counseling program, learning to counsel people, always thinking about best practices -- is preparation for the worst case scenario and for us, I think especially school counselors, suicide is the worst case scenario. Even moreso than child abuse, a student coming into your office and expressing that they are thinking of suicide as a way out is. absolutely. petrifying.
So it was quite the treat (ironic choice of words, probably) to have a professional counselor come talk to us about the nuts and bolts of what you do when someone expresses they have thought about and are seriously considering suicide. I mean what do you do after they say that? And this isn't my first time in this rodeo, either. I've had people come talk to us about suicide, what the warning signs are, who's at most risk, what the after effects can be, etc... this time was different though. I was really all down in my feelings. I tried and I tried and I tried to surface and take notes and be professional and think about this from any angle other than my own "what could I have done differently..." place that I go to sometimes.
Confession Station: Yes. Sometimes, despite my best efforts and the fact that I know better and I know otherwise, I ponder the consequences of not responding to J's random text apologizing, one last time, for all he put me through. Why couldn't I have just gotten over myself and called him, as I had a half a mind to do, and pick his brain on where that was coming from? Might that not have changed things?
Of course not. I know that, y'all know that, we know it together but it's still true, despite this I go there and Thursday afternoon I was there, brought my lunch and camped all the way out. A couple of times during the presentation I thought about stepping out of the room. Wasn't sure if I was about to cry or spaz or what. I've got all kinds of techniques to use around "not feeling" and none of them were working. It was the absolute oddest thing I've ever had happened.
I suppose I need to bring it up in my own counseling session on Tuesday, huh? Yeah. I should. This needs to be handled.
I mean the reality of it is this isn't my first rodeo. I dealt with suicide in high school. Not to suggest that makes it easier, but the last 7 yrs have been lesson after lesson on what it's like to be a survivor of suicide (just learned that I'm a 2-time survivor of suicide... interesting...). So dealing with the after effects of this is... well it's different for me this time and I feel like I almost have to deal with it cerebrally instead of all down in my feelings because... well... I did that once already.
I don't believe I'm making sense on that part, so let me get to why I'm thinking about all this.
The reality of counseling -- being in a counseling program, learning to counsel people, always thinking about best practices -- is preparation for the worst case scenario and for us, I think especially school counselors, suicide is the worst case scenario. Even moreso than child abuse, a student coming into your office and expressing that they are thinking of suicide as a way out is. absolutely. petrifying.
So it was quite the treat (ironic choice of words, probably) to have a professional counselor come talk to us about the nuts and bolts of what you do when someone expresses they have thought about and are seriously considering suicide. I mean what do you do after they say that? And this isn't my first time in this rodeo, either. I've had people come talk to us about suicide, what the warning signs are, who's at most risk, what the after effects can be, etc... this time was different though. I was really all down in my feelings. I tried and I tried and I tried to surface and take notes and be professional and think about this from any angle other than my own "what could I have done differently..." place that I go to sometimes.
Confession Station: Yes. Sometimes, despite my best efforts and the fact that I know better and I know otherwise, I ponder the consequences of not responding to J's random text apologizing, one last time, for all he put me through. Why couldn't I have just gotten over myself and called him, as I had a half a mind to do, and pick his brain on where that was coming from? Might that not have changed things?
Of course not. I know that, y'all know that, we know it together but it's still true, despite this I go there and Thursday afternoon I was there, brought my lunch and camped all the way out. A couple of times during the presentation I thought about stepping out of the room. Wasn't sure if I was about to cry or spaz or what. I've got all kinds of techniques to use around "not feeling" and none of them were working. It was the absolute oddest thing I've ever had happened.
I suppose I need to bring it up in my own counseling session on Tuesday, huh? Yeah. I should. This needs to be handled.
3.11.2011
Daddy Issues Revisited
Two years ago I did a post on Daddy Issues. I was prompted because of a separate post I'd read that had me really thinking about my own father. I remember writing it and feeling like I'd really done something and when I just re-read it in prep for writing this one, I just shook my head. I was ridiculously surface and I even lied a little bit. I mention and then reiterate that my father is a non-factor in my life, so much so that I don't even think about him.
As one of my good friends would say: "cricket, cricket." I don't think I was trying to lie; I think I just wasn't being honest with myself, really. Do I think about my father a lot? No. Do I think about him some? Maybe not directly. But his absence has been such a strong influence in my life that whether or not I'm thinking specifically and literally of him, I'm still often thinking of him.
In one of my most recent counseling sessions, I figured I'd jump in and attack the daddy issues I have. As we talked, the questions my counselor asked me had me reeling. I thought I had been pretty aware of just how far-reaching my daddy issues were but this conversation took me into ideas and places I had never considered. One of them was my hero complex. I've long told people my hero complex makes no sense as it's typically a character trait of an oldest child, or at least a child/person with siblings, but I'm an only child -- well, I was raised as an only child. Turns out, there's a really good chance that my internalization of myself as the reason my father wasn't around turned me into a fix-it person: wanting to save everyone from themselves since I can't seem to save myself from anything. Crazy, right? Ok. Maybe not. But to suddenly have this realization like I haven't been thinking about this on and off for no less than 10 years is really something.
But one thing I mentioned in my session was how I have difficulty separating out my issues, especially and specifically as they operate in relationships, from my daddy issues and my J issues. They interact very well with each other and exacerbate each other. My daddy issues caused me to stay in a relationship that was totally toxic for me and then when I finally did leave that relationship, I took along some more issues that seemed to work very very well with those already existing ones.
It's all playing so front and center for me right now. So much so that I touched on them a bit last night on a date (that I swear was not a date, but my friends have me thinking I'm too stupid to know what a date is, so...) My relationship issues aren't things I would normally touch on on a first date but we jumped right into the heavy stuff (because we have a prior relationship) and thanks to my counseling session making things so salient for me, this stuff just came tumbling out.
And then today I read 2 posts: Daddy Issues and I'll Be Your Pappy: The Silence of the Daddy Issues -- both older on blogs I don't frequent all that much -- dealing with daddy issues and the black community and I had to take a minute. What is it meaning for our community, plagued so heavily with absentee fathers, poor fathers, inept fathers, inadequate fathers, to not talk about it? The only people in my life who acknowledge to me that they only ever hear me talk about my mom are non-black, especially white folks. I've bonded with other black people about our lack of father, but there's no surprise in hearing someone only ever refer to their mothers. The issues are so prevalent, they've become expected in our community and we don't talk about them as the potentially debilitating issues they are.
Having both parents in your life is very important. I've even discussed how important I think it is to have strong and salient male and female influences in your life, regardless of the type of family you have. My classes have taught me a lot about human development and let me tell you: those early years are crucial. More crucial than any other time. Take this into consideration: the way we bond with our primary care giver can and does determine how we respond in relationships much later in our lives. In essence, your primary care giver should be consistent, loving, nurturing, firm and supportive. If you're a single parent your concern is a roof and food. Anyone who knows anything about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs knows this. But if you're the only one who can be concerned with these basic physiological needs -- the most primitive of needs -- you don't have a lot of time to be all those things I mentioned a baby needs to develop a healthy relationship style.
It's interesting to me that when they're kids, we talk about how important it is for boys to have daddies, but it's the women who take the most heat for having "daddy issues" as if men don't grow up and become unable to function appropriately in relationships themselves. In other words, we act like girls don't need fathers until they become women and it becomes painfully obvious how much that was wrong.
Unfortunately, no matter how well adjusted you are, it's hard to help someone else be well adjusted and honestly, I know from experience that their issues can easily either create or cause your own issues to surface. Though the research I've read says essentially that if you're able to have healthy relationships, you can help teach someone else how, I know that in practicality, you gotta be really invested to make that happen and the consequence of not being successful can be devastating. Not to mention that none of the research I've read indicates that you can help them have a healthy relationship with you.
I've got no answers on this one. Well, maybe a few, but that's not my point. I hope that moving forward, as we talk about relationship issues in the black community, we can start talking about them in different ways. One, in terms of the real and salient problems that absent fathers are causing. Maybe not in terms of putting fathers back in homes (though that needs to be a real goal) but how to empower those of us who see ourselves suffering now that it's a little too late to fix it. And also talk about how we make our relationships in the black community better from both sides. Whoever writes a book on how to have a better relationship that's either directed at both sexes or hits those daddy issues head on and acknowledges the real role they play will get all my support. It's really not as simple as thinking like a man, acting like a lady or being from another planet or whatever the hell else one trick dog and pony show we try to pass off as legitimate.
As one of my good friends would say: "cricket, cricket." I don't think I was trying to lie; I think I just wasn't being honest with myself, really. Do I think about my father a lot? No. Do I think about him some? Maybe not directly. But his absence has been such a strong influence in my life that whether or not I'm thinking specifically and literally of him, I'm still often thinking of him.
In one of my most recent counseling sessions, I figured I'd jump in and attack the daddy issues I have. As we talked, the questions my counselor asked me had me reeling. I thought I had been pretty aware of just how far-reaching my daddy issues were but this conversation took me into ideas and places I had never considered. One of them was my hero complex. I've long told people my hero complex makes no sense as it's typically a character trait of an oldest child, or at least a child/person with siblings, but I'm an only child -- well, I was raised as an only child. Turns out, there's a really good chance that my internalization of myself as the reason my father wasn't around turned me into a fix-it person: wanting to save everyone from themselves since I can't seem to save myself from anything. Crazy, right? Ok. Maybe not. But to suddenly have this realization like I haven't been thinking about this on and off for no less than 10 years is really something.
But one thing I mentioned in my session was how I have difficulty separating out my issues, especially and specifically as they operate in relationships, from my daddy issues and my J issues. They interact very well with each other and exacerbate each other. My daddy issues caused me to stay in a relationship that was totally toxic for me and then when I finally did leave that relationship, I took along some more issues that seemed to work very very well with those already existing ones.
It's all playing so front and center for me right now. So much so that I touched on them a bit last night on a date (that I swear was not a date, but my friends have me thinking I'm too stupid to know what a date is, so...) My relationship issues aren't things I would normally touch on on a first date but we jumped right into the heavy stuff (because we have a prior relationship) and thanks to my counseling session making things so salient for me, this stuff just came tumbling out.
And then today I read 2 posts: Daddy Issues and I'll Be Your Pappy: The Silence of the Daddy Issues -- both older on blogs I don't frequent all that much -- dealing with daddy issues and the black community and I had to take a minute. What is it meaning for our community, plagued so heavily with absentee fathers, poor fathers, inept fathers, inadequate fathers, to not talk about it? The only people in my life who acknowledge to me that they only ever hear me talk about my mom are non-black, especially white folks. I've bonded with other black people about our lack of father, but there's no surprise in hearing someone only ever refer to their mothers. The issues are so prevalent, they've become expected in our community and we don't talk about them as the potentially debilitating issues they are.
Having both parents in your life is very important. I've even discussed how important I think it is to have strong and salient male and female influences in your life, regardless of the type of family you have. My classes have taught me a lot about human development and let me tell you: those early years are crucial. More crucial than any other time. Take this into consideration: the way we bond with our primary care giver can and does determine how we respond in relationships much later in our lives. In essence, your primary care giver should be consistent, loving, nurturing, firm and supportive. If you're a single parent your concern is a roof and food. Anyone who knows anything about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs knows this. But if you're the only one who can be concerned with these basic physiological needs -- the most primitive of needs -- you don't have a lot of time to be all those things I mentioned a baby needs to develop a healthy relationship style.
It's interesting to me that when they're kids, we talk about how important it is for boys to have daddies, but it's the women who take the most heat for having "daddy issues" as if men don't grow up and become unable to function appropriately in relationships themselves. In other words, we act like girls don't need fathers until they become women and it becomes painfully obvious how much that was wrong.
Unfortunately, no matter how well adjusted you are, it's hard to help someone else be well adjusted and honestly, I know from experience that their issues can easily either create or cause your own issues to surface. Though the research I've read says essentially that if you're able to have healthy relationships, you can help teach someone else how, I know that in practicality, you gotta be really invested to make that happen and the consequence of not being successful can be devastating. Not to mention that none of the research I've read indicates that you can help them have a healthy relationship with you.
I've got no answers on this one. Well, maybe a few, but that's not my point. I hope that moving forward, as we talk about relationship issues in the black community, we can start talking about them in different ways. One, in terms of the real and salient problems that absent fathers are causing. Maybe not in terms of putting fathers back in homes (though that needs to be a real goal) but how to empower those of us who see ourselves suffering now that it's a little too late to fix it. And also talk about how we make our relationships in the black community better from both sides. Whoever writes a book on how to have a better relationship that's either directed at both sexes or hits those daddy issues head on and acknowledges the real role they play will get all my support. It's really not as simple as thinking like a man, acting like a lady or being from another planet or whatever the hell else one trick dog and pony show we try to pass off as legitimate.
1.17.2011
Confidentiality
When I was younger my friends and I would pinky swear not to tell secrets. As I got older, the pinky swear became a circle of trust and these days, my friends and I put things in the trust tree. All of these things are euphemisms for confidentiality. We tell our friends secrets, but some secrets need the added security of confidentiality.
In counseling, confidentiality is the most important part of the counselor/client relationship. Without the promise of "no telling" (except for in instances of potential of harm to self or others) the relationship cannot be helpful. In some ways, I think the same can be said of close relationships -- of the friend or intimate kind.
I've recently been made privy to a breach of confidentiality in several different situations. In a few, the breaches could have serious consequences for those who's secrets have been revealed and for those who have done the revealing. But in all the situations, no matter the individual outcomes, there are heavy consequences for the relationships.
Over the years, I've struggled with how readily people share their secrets with me. For one, the things I know about people are just... let's just say that there's more than a handful of people out there who should make it their business to never piss me off :). But for two, it's a heavy burden carrying people's secrets. In fact, what I've actually learned about secrets is that people share them because of their weight. Tonight, I spoke with 2 friends about the misuse and abuse of the "trust tree." I told them that people will use the trust tree to reveal things they shouldn't be revealing because the weight of those things have become to heavy for them and they want to dump the load off on someone else.
Once, a friend tried to explain to me what it is about me that makes sharing so easy and she couldn't quite articulate it, but she did tell me, "whatever it is, it's a God-given gift that you don't even control, so use it right." I've really taken those words to heart. Confidentiality is of the utmost importance, but that has meant I've had to learn other ways to deal with the burdens I feel because of the weight of the secrets.
Maybe the one thing that sticks with me as I work on my confidentiality skills (which, as I'm trying to point out, is larger than not telling people's secrets) is what it's been like to have my own secrets exposed. The sum experience is that I now don't really tell things about myself to anyone that I wouldn't mind getting out to everyone. On one hand, that's made me less self-conscious about some things, but super self-conscious about others and maybe the things that I don't talk about are the things I really need to be talking about. When I think about these situations in my own life the hurt and embarrassment hasn't always been in what was told, but the way it felt to know that I had shared something with someone in assumed (or explicit) confidence and that person disregarded my feelings to score a point or be funny or maybe even just to embarrass me.
Perhaps the most educational experiences have been when I knew my secret was told in an effort to help me. Knowing that there are conversations happening about me without my input and clarification can be stressful. I take from that feeling that when I feel like a secret needs to be told to someone else to help the individual, that individual needs to be told too. Thinking that in order to share I secret I must tell the secret's owner keeps me honest about why I want to talk about it. What I usually find out is that a simple conversation with the person alleviates a lot of concerns for me. It releases whatever burden I'm feeling.
All this comes up for me, right now, because I'm trying to figure out how to address a group of people who have become close friends about all of our misuses of understood confidentiality with each other. Coming this close to feeling like I have people who I can really share myself with and not worry about the consequences makes me eager to do my part to be sure I do have that and for as long as possible.
It's also making me be even more serious about being confidential.
In counseling, confidentiality is the most important part of the counselor/client relationship. Without the promise of "no telling" (except for in instances of potential of harm to self or others) the relationship cannot be helpful. In some ways, I think the same can be said of close relationships -- of the friend or intimate kind.
I've recently been made privy to a breach of confidentiality in several different situations. In a few, the breaches could have serious consequences for those who's secrets have been revealed and for those who have done the revealing. But in all the situations, no matter the individual outcomes, there are heavy consequences for the relationships.
Over the years, I've struggled with how readily people share their secrets with me. For one, the things I know about people are just... let's just say that there's more than a handful of people out there who should make it their business to never piss me off :). But for two, it's a heavy burden carrying people's secrets. In fact, what I've actually learned about secrets is that people share them because of their weight. Tonight, I spoke with 2 friends about the misuse and abuse of the "trust tree." I told them that people will use the trust tree to reveal things they shouldn't be revealing because the weight of those things have become to heavy for them and they want to dump the load off on someone else.
Once, a friend tried to explain to me what it is about me that makes sharing so easy and she couldn't quite articulate it, but she did tell me, "whatever it is, it's a God-given gift that you don't even control, so use it right." I've really taken those words to heart. Confidentiality is of the utmost importance, but that has meant I've had to learn other ways to deal with the burdens I feel because of the weight of the secrets.
Maybe the one thing that sticks with me as I work on my confidentiality skills (which, as I'm trying to point out, is larger than not telling people's secrets) is what it's been like to have my own secrets exposed. The sum experience is that I now don't really tell things about myself to anyone that I wouldn't mind getting out to everyone. On one hand, that's made me less self-conscious about some things, but super self-conscious about others and maybe the things that I don't talk about are the things I really need to be talking about. When I think about these situations in my own life the hurt and embarrassment hasn't always been in what was told, but the way it felt to know that I had shared something with someone in assumed (or explicit) confidence and that person disregarded my feelings to score a point or be funny or maybe even just to embarrass me.
Perhaps the most educational experiences have been when I knew my secret was told in an effort to help me. Knowing that there are conversations happening about me without my input and clarification can be stressful. I take from that feeling that when I feel like a secret needs to be told to someone else to help the individual, that individual needs to be told too. Thinking that in order to share I secret I must tell the secret's owner keeps me honest about why I want to talk about it. What I usually find out is that a simple conversation with the person alleviates a lot of concerns for me. It releases whatever burden I'm feeling.
All this comes up for me, right now, because I'm trying to figure out how to address a group of people who have become close friends about all of our misuses of understood confidentiality with each other. Coming this close to feeling like I have people who I can really share myself with and not worry about the consequences makes me eager to do my part to be sure I do have that and for as long as possible.
It's also making me be even more serious about being confidential.
12.12.2010
One Last Moment
Wow... took me forever to get to this last day. I think I did pretty good up until now.
During the last post where I shared "a moment" I talked about how I sometimes feel on the "outside" of things. As if I'm window shopping through life.
One upside to feeling that way, though, is that even when I'm in a situation that's not all the way right -- not all the way a good fit -- I can usually power through it and get to the other side because that feeling isn't all that different from what I frequently feel.
The other upside is that I also am SO aware when I don't feel that way. When I feel like I'm right where I'm supposed to be doing what I'm supposed to be doing with the person/people I'm supposed to be doing it with.
Recently I was sitting in my class on Developmental Theory and my professor was talking about a particular theory that really resonated with me. It made total sense and really was something that I'd long thought to be true about the way humans grow and develop. In the same week, I was in my pre-practicum class and something we were learning again deeply resonated with me and I thought, "I am exactly where I'm supposed to be..."
In these last few weeks, it's been confirmed for me that I'm doing this with the people I'm supposed to be doing it with, as well. I really am beginning to truly love and cherish my cohort and I imagine that I'm making some lifelong friends right now.
Anyway, the moment that I realized I am supposed to be a counselor, this is making the best use of my strengths and abilities and I'm even doing it in the right place was a special moment for me. As I'm sitting here typing this to take a break from studying for what will undoubtedly be the most stressful exam I've ever taken, it's reassuring to think that at least I'm on the right path.
During the last post where I shared "a moment" I talked about how I sometimes feel on the "outside" of things. As if I'm window shopping through life.
One upside to feeling that way, though, is that even when I'm in a situation that's not all the way right -- not all the way a good fit -- I can usually power through it and get to the other side because that feeling isn't all that different from what I frequently feel.
The other upside is that I also am SO aware when I don't feel that way. When I feel like I'm right where I'm supposed to be doing what I'm supposed to be doing with the person/people I'm supposed to be doing it with.
Recently I was sitting in my class on Developmental Theory and my professor was talking about a particular theory that really resonated with me. It made total sense and really was something that I'd long thought to be true about the way humans grow and develop. In the same week, I was in my pre-practicum class and something we were learning again deeply resonated with me and I thought, "I am exactly where I'm supposed to be..."
In these last few weeks, it's been confirmed for me that I'm doing this with the people I'm supposed to be doing it with, as well. I really am beginning to truly love and cherish my cohort and I imagine that I'm making some lifelong friends right now.
Anyway, the moment that I realized I am supposed to be a counselor, this is making the best use of my strengths and abilities and I'm even doing it in the right place was a special moment for me. As I'm sitting here typing this to take a break from studying for what will undoubtedly be the most stressful exam I've ever taken, it's reassuring to think that at least I'm on the right path.
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