How Can?

How can someone who is a therapist/counsellor still explore the possibility of being a performer? Okay okay, and not like an opera singer or anything that wouldn't involve a ton of ethical problems... but something more like a standup comedian?

Discuss. I need your pointers.

I think I want to actually give it a try, but I don't want it to bite me on the ass.

The Clinical Hour Seems To Be Getting Shorter

That was the joke I made today at my own therapist's office when I arrived with only ten minutes left in our session. There is a mild snowstorm where I live that seems to have incapacitated most of the transit. Nevertheless, I arrived with homemade cookies to share. I have always wanted to be able to sit down with my therapist and just "chat" with him about whatnot. Of course, it didn't happen, but he seemed to apprecite the cookies.



Cramming your last therapy session before the two week holiday break into ten minutes is a trifle disappointing, so say the least. Perhaps a new theoretical school will emerge? "Speed Ego," "Rapid Transference," and "Quickbitch Session" are all terms that come to mind.



I've been told by many practising therapists/psychologists/psychiatrists/analysists that they learned more from their own therapy than they did from their university education or from any professional school they attended. Hmm... being at the beginning of my graduate career and on strike at that, I can only guess if this will hold true for me as well. I suspect that it will. It is the same kind of long-term, experiential learning that one gets in an acrobatics class. Learning by emotional doing. We can talk about a cartwheel all day, but you can't actually DO one until, well, you DO one.

I guess it is the very basics of genuinely needing to have an idea of what this process is like for the client/patient. The whole process is about coming to an empathic understanding of what their experience is like for them. How can you do that without having an idea of what it is like to be in therapy for yourself? It truly amazing me when I meet people in this field who think that therapy is "not for them." What does that say to the client?

Okay, no more coherent thought today. Back to blurk.

It's Today And Still No End In Sight

I admit that I've not been writing so much because I've been under the assumption that all of my posts must be high calibre writing to impress. But a good friend of mine kindly got some sense into me and I've dropped that ridiculous notion. Write because you enjoy writing. Blog because you want your friends to know what you're up to. Ignore jerks who criticize you and don't have the deceny to even tell you who they are.

Well done and well spoken. I hereby cast of the shackles of my oppressor!

Here's my news.

There is no end in sight for this strike. If things are not resolved by tomorrow, then we will not be going back to class until at least the new year. So more forced vacation. But it's okay. I'm relaxing in to it. I've also heard back from C*** that they are going to make good on my strike pay... so huzzah! I need to plug it into the debt hole, of course, but huzzah nonetheless.

I'm trying to work a bit more during the strike at the old org. Sigh... it's okay because I'm not full time here and have a very relaxed attitude towards everything. But I still don't LOVE it. I guess I need more absence to make my heart grow fonder. But I could use the money, so we'll see what happens. Oh, and for those of you who know me well, I'll be on that TV show I used to be on a lot this Monday from about 3:30 - 6:30 again. Talking about holiday stress with the youngin's! That's something I am looking forward too. Oh, and I'm picking up a new rolling pin from a freecycler right afterwards. What a time to be alive!

I guess I don't have a ton to do, but I still feel busy. I finally have a research project doing an environmental scan for a networks centre of excellence, and I'm prepping a manuscript for publication. Also super exciting. Since it's mostly my work. If I got published at this early stage of my career I would just be over the moon. I'm not holding my breath, but I am hopeful.

Other than that, I suppose I should actually do my assignments that would be due if the strike gets called off. And just get ready for holiday insanity. My sweetheart and I are going to barricade ourselves in with a bunch of MST3Ks and food and enjoy.

Despite not having anything to do, I'm really looking forward to having someone to do all that nothing with. I've been very lonely since school started, and moreso since the strike came on. And yet, I find myself so busy all the time. So here's to a season of creature comforts and delightful creatures to enjoy them with.

Psyche.

Step Right Up, Win A C*** Doll!

It's been a while, again and obviously. This is largely due to the large-scale disruption at my university. Classes have all but stopped, and there is much, MUCH confusion. For my part, it has to do with the union and the ongoing question of my membership.

When we were instructed to vote on the strike mandate, I dutifully went to the polling booth. I was not on the list, but assured by a union rep that my grad student ID was valid, given a ballot, and cast my vote. Weeks later, at a general membership meeting, I was still not on the voting list. A union rep examined my ID and my paystub and assured me that I was a union member. Again I was allowed into a meeting and voted.

I picketed. Not only that, but I stepped up as the picket captain for my department (yeah, the only volunteer and I'd only been there for two months at the time). I did strike duties for 3+ weeks. My stike pay never came... I called to inquire...

Apparently, I'm not a member.

Now, understand, when there was originally the problem with my name not being on the list, the union told me that the only way they know if I'm a member or not is if the administration tells them so. I talk to the admin... oh, yeah, you're a member.

I call payroll yesterday, I'm not a member.

I call the union today, I am not a member.

I get an email from the union today, I am not a member.

Member or not... I'm inconvienienced greatly... very frustrated... and upset that I may have been walking around with a picket sign and getting up for a 7am shift or earlier.

Welcome to grad school, Psyche.

Sigh... I will accept your pity now. Especially if it comes in the form of taking me out for a coffee etc...

Psyche.

Nothing Witty Or Special. Just An Update

Things have been a bit stressful lately. My dad announced a return of his cancer, I'm on strike at university, I still have to keep up with coursework as well as take on strike duties. Currently, I'm quite sick with a sore throat and feverish... We just finished the charity's fundraiser. I'm exhausted and filled with anxiety - about my immeidate future, my finances, and physical safety on the strike line.



And I've really been having to sit with my ambivelence about this strike, about particpating in a strike that has the potential to be violent, and just the whole idea of challenging the self.



On my very first day out there as a picket captain, I witnesses someone drive through the line, almost hitting some people, others get out of cars and scream and swear at picketers, and someone get out of his car and cock his fist at a lady on the line. If it hadn't been for the quick phone cameraing of some witnesses, things could have escalated pretty quickly to physical violence. I hear tales on the listserves everyday of this escalation. Someone has already been hit by a car, many have been on the receiving end of verbal threats of violence. Yesterday someone threatened to bring a gun the next time they were held up by a picket line.



I'm astonished and horrified.



I guess I don't understand how someone can get upset enough as to threaten, or engage in, physical violence with another human being. How does a person get this entitled? How do they equate being held up for 20-40 mins by people exercising their civil liberties with a reason to punch? This is especially difficult for me who believes that there just aren't that many reasons other than self-defense to punch EVER. How does a slight (or even major) inconvienience get a person so quickly to the point of hurting someone else?



I guess I've been sitting (in fear) with this for the past week or so. Naturally, I start thinking about the inability to empathize, a narcissistic belief that one is more important than everyone else or "special" in some way. And in the particular neighbourhood of my school, there is a reputation/history of this kind of behaviour.

There is also a general feeling of what I will call "outrageous entitlement." Please see:
http://www.nationalpost.com/todays_paper/story.html?id=948718 The Post isn't my fav paper but I thought the numbers quoted in this article were interesting and speak to a larger phenom of students expecting the world to give them something for nothing and not knowing how 1. to be good citizens and 2. be able to see beyond how any situation affects them and them only.

I guess what I'm saying is that it worries and alarms me that our society is growing young people so individually focused. It's quite the counterpoint to hearing Barack Obama talk about helping each other. And it just makes me sad. And afraid.

So, in eloquently, that's where I'm at.

Antisocial traits are notoriously difficult to therapize out of someone. In order for their to be any sort of positive movement, society has to act as the conscience for people who aren't able to engage empathically. Actual consequences that are meaningful to the antisocial have to be implemented. Huh... don't expect that considering the police "support" I've witnessed on the lines either. It took the police just under an hour to respond to the woman who was hit by the car. In a major metropolitan city... it took just under an HOUR. Way to remain neutral, huh?

When it comes down to it, I'm sick... so I'm off this week. But I worry, as the evenings get darker sooner and this thing runs on longer, for the safety of people out there. And for the possible trauma this will induce. I don't like seeing violence triumph, but I can't put myself in a place where I'm going to have to engage in it. I don't know what the answer is right now.

Psyche.

Solidarity Forever... solidarity... for.. e... ve..rr...

So, I'm sitting in the GMM that is going to determine if I have to go on strike at University. I'm already the ONLY psychology grad student who is even at this meeting, and the only student who signed up to be a picket captain.

Oy.

As the only psych student here, I'm agog at the mob mentality going on here. Although I shouldn't be surprised. While I'm not afraid of striking... I know I can de-escalate with picketline crosses with the best of them, I'm more concerned about strikers getting all fanatical on the line and causing trouble. THAT I'm not so keen on.

I can't believe that people in this room who are polisci students, who are supposed to understand about non-oppression, are being so boisterous and trying to call the vote without letting us hear th presentations on the vote proposistions. I mean, there are ESL people here - we need to HEAR and UNDERSTAND before we jump in.

We need to slow down. We need to breathe... calmly discuss these issues. Not just start mindlessly applauding everything.

Binding arbitration?
Union says no way. Why? Because our CA is already so good, arbitration according to sector standards would bring us back. Okay, so maybe we're being a *bit* greedy? I don't know. I understand we are a leading local, but...

I'm torn.

My CNS is telling me it doesn't want to be here. I've got the fight or flight response huge (along with a knotted colon and a stomach full of vomiting butterflies...)

I'm also just so frustrated with how poorly communication happens (if it happens) in this local. I'm definitely going to need the little white pills (HA) if this happens. And the mood on the floor tells me it's strike time.

Anyone who wants to join me on the line, or bring me a coffee, or a puppy to play with, is most welcome.

Pray it doesn't last long.

Psyche

Le Sigh...

I approve of making things into learning opportunities, even if those things unsolicted and rudely worded comments from strangers. I don't profess to know everything... and sometimes I even make glaring errors. Fancy that! I'm a human being! Whenever someone acts that way towards me, I try to seperate out the crude bullying aspects from whatever message I might be able to take away from the encounter.

My takeaway message: double check your facts, even if the prof said them. The prof might be wrong, I might have misheard or misinterpretted. Especially with Bowie on the mind, right? Good message. And I'm never above being corrected or learning something from someone who has more knowledge, wisdom or experience than me.

But I don't think that anyone deserves to be verbally abused or bullied. Ever. I might not know all there is to know about brain imaging. I might not ever know! But I sure do know a heck of a lot about bullying, abuse, misuse of power in relationships, language in relationships and general power dynamics (on and off the web). So, dear reader, I hope you will indulge me while I wax on a bit about the topic, which I learned about from one of the world's leading researchers in this field.

There are a few interesting things going on when someone attempts to take the piss out of you on the Internet. This is a way of acting out aggression that most likely (but not always) can't be safely expressed within the aggressor's day to day life. Typically, this is an individual that feels a lack of power or control in their own life and attempts to make themselves feel better by attempting to take power or control in someone else's life. Usually the person who is victimized has less social power (for example, they are new to blogger, have less knowledge about the topic being discussed, are more of a newbie on the Internet in general). The person who bullies gets momentary satisfaction from making someone else feel bad (or at least imagining that the other person feels bad - on the web it's an assumption because one doesn't see the immediate reaction). But the problem is that bullying another person does not address the root cause of the person who bullies self-esteem problems, and so, the person who bullies must continue to seek this reinforcement over and over again. And so there is a cycle where they seek validation that they are smart, or powerful, or capable of control over SOMETHING. It is the cycle of abuse and it continues (usually) until there is an intervention of sorts.

The other interesting thing happens when a person choses to make their comments anonymously. That's a very interesting and ultimately weak way of asserting perceived control. It's very safe... the aggressor remains unknown and protected from any personal investment. By not revealing anything about their own humanity, it is easier for them to treat the person they victimize as a non-human. What's more, when using the Internet to bully, the person who bullies does not have to see any of the human reaction on the receiving end. They miss any chance to develop the empathy necessary for social interaction. They commit the aggression and don't have to deal with any consequences.

Consider if you will, the kid on the playground who (for whatever reason) punches another kid. They see them cry, get hurt, other people around get angry. There are social consequences and the kid who did the punching gets to see first hand what the kid who got punched is going through. Hopefully certain mirror neurons fire, and the kid who punched gets to imagine deeply what it is like to be punched. Social learning... social consequences... social interaction. This is the same with social bullying... when the person aggressing can actually recognize what the consequences of their behaviour is on another person, imagine what it is like to be treated that way themselves, realize they don't want to be treated that way... well, then barring developmental difficulties, the kid learns to play nice and handle disagreements in a more pro-social way.

Internet bullying. Sigh... a huge problem among children and teens. I guess I'm surprised to see it coming from someone who is (in my opinion) cool enough to know so much about and be so passionately interested in medical science. Someone, who I imagine, I would probably really like to talk to and learn from. I mean, wow! What an incredible resource.

But, alas, I don't even know who the person is, their age, or even what country they live in. They haven't even provided me with a way to contact them privately. That leaves me with little choice other than to ignore them completely, or to write this post publicly. And since I believe in creating opportunities for learning, I chose the public venue.

So, I want to be clear. I will not tolerate rude language or flames on my blog. That includes swearing at me, calling me names, or making unkind inferences about my level of inteligence. Of course I will delete any comments like that.

But I also want to be clear about this. Whoever you are. I'm not a threat. I'm not a mean person. You don't have any need to take out whatever is bothering you on me. If I get some facts wrong, even horribly wrong on my innocent little blog, it doesn't actually harm you in any way. And you have a choice about how you can react. You can chose to use your power, knowledge, expertise and wisdom for good. You can share politely and even make a friend. Who knows, play your cards right and I could end up being a huge fan of whoever you are. Or you can react in a way that makes it very difficult for me to feel positively about you and what you represent (really cool science stuff). If you've got power, you've got responsibility for how you use it in the world. You can make the world (and my blog) a better place, or you can leave it alone. Those are your choices.

I really hope you make the nice one, because honestly, you sound like a pretty cool person.

Take care.

Measured In Bowies.. I Mean Teslas

"The tesla (symbol T) is the SI derived unit of magnetic field B (which is also known as "magnetic flux density" and "magnetic induction"). The tesla is equal to one weber per square meter and was defined in 1960[1] in honor of inventor, scientist and electrical engineer Nikola Tesla."

And it's the unit of measurement of strength of an MRI and fMRI. (Although someone recently told me that I have this wrong... apparently there are two different kinds of tesla measurements, and I need to do a bit more research on this. But since I'm not going to be a medical doctor... and this is more out of a general interest for me, I'll leave it at that for now...)

Magnetoencephalography is an imaging technique used to measure the magnetic fields in the brain. And it is really, bloody cool. Imagine wearing a giant helmet full of something called "SQUIDs" (superconducting quantum interference devices), which are basically super-sensitive devices that are sensitive to picking up magnetic fields and someone cancelling out the earth's magnetic pull. The helmet never actually touches your head but kind of hovers between 6 and 12 inches away.

Okay, I totally cop to the fact that as my prof was explaining this stuff to my class, I was imagining I was Magneto. That I was Ian McKellen playing Magneto. And of course, it got me thinking to how we associate famous figures from history and science with the celebrity that played them in somesuch. Someone mentioned teslas, and next thing I knew, I was hippocampus deep in the Thin White Duke. A happy place to be, by all accounts.

It's no secret that nerds and geeks of all walks have long since held up Nikolai Tesla as the epitome of awesomeness. He was a synesthyte!!! He was working on a death ray, people. And honest to god mf DEATH RAY... I don't approve of necessarily using death rays, but I mean COME ON!!! That is mf cool!!! So who else could play this man (in The Prestige - a fair to middlin' movie) stepping into camera shot out of an electrical storm but David Bowie? No one, that's who... When that giant glass eye looked "at" me from the giant screen, I belived he could see my voice as it said "cool as f*ck."

So, my brain is totally in it's happy place when my prof mentions that most MEGs are calibrated(?) to 1.5 teslas, and that there is some controversy about whether or not it is safe for children to be in an MEG of 2 or 3 teslas (the higher the teslas, the sharper the image... not so important for clinicians, but of much use to researchers - I mean think about it... if you can get a kid with ADHD and autism to sit still for 45 minutes, you want a crystal clear image of that brain...) And apparently back in the early 40s, they discovered that leaving someone in an MEG too long (say 4 hours) results in 3rd degree burns. These burns are internal, because essentially, an MEG is like microwaving yourself a bit. It shakes up all the H++ in your oxegen molecules and affects their polarity. Do it for too long and those bonds start to break, creating heat inside the body. Apparently, an hour or two at 1.5 teslas is safe... but we're not quite sure what would happen if we cranked up that sucker to say 3 or 4 Ts (yes, it's lowercase when you spell it out, but uppercase when you use the short form because it's someone's name) and put their poodle in it to dry it out after a rainstorm.

Which confirms scientifically, in the silly little part of my mighty brain, that Ziggy Stardust is smolderingly hot. As if we needed further proof.

Packed in Like Animals

I had the particularly sweet experience the other day of taking transit back and forth TWICE to my school. Now, most people would agree with me that under normal circumstances, that would be a bitter experience akin to having a mouthful of lemon rinds and razorblades. But, it was Rosh Hashanah, and classes were cancelled, so the buses were like little moblie ghost towns. I had not only no waiting time, but also my choice of seats. I don't think I've sat on a bus on the way to or from school yet this year. But I got to park my posterior on all four trips!



In was on these relaxing, room-to-breathe trips that I was able to give some thought to how commuting affects us in a multicultural city.



We've long known from animal studies that a lack of space decreases an animal's ability to socialize in a positive way. Doesn't matter if they are mice, rats, cats, dogs, tarantulas, or monkeys. If you stick too many animals in the same habitat, they get on each other's nerves, become more territorial than they were previously, fight more, and attack each other under circumstances which would not be considered provoking if they had more personal space. Okay, you see what I'm saying? Pack in animals too tight and they will tear each other to shreds.



As I basked in my abundant personal space, I got to thinking about the state of affairs on this bus route during rush hours. I have counted over 70 people on a bus, after having waited for 4 or 5 buses to go by before I could cram myself on one. Because the bus is an express route to the school, most people have a backpack, large purse, or one of those little laptop wheely-suitcases. That's a lot of luggage. Most people don't figure out how to handle their luggage in a crowded space, meaning that it's par for the course to get smacked in the face with a backpack someone refuses to take off, or squared by a wildly gesturing waterbottle. People have their mp3 players turned up to 11. First year arts students are having loud, pretentious discussions about how they just discovered Sartre. Graduate students arle having loud, pretentious discussions about how they hate Sartre. Someone is chewing their gum with their mouth open and EVERYONE is taking on the cellphones.



People become pretty freakin territorial over their allotted space. You see all kinds of weird territorial, animalistic things going on in that bus. The driver stops short. Someone uses the momentum to give someone else a little shove. Elbows get jammed, dirty looks get shot, invectives get muttered...



I haven't actually SEEN any punchings. But I've certainly been witness to more than a few altercations and a wide smattering of racial epiteths.



It's curious. I wonder if being crammed in too tight makes us more racist? Or at least more likely to engage is racist thinking or speech? Why is it that when we perceive a slight (because hey, this is YOUR bus, and that's YOUR seat - you OWN it and that insert-racial-slur-here ought to know that) we start picking apart everything that is different between that person and ourselves? I mean, why do we have to qualify what kind of asshole they are? Why can't they just be a generic asshole for not waiting in an orderly line the way we were taught to in our good and decent community where we were brought up? And keep in mind, that community of origin thing seems to hold regardless of what communit it is or how divergent it is from what is expected due to one's skin colour, clothes, or gender.

Or maybe I should be pleased and proud of my academic bretheren for keeping themselves together as well as they have been? The fact that I've been commuting to this school for 6 years already and have never seen anything come to blows might speak well for our difference from the animals. We might bear our teeth, but I've never seen blood. But still, I'm left wondering... where does all this extra tension go since we're not discharging it on the bus? Since we're all just sort of teetering under this passive-aggressive or completely repressed aggression? Humans are animals too, and it's pretty natural that we want to lash out when someone hurts us, perceived slight or real.

Which brings me to my final point. I may not have seen too many overt confrontations. But I've seen a lot of evidence of anxiety and panic attacks on these buses. Oh, and grumpy drivers, I've seen that too. Could it be that unlike some caged animals, we are internalizing our aggression and it's bubbling to the surface as a sort of polite, almost Victorian fainting spell? Do we have our figurative corsets on too tight? Would it do some of us some good to tell someone else off?

Sigh... I could go on forever about this.

So what do I want from you, dear reader? How about you dare to be honest with me? I promise not to give you away. Have you found yourself uttering (in your mind or out loud) an inappropriate comment based on race, ethnicity, gender, age or priveledge when in a too-crowded space? How did you justify it at the time? Did you feel guilty about it afterwards? And are you afraid, like me, that once you get old and senile, that you'll start saying this stuff out loud and the workers in the nursing home will start giving you the smackdown?

And were they right on Avenue Q? Is everyone a little bit racist? And should we all try to acknowledge and deal with it more openly?

Practical Phrenology As Psychological Counselling In The 19th Century

"Practical" phrenology? What was there a clinical vs. applied phrenological war going on? Heh, heh. Ah, phrenology... dismissed as quakery not as long ago as you'd think.

My history of psychology course focuses on the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries, and so we get to see how parapscychology has run parallel to and plagued scientific psychology from this time. It's hard to believe that once-upon-a-time, people who called themselves psychologists were actively engaged in the pursuit of helping people contact dead relatives and helping them find suitable jobs and spouses based on skull bumps or facial features alone.

Scientific psychologists have had a really rough go of it, it seems. Getting people to take you seriously as a science is rather difficult when your colleagues are making a case that we can see your future by consulting some chicken bones.

One might think that society is wise to this snake oil solicited by the pop parapsychologists of today. But is that really true? If you think that the general public is too smart to be taken in by such blatent BS, you might want to consider:

Psychology Today - a popular magazine that reports on issues of general interest in psychology. You could say that this magazine is an ambassador for the science to the general population. It's articles are mostly superficial takes on a few recent or classic studies, thinned out with a lot of opinion pieces. It is written mostly by journalists as opposed to psychologists, but cites reputable sources. Check out the back section of the magazine however, to find countless ads for instant weight loss and, yup, PSYCHICS. Sigh... Foks, just because it has the same root word, doesn't mean it's a science.

Also consider, if you will, how many people you know who believe, and I mean genuinely BELIEVE in astrology, palm reading (not too far off from measuring one's skull), or some version of ghosts/angels.

I'm afraid I won't be forming a terribly cogent thought about all of this this week. I don'dt have any huge reveal for you all here. Just that I thought this was interesting. And as I spend my week delving into the socio-historical context of phrenology, I'm interested in considering its modern-day equivelents.

And, I'm mindful, though many of these "sciences" were proven utter hocus-pocus... there is one that wasn't: hypnosis. Something that has actually been proven effective as a magical answer to pain and other problems. Who knows? If we can genuinely split our pain channels so that a person can have an appendix removed with no anesthetic other than a talented hypnotherpist... well, who knows? Maybe there are clues to personality, fate and free will, compatibility, and even the spirit hidden in the folds of our skin, or between our toes. Maybe we are more likely to find them in the folds of the cortex? The only thing I know for sure is that we don't know enough to know yet.

Exciting times ahead.

It Begins...

I have recently seen a tremendously fun piece of musical theatre based on Sam Raimi's Evil Dead and Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn. The musical was aptly named, "Evil Dead: The Musical," and it was bloody awesome. This made me want to go back and watch the orignial movies + the third in the trillogy, Army of Darkness.

I forgot just how awesome these films are. And I've been meditating on them a lot as I begin my first week of grad school.

I was at a sort of meet-and-greet workshop dealie at the university last week to meet all the key players in the department. It was run by our Psychology Graduate Student Association (PGSA), and I arrived just in time. Normally, I am quite social at these things but I was just in time to sit down and look up for the first speaker.

She was annorexic. I'm not talking like any kind of ooooh, she's a bit skinny kind of thing. I'm talking SCARY, like I was worried that she would fall over behind the podium. Like, she needed a belt for her extra-small spandex and I could see the outline of her skull, despite severally swollen glands. I was rivited. I knew, I mean I KNOW that all of us in the helping professions are drawn here becuase of our own demons. We're all trying to help ourselves and those of us who are successful go on to help others. I knew and know that I will encounter people who are not well in grad school. I guess I just didn't expect to see it right out the gate.

I felt awful, because I knew I was staring, and yet, I couldn't look away. I tried to just look like I was paying rapt attention. I hope that's how it seemed. But honestly, I can't even remember the woman's name let alone anything she talked about. Thank heavens for the handouts.

I starting looking around the room as other key players were introduced. I started to notice that this woman's was not the only obviously emaciated body in the room. There were several people there who looked like they were too frail to be anywhere but in bed, preferably hooked up to an IV drip. I got a little panicky.

I've always been pretty open about my eating disorder (thankfully in remission for some time now) - heck, I've spoken out about EDs on television several times and have made no bones about mentioning my own struggles. I figure that if I can recover, anyone can, and I want to offer that hope to anyone who might have been watching. But I started to get a bit twitchy in this room... realizing that I would be working with some people who are obviously in crisis and wondering how that would affect the work, and moreso, how it would affect me. For example, would I relapse? Be tempted to? Be sucked into the bizzare competition to make oneself the least healthy martyr in the department? The most strict and perfect student?

So much of eating disorders is caught up in perfectionism... no wonder they are in the psych department in numbers.

As I watched this woman introduce speaker after speaker, I got the image of a skeleton stuck in my head. In particular, in Evil Dead 2, when Linda's dismembered corpse comes together again and begins dancing. When Ash cuts her head off and she gets the chainsaw stuck in her spine trying to attack him. I saw that image superimposed over the speaker and saw myself fighting her.

Yeah, enjoy that one, Dr. Freud. You don't have to hit me over the head with a chainsaw.

Dismemberment.

In Evil Dead (both versions), Ash's hand becomes possessed by Candarian (sp?) deamons and he has to cut it off to save himself from it. In the musical, this is particularly campy and delightful as the stage blood sprays out of his wrist and directly into his mouth as he sings. And the actor does a brilliantly choreographed routine of his hand attacking him that the Marx Bros would be proud of.

He cuts it off. A part of him that was integral in his life so that he can survive. And indeed, his brain manages to rewire itself not just so that it survives the pain and loss, but so that it accomodates to the reworked appendage. Eventually, Ash manages to make the chainsaw an extension of his stump... as much a part of his arm as a fiddle is to Ashley MacIssac. And he kicks the asses of every Candarian deamon within arm's length. Heh...

And so it begins. I'm entering the old abandoned cabin in the woods, so to speak. I'm opening up the Necronomicon Ex Mortis and seeing what deamons will come forward looking for MY soul. But I'm not willing to give up more than a hand. One thing I have that Ash didn't, that maybe the PGSA rep didn't, is advanced notice. I've fought deamons before, and I know what they look like. They will be here, no doubt, and I hope I will be ready for them... to study them instead of being the subject of THEIR weird experiment.

"It's time to finally take a stand,
Fight with my stump, and my good hand.
Stop talking trash and kick some deamon ass..."

Time Keeps On Slippin...

Hello blogsketeers! Guess what? This is my first day on my new shift. That means I no longer work full time for the org! And guess what else? It's delightful!

My last day was uneventful. There was no supervisor around but there was still a very plain, only slightly playful feel to the shift. Walking out at the end of the day was definitely anti-climactic. However, I was off to meet a few co-workers for a celebratory drink or two, so I was in good spirits. Especially since I was meeting two workers that I don't often get a chance to hang out with. It was really interesting, because I have definitely been closed here at work for almost two years. Circumstances were such that I just didn't have the emotional resiliance to face any possible confrontations or rejection in that place. So I played things very close to the chest. As a result, I was not at all close with anyone on my shift. No where near the way I was when working nights and felt like my team-mates were my best friends at overnight camp.

And then, there we were, enjoying martinis and chatting quite informally. People opened up a bit, I did too. The next thing I knew we were having a very sincere and heartfelt discussion around relationships with our parents, self-confidence, and the quality of our sex lives. This wasn't the sort of snappy light sex and the city banter. I felt very honoured to be let in on some personal details about some incredible women with whom I've shared the counselling floor. And I was delighted to feel like I was also being accepted, with all my outrageous quirks and stuffy opinions.

It felt...

Well, it felt like what I had been longing for work to feel like for over two years. It felt good. It felt safe and fun. I felt like I belonged. And that's something I hadn't felt at the org for a VERY long time, if ever.

It was nice. I forgot it could be like that. It was a very nice way to end my full time stay there.

And today is day one of my part time life at the org. A 6 hour shift is nothing. Pah! I'm just wondering how things will continue to change for me here, and hoping that the happiness I feel, the lighter feeling of things-are-okay will continue, as I look forward to a 7 year goal that I have chosen. Yeah, I'm feeling tired, but optimistic.

And looking forward to shameless lethargy for the coming week. Any more suggestions on how to recharge are welcome welcome welcome. Bring em on!

Tanning My Own Hide

It's no secret that in order to be an emotionally healthy therapist, one needs to develop the ability for "professional distance." Basically, you have to get a thick skin, otherwise your natural ability to empathize is going to put you at grave risk for developing vicarious trauma. To a certain extent, vicarious trauma is expected. It's an occupational hazard. We all expect it, that and compassion fatigue (a similar but separate problem). But you are never truly prepared for it. And rarely do you even realize what it is until a colleague points it out. Some people who are incredibly self-aware pick up on the fact that they are "not themselves."

Imagine being a body builder and going in to the gym one day to realize that you are actually able to lift less and less than you could before. Baffling... after all, doesn't practise make something easier?

Apparently not when it involves empathy.

I'm not sure if we have empathy stores that dwindle and need to be replenished. Maybe empathy has a reciprocity matrix and the amount of abuse we tolerate from clients takes it's toll on us? Like, "Why can't someone be here for me the way I'm here for THEM? Ungrateful little so and sos..." In some cases where therapy is just not successful, it could be that there is an element of learned helplessness at play. Or maybe the mirror neurons just habituate so much that nothing can make them fire anymore?

I don't know exactly.

But I do know what vicarious trauma (and first hand trauma, for that matter) and compassion fatigue FEEL like. I know that as I enter the end stretch at the old org here, that I'm pretty damn short in the empathy department. And very thankful for my background in performance. I know that I can adhere to the old adage that "The Show Must Go On." I can put aside my discomfort, sadness, fatigue, even rage-filled hatred for the benefit of a client. As long as I know the end is in site.

And it is.

But.

This is not something I particularly care to carry forward with me as I approach the heavy workload of grad skule. Psyche must heal herself before the next challenge starts. I've got to build up some hit points after that last orc attack!

So here is my question, for anyone reading:

What rejuvenates you? What can you suggest that might rejuvenate Psyche?

Let's hear your suggestions, from the divinely inspired to the poorly-thought-out schemes. I eagerly await your descriptions of "self-care."

Studier's Remorse?

There is a concept in psychology called Buyer's Remorse. I think most people are familiar with the idea. Basically, you want something really badly, you purchase it, and then you regret your decision. You discover that the anticipation of getting what you want is actually more pleasurable than actually getting it. Like Oscar Wilde said, "There are only two tragedies in life: Not getting what you want and getting it."

So...

I'm not sure I picked the right school. Yup, I haven't even started classes yet, and I'm already wondering if I made the "right" choice. I know, I know... there is no way to know if it was "right" until after I actually experience it. AND the whole concept of a "right" decision is fundamentally flawed to begin with. But still, I have-a the buyer's remorse.

The school I've chosen, and that I will be attending in September is large. LARGE. It is also very prestigious and my thesis advisor is a very famous and well-connected and well thought of and has money at her disposal. The other school is small, the psych program is new, there is no specific person there that I really want to work with BUT the courses are amazing, they get you into clinical work in the first semester (the other school offers no clinical experience until the PhD level), the clinic is amazing, a really small and intimate environment where you get TONS of attention.

I haven't taken any classes yet, but I'm already having trouble registering for classes. How can this be? I only really have three, and they are all MA1 courses that I have had approved by the department, registration opened at 9am, I registered at 10:30am... how could the course that I was already approved for be FULL??? Seriously??? Okay, so no big deal... I can move my stats class to another section, oh, but the only other section that doesn't conflict with another course is during my own therapy session. And so it goes. At the other school, you register, all the MA1s are in it together, you bond and go!

I'm not sure that there will be as much bonding as competing at this school. Was the choice to have this particular thesis advisor and all her contacts, etc, worth giving up a school with an ethos that actually fit my personality? What is more powerful? The place or the person?

We shall see.

I know that there were more criteria that influenced my decision: proximity to friends and support systems, keeping my part-time job, money, partner, partner's job. I just have a nervous feeling about this. Hopefully, my two weeks off before school starts will help me to relax and see the opportunity, not the problem.

More later.

The Tree Metaphor

A psychology prof once described the process of developing a disorder as a sapling that encounters resistance while growing. If the little seedling's trajectory meets with a material that it can't grow through (for example, a brick wall), it will grow around it. The tree may not grow straight up, but it will still grow. It might grow in a strange shape, or perhaps there will be a dearth of leaves on certain brances, or it's trunk may be crooked. But still it will grow, having compensated it's straight-up trajectory in order to still find the sunlight.

In this way, normative development may be interrupted in a child who encounters stress growing up - especially one who may have a genetic predisposition that makes them vulnerable to some stress. The seed will still grow, but if there is something vulnerable about it and/or it encounters adversity, the result is the development of some coping mechanism which MAY end up being maladaptive in the long-run.

So, little acorns, I've been sitting in the earth for the past six years working through the undergraduate degree part-time. It's finished, and with the grand results from my thesis, the graduation and the Certificate of Excellence from the CPA, this little seedling has finally pushed through the earth and can feel the sun on her face.

Classes start in just over a month. I will be weighing in regularly about the rigours of grad skule life, psychology topics, and how everything seems to remind me of Arkham Asylum. Stay tuned.