This morning I was thinking about muscle testing and heavy work loads. Lately, I've been doing my own muscle testing-how much work load can I really handle? Right now, I don't know the answer. But if my son's recent tire blow out on the freeway is any testament to the dangers of going full speed ahead, I'm proceeding with caution I don't want to be like my Subaru-literally on it's last leg, hobbling along on a spare tire.
So what am I made of? Flexing muscles is fine and good for a Mr. Universe contest, but how much weight can people really lift? All those Schwarzenegger muscles were built in the first place by placing various loads on each muscle-testing them if you will. In the applied kinesiology world, "Muscle testing is a method of diagnosis and treatment based on belief that various muscles are linked to particular organs or glands and that specific muscle weakness can signal internal problems."
Well I know I've got problems. Who doesn't? Some people's problems are so outwardly apparent, they're impossible to ignore. When referring to people who can't see, walk, talk, or think,it's best to use people first language instead of referring to them or even labeling them handicapped, mentally retarded, deaf, dumb, blind etc. They're people with problems, just like you and me. No matter who we are or what hand fate has dealt us, we work-we make an effort to do something...anything.
While addressing some of my problems, I decided to take an additional job as an early morning para-transit driver servicing individuals residing in Utah County. This requires a current CDL with a passenger endorsement. Though I passed the knowledge portion, I still have to pass the skills test in the next couple of weeks. I added airbrakes and school bus endorsement in hopes that I might be of greater service at my current RT job and be more like "Ms Frizzle" from the Magic School Bus. Which by the way, I just learned they're doing a remake with Kate McKinnon doing the voice work. I'm so on point!
Nevertheless I've been so depleted these past few weeks-gas tank empty- running on fumes. Sleep helps, by the way. Like the necessary pre-trip vehicle inspection points- I don't know if I can pass my own fitness for this 2nd job. Am I properly mounted and secure (PMS). Are there any cracks, damages or leaks (CDL).in my psyche. What is my CID- condition, inflation, and depth? Can I go safely forward? Or will I blow out?
One thing that fills me up when I'm feeling deflated is the inspiration from all the hard working people all around me-people carrying such heavy loads. People giving unimaginable service throughout the life of their now adult children-people who will never be able to take care of themselves on their own. They know the drill. They've done it for YEARS. I also find inspiration from the people we pick up. People with problems who literally crawl on to the bus. People who may not be able to see but use their strength to carefully take each step and make their way to their seats. People who get up early, allow others to dress them, and show up day after day, and operate whatever controls they can to move their power chair onto the lift ramp. People who use the coping skills that work for them-whether it's humming, singing, making noises, hugging their stuffed animals, fidgeting with toys, or whatever to manage their mood for a long bus ride until they reach their destination. For many of these people- the destination is work. It's work they can do-work they have done for years. Some are paid-some aren't. For some, their work is showing up and doing any kind of purposeful activity in a day care setting. Nevertheless, it takes some effort on their part...It takes WORK-ennobling work. .
Some say people with multiple disabilities are not here on earth to be tested; rather they are here to test US. Though I agree with that, I also believe these people test their muscles every day. They're working it. They have heavy loads to bear-and they lift them-day after day, year after year. Though you might not see any sign of strength, their "work" muscles would make any body builder jealous. They pump me up!
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Acuity and Vision
This morning I was thinking about acuity and vision. Perhaps it has something to do with my lack of sensory acuity-or being sharply aware of my surroundings. It's not so much that I'm not aware that something is askew, but sometimes I purposely ignore little things to focus on what I consider to be weightier matters. For instance, after disrobing and jumping into the tub, I noticed for the umpteenth time I had worn my sweater backwards all day at work. In the morning I remember my neck being irritated by something (it was a tag) and noticing my neck line was unusually higher but I bounced out the door, oblivious to my cultural faux pas. It made me laugh when I discovered it. It brought to mind my mother's reports of my frequentchildhood practice of leaving for school with clothes on backwards and inside out. Maybe that's why my first student council assignment in Jr. High was being in charge of "Mix and Un-match" Day (aka know as wear whatever crazy thing you'd like).
It was yet another reference to my lack of awareness of what I am doing in relationship to my surroundings. It got me thinking about why my acuity isn't as keen as others. Maybe it has something to do with vision. I still bear the psychic wound after taking a visual acuity test and being assessed as "legally blind" by the school nurse. To this day, I still get nervous around eye charts and seeing what line I can read. I know it's important. I have to demonstrate my visual acuity to get behind the wheel of any vehicle. Though I want to be in control, I must be able to see what I'm doing and see what others are doing while driving.
At work, we deal with acuity. We take some of the most acute kids in west-kids with complex diagnoses and severe behavioral issues. So it's no surprise that some of these kids keep blindly bumping into each other because they lack insight into their own behaviors and their effect on others. They want to be in control, but they are totally out of control. Treatment goals help address deficits, utilize strengths, but most of all provide vision of what to do now and where to go from here. I try to help them see and catch the clear vision of their bright, resilient and hopeful future.
Deciding where to go and what to do in 2017 is on most people's minds in January. With the forces of fate swirling around, I want to feel I have a vision and some control in bringing it to pass.. One of my little mantras as I leave the house each day is, "Let's see what I can do." I want to be the master of my destiny or at least have some say in what happens each day. I want to be in the driver's seat with my hand on the wheel.
I find it curious how on the Brother of Jared's journey to the promised land, the question about steering of the vessels was never really answered. Yes, arrangements were made for survival-they would have air. Yes, they would have light, but in regards for control-it was the winds and the waves propelling the ship forward. It was trusting in the Lord's mercy to protect them from the elements and creatures of the sea. It was a "Jesus take the Wheel Moment" Instead of panicking about their lack of control or motion sickness because they couldn't see out of their non-existent windows they sang praises to the Lord of Light. They weren't oblivious to their surroundings or circumstances; they knew where they were going and how they were going to get there.
I may have sub-par acuity, but I have great vision. I know where I want to go, I know how to get there, and I know what I'm doing. More than anything, I also believe my vision fits within a much broader, comprehensive vision of God's plan for our happiness and my role in that plan. I have work to do-and it's important work, or at least I feel it's important to Him. It's a vision that includes the weightier matters. I want to catch the vision of God's glorious work and the bright, clear, hopeful future.
It was yet another reference to my lack of awareness of what I am doing in relationship to my surroundings. It got me thinking about why my acuity isn't as keen as others. Maybe it has something to do with vision. I still bear the psychic wound after taking a visual acuity test and being assessed as "legally blind" by the school nurse. To this day, I still get nervous around eye charts and seeing what line I can read. I know it's important. I have to demonstrate my visual acuity to get behind the wheel of any vehicle. Though I want to be in control, I must be able to see what I'm doing and see what others are doing while driving.
At work, we deal with acuity. We take some of the most acute kids in west-kids with complex diagnoses and severe behavioral issues. So it's no surprise that some of these kids keep blindly bumping into each other because they lack insight into their own behaviors and their effect on others. They want to be in control, but they are totally out of control. Treatment goals help address deficits, utilize strengths, but most of all provide vision of what to do now and where to go from here. I try to help them see and catch the clear vision of their bright, resilient and hopeful future.
Deciding where to go and what to do in 2017 is on most people's minds in January. With the forces of fate swirling around, I want to feel I have a vision and some control in bringing it to pass.. One of my little mantras as I leave the house each day is, "Let's see what I can do." I want to be the master of my destiny or at least have some say in what happens each day. I want to be in the driver's seat with my hand on the wheel.
I find it curious how on the Brother of Jared's journey to the promised land, the question about steering of the vessels was never really answered. Yes, arrangements were made for survival-they would have air. Yes, they would have light, but in regards for control-it was the winds and the waves propelling the ship forward. It was trusting in the Lord's mercy to protect them from the elements and creatures of the sea. It was a "Jesus take the Wheel Moment" Instead of panicking about their lack of control or motion sickness because they couldn't see out of their non-existent windows they sang praises to the Lord of Light. They weren't oblivious to their surroundings or circumstances; they knew where they were going and how they were going to get there.
I may have sub-par acuity, but I have great vision. I know where I want to go, I know how to get there, and I know what I'm doing. More than anything, I also believe my vision fits within a much broader, comprehensive vision of God's plan for our happiness and my role in that plan. I have work to do-and it's important work, or at least I feel it's important to Him. It's a vision that includes the weightier matters. I want to catch the vision of God's glorious work and the bright, clear, hopeful future.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
2016 Christmas Prose "Feed Yourself Full"
I want to teach my kids to fish
not with fishing pole and bait
but skills to feed themselves
I've been throwing fishes at them for so long
feed my family
put food on the table
A full pantry, a home cooked meal, and full bellies satisfy my mommy heart
But these days, the cupboards are pretty bare- Mom's away and kids fend for themselves
I'm okay with that...they're adults
They should be able to take care of themselves...right?
Making money has never been my strong suit
Good worker, hard worker...but smart worker...
not so much.
With Wall Street noise, frenetic battle between bulls and bears,
I reflect on quieter times-
When a little fish and bread could satisfy the needs of many
When coins for taxes could be found in the mouth of a fish
and a man could make a living by the the sea
All it took was a little direction to find the perfect spot to cast the net
and find it full
Inspired Worker!
Called to the work as fishers of men
Caring for both body and soul
I've thrown many a fish at the feet of little ones
Heartfelt fishing in hopes my faith might feed them
But they too need skills to feed themselves and be Filled with the spirit
Receiving the witness of the Risen Lord-
To one day handle him and see-that a spirit hath not flesh and bones
Partaking fish and honeycomb to make a point
Feeding himself
Body and spirit united
Experiencing Fullness
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Relative Guilt and Shame
This morning I was thinking about guilt and shame sometimes felt while interacting with relatives. It was brought to my attention as my son accused me of guilting and shaming him during his visit. He suggested I was doing the same thing my father had done to me. I was repeating a vicious cycle and certainly not giving him a warm send off. It was a moment of disconnection-a moment of separation. Instead of gathering my chicks around me, I was scattering them with my words and anger directed toward actions and character. I reminded him not to condemn me but rather allow me to make a different choice. Let me repent. Let me change. Let me be with you. Don't put me in a box and slap a label on me. I can communicate in a more loving, empathetic manner.
For some children, coming home for the holidays can be drag. Coming home to "Utah" can cause anxiety as well. It can be a trigger reminding them of the LDS values they grew up with along with cultural expectations of what "good" LDS kids do. Many believe Utah is too "judgy"-a place chocked full of "guilty Mormons." Guilt is not the same as shame though they are often confused and misunderstood.
Guilt can be extremely valuable and helpful. According to Brene Brown, acclaimed shame researcher, guilt lets us know when we're not living according to our values and where we may want to change. She notes that guilt suggests, "I did something bad" versus shame's conclusion that "I am bad." Being able to separate one's sense of worthiness from behavior is key in maintaining mental health and making necessary behavioral changes. Even if we're continually making the same bad choices, it does not mean our behavior is permanently part of who we are-Here's a label...you're a damned soul. Ms Brown states," When we see positive behavioral changes we can almost always track it back to guilt. "Guilt says, 'I've done something and I'm holding it up against my values-and it doesn't feel right... Shame corrodes the part of us that believes we can change." With repetitive wrong doing, she asks at what point our assessment shifts from "You've lied" to You're a liar"- or you've done something bad versus you're a bad person. She suggests" it's that point in which I give up believing you can make different choices." When a person starts believing the label, how can they make different choices?"
Of course, we can avoid feeling guilty by placing ourselves in environments with different values and surrounding ourselves with people without expectations-who allow us to do anything we want and be whatever. We can find people without boundaries and limits-who don't say "Here's what's OK, Here's what's not." We can also numb ourselves to silence the feeling of guilt by engaging in a multitude of unhealthy, unhelpful practices.
We can abandon the idea of coming home all together or connecting with that part of our past or the people who knew us from the beginning. Yet for many, home is symbolic for love and acceptance-a place of beginnings and becomings. It's filled with the people who really know us and love us no matter what; People who would do anything for us-who want us to succeed and are there for us even when we don't. Home is sacred space-a haven from shame, or at least it should be.
If we can't be home, at least we can call. But for some, that too induces guilt and shame. Satan loves shame and tells us we're not worthy to call home through prayer-we're not worthy of any type of connection with our Maker. He gives us alternative ways to feel good or feel god within us.
Since shame erodes our sense of worthiness for connection, perhaps the trend in new age spirituality is a way to circumvent shame and guilt. It makes some people feel better to connect with a spirit essence of the universe imposing no laws or will upon them. Why make all this effort to repent and be clean if God can dwell in a unholy temple anyway? My body is a temple. Who needs a Savior if you can connect with god without any limits on my behaviors. Why all this holy and worthiness stuff. That's induces shame. I should be able to connect with the power of the universe regardless-right? Well then-why even take a bath? Why even "deck the halls" for special visitors. Hey-this is me-this is how it is...deal with it. I'm home. I'm here with you.
It's all so confusing. Nevertheless, I know my Heavenly Father doesn't shame me. He believes I can change! He doesn't give up on me! His calls for my repentance might not be all warm and fuzzy. These behavioral observations or heavenly feedback may make me feel uncomfortable and yes, at times even guilty. But I will not confuse that with shame. The antidote for shame is love and empathy. Love washes over any feeling of shame. I receive an amply supply of that feeling through the atonement of Jesus Christ. He is my perfect empath helping me not only feel at home here on earth, but empowering me on the path leading back to my heavenly home.
For some children, coming home for the holidays can be drag. Coming home to "Utah" can cause anxiety as well. It can be a trigger reminding them of the LDS values they grew up with along with cultural expectations of what "good" LDS kids do. Many believe Utah is too "judgy"-a place chocked full of "guilty Mormons." Guilt is not the same as shame though they are often confused and misunderstood.
Guilt can be extremely valuable and helpful. According to Brene Brown, acclaimed shame researcher, guilt lets us know when we're not living according to our values and where we may want to change. She notes that guilt suggests, "I did something bad" versus shame's conclusion that "I am bad." Being able to separate one's sense of worthiness from behavior is key in maintaining mental health and making necessary behavioral changes. Even if we're continually making the same bad choices, it does not mean our behavior is permanently part of who we are-Here's a label...you're a damned soul. Ms Brown states," When we see positive behavioral changes we can almost always track it back to guilt. "Guilt says, 'I've done something and I'm holding it up against my values-and it doesn't feel right... Shame corrodes the part of us that believes we can change." With repetitive wrong doing, she asks at what point our assessment shifts from "You've lied" to You're a liar"- or you've done something bad versus you're a bad person. She suggests" it's that point in which I give up believing you can make different choices." When a person starts believing the label, how can they make different choices?"
Of course, we can avoid feeling guilty by placing ourselves in environments with different values and surrounding ourselves with people without expectations-who allow us to do anything we want and be whatever. We can find people without boundaries and limits-who don't say "Here's what's OK, Here's what's not." We can also numb ourselves to silence the feeling of guilt by engaging in a multitude of unhealthy, unhelpful practices.
We can abandon the idea of coming home all together or connecting with that part of our past or the people who knew us from the beginning. Yet for many, home is symbolic for love and acceptance-a place of beginnings and becomings. It's filled with the people who really know us and love us no matter what; People who would do anything for us-who want us to succeed and are there for us even when we don't. Home is sacred space-a haven from shame, or at least it should be.
If we can't be home, at least we can call. But for some, that too induces guilt and shame. Satan loves shame and tells us we're not worthy to call home through prayer-we're not worthy of any type of connection with our Maker. He gives us alternative ways to feel good or feel god within us.
Since shame erodes our sense of worthiness for connection, perhaps the trend in new age spirituality is a way to circumvent shame and guilt. It makes some people feel better to connect with a spirit essence of the universe imposing no laws or will upon them. Why make all this effort to repent and be clean if God can dwell in a unholy temple anyway? My body is a temple. Who needs a Savior if you can connect with god without any limits on my behaviors. Why all this holy and worthiness stuff. That's induces shame. I should be able to connect with the power of the universe regardless-right? Well then-why even take a bath? Why even "deck the halls" for special visitors. Hey-this is me-this is how it is...deal with it. I'm home. I'm here with you.
It's all so confusing. Nevertheless, I know my Heavenly Father doesn't shame me. He believes I can change! He doesn't give up on me! His calls for my repentance might not be all warm and fuzzy. These behavioral observations or heavenly feedback may make me feel uncomfortable and yes, at times even guilty. But I will not confuse that with shame. The antidote for shame is love and empathy. Love washes over any feeling of shame. I receive an amply supply of that feeling through the atonement of Jesus Christ. He is my perfect empath helping me not only feel at home here on earth, but empowering me on the path leading back to my heavenly home.
Monday, November 28, 2016
Fool
This morning I was thinking about the importance of admitting my own stupidity and how it can open the channel to much needed guidance and support. I suppose in the same manner, holding on to the idea, "I'm not that stupid" or "I would never do something so foolish" bolsters my pride rather than builds me up.
I so badly want to be "smart." Having dealt with dumb blonde jokes my whole life, or being referred to as an "airhead", I suppose it's natural wanting to prove everyone wrong. Lately, instead of using my mornings for thinking (as noted in the title of this blog) I've been focusing on education via the internet. I'm trying to take more control of my financial future and learn investment strategies with limited risk. The smart goal is to have enough knowledge and skill so my choices will look more like investing than gambling. I'm not doing so well but at this point, I'm still willing to try. When I've succeeded, it's usually been more luck than skill. I'd love to attribute results to my own genius. But the fact remains...I lose-whether it's my emotional side running the show or getting distracted-something seems to be getting in the way. I have to figure it out asap.
This weekend I went with my mother to watch my kids shoot guns up the canyon at the Provo Gun Club. It was great to see my daughter's swagger as she shared her passion with her siblings. I had ear protection most of the time, but it was easy to feel rattled inside as the powerful guns went off. When it was time to leave, I couldn't find the keys to the car. We knew I mostly stayed in the car. I laughed with my mom saying "It's not like I just went out there and waved my hands in the air like an idiot and threw my keys into the air. They have to be here in the car somewhere. I'm not that stupid." My daughter had a spare key and we left the range knowing the key would turn up later.
While sitting with my mom at the library listening to a fabulous chamber orchestra concert, I went over the details at the gun club and where the keys could be. I tried to enjoy the world class musicians as much as possible but found my mind drifting. Finally I said to myself, "You know Erin, you are pretty stupid and you would get out the car, get distracted and drop your keys in some random place." At that point, I received a prompting to return to the gun range and look in the dirt even though I knew no one would be there and it might be closed. I had to try. My mom wasn't too keen on the idea, but we went immediately after the concert.
Miraculously, the gates were still open and we saw a few cars in the lot. The head dude with the orange safety jacket came out to the car and asked if I was missing some keys and handed them to me. He explained how lucky I was since he would usually be gone by now but was testing out some new gun and stayed later. What a blessing! I was glad I had listened to that voice telling me to go back now and check. However, I don't think I would have had the same result if I didn't admit previously that I was that stupid. Perhaps I would have kept looking in my purse, car etc and missed the small window of opportunity to find the guy in the orange jacket.
How many promptings do I ignore daily? What treasures could I find if I would only listen and respond immediately? How many promptings are blocked because I'm too concerned with building myself up rather than being humble and teachable? It reminded me of a great scripture in the Book of Mormon in 2 Nephi 9:42
"And whoso knocketh, to him will he open; and the wise, and the learned, and they that are rich, who are puffed up because of their learning, and their wisdom, and their riches-yea, they are they whom he despiseth; and save they shall cast these things away, and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them."
Yes, I want to be smart, but I also want to be a fool-a fool for Christ.
I so badly want to be "smart." Having dealt with dumb blonde jokes my whole life, or being referred to as an "airhead", I suppose it's natural wanting to prove everyone wrong. Lately, instead of using my mornings for thinking (as noted in the title of this blog) I've been focusing on education via the internet. I'm trying to take more control of my financial future and learn investment strategies with limited risk. The smart goal is to have enough knowledge and skill so my choices will look more like investing than gambling. I'm not doing so well but at this point, I'm still willing to try. When I've succeeded, it's usually been more luck than skill. I'd love to attribute results to my own genius. But the fact remains...I lose-whether it's my emotional side running the show or getting distracted-something seems to be getting in the way. I have to figure it out asap.
This weekend I went with my mother to watch my kids shoot guns up the canyon at the Provo Gun Club. It was great to see my daughter's swagger as she shared her passion with her siblings. I had ear protection most of the time, but it was easy to feel rattled inside as the powerful guns went off. When it was time to leave, I couldn't find the keys to the car. We knew I mostly stayed in the car. I laughed with my mom saying "It's not like I just went out there and waved my hands in the air like an idiot and threw my keys into the air. They have to be here in the car somewhere. I'm not that stupid." My daughter had a spare key and we left the range knowing the key would turn up later.
While sitting with my mom at the library listening to a fabulous chamber orchestra concert, I went over the details at the gun club and where the keys could be. I tried to enjoy the world class musicians as much as possible but found my mind drifting. Finally I said to myself, "You know Erin, you are pretty stupid and you would get out the car, get distracted and drop your keys in some random place." At that point, I received a prompting to return to the gun range and look in the dirt even though I knew no one would be there and it might be closed. I had to try. My mom wasn't too keen on the idea, but we went immediately after the concert.
Miraculously, the gates were still open and we saw a few cars in the lot. The head dude with the orange safety jacket came out to the car and asked if I was missing some keys and handed them to me. He explained how lucky I was since he would usually be gone by now but was testing out some new gun and stayed later. What a blessing! I was glad I had listened to that voice telling me to go back now and check. However, I don't think I would have had the same result if I didn't admit previously that I was that stupid. Perhaps I would have kept looking in my purse, car etc and missed the small window of opportunity to find the guy in the orange jacket.
How many promptings do I ignore daily? What treasures could I find if I would only listen and respond immediately? How many promptings are blocked because I'm too concerned with building myself up rather than being humble and teachable? It reminded me of a great scripture in the Book of Mormon in 2 Nephi 9:42
"And whoso knocketh, to him will he open; and the wise, and the learned, and they that are rich, who are puffed up because of their learning, and their wisdom, and their riches-yea, they are they whom he despiseth; and save they shall cast these things away, and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them."
Yes, I want to be smart, but I also want to be a fool-a fool for Christ.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Tether
This morning I was thinking about tethering myself to lifesaving devices and their power to help us surface from the deep. This has reference to a required demonstrable skill for a lifeguarding class I was required to take last year. To perform a deep water submerged victim rescue, the lifeguard performs a feet first dive, finds and holds onto to the victim's side, uses both hands in a coordinated manner to pull on the towline until reaching the surface then places the red tube between the guard and victim. It's not easy, especially in a stressful testing situation, let alone in real life. The little 16 year old would be lifeguards did great but you can imagine how I did; me performing under pressure-not a good mix. It was miserable. My wet hands were shaking so badly after pulling my classmate out of the water that I struggled for several minutes just put the stupid nitrile gloves on. My CPR manikin had to wait a long time to get its' CPR. In real life the victim would have been dead.
A couple of weeks ago I was in another situation requiring lifesaving skills during my Wilderness First Responder training to fill another work requirement. This time around the class was much more demanding. My training was full of hard core wilderness/adventure people with the likes of helicopter skiing guides who had been in avalanches, a guy starting up an outfitting business to hunt bears and lions, a medical director who oversees operations for climbing expeditions in Nepal, an OT whose husband did search and rescue or was in special ops or something intense, a seasoned canyoneering dude with a scar for every high risk mishap he's had in the last 30 years, and then there was me...Well, let's just say I didn't quite fit in as Mary Poppins full of sweetness and light who freaks out under pressure.
I was put on the spot since I was grouped with the "recerts" who were suppose to already know what they were doing. So in my group trauma scenario, my trainer set it up-"a bus load of tourist at a National Park just crashed into a tree; you're x miles away from cell phone service; you are the first on the scene; now go respond." Trying to act as point to triage and treat multiple victims had me running around the room like a foolish little girl who obviously didn't know what she was doing. It was a joke. I was a joke.
It wasn't much better when I only had one pretend victim as I tried to pull traction (which I have never done) on a dislocated shoulder and use a fake Epi pen properly. When I'm super stressed, every little piece of information flies out the window-my mind goes completely blank. Not only did I miss some key pieces of the assessment, but I apparently pretend shot myself with the epi pen. Great. Though I nearly got a perfect score on the written test, I failed the practical and ended up staying for much of the remainder of the week to complete additional training.
It sounds funny now, but it was not funny then. Since only 2 days prior to the start this wilderness responder class, I literally could not find the strength to get out of bed to return to the doctor and have my blood drawn. I was so feverish and dehydrated-my body wasn't cooperating. I was still dealing with this allergic reaction to "something" during much of this training. I was itchy, puffy, uncomfortable and felt like my skin was drying up and falling off. I was not in my best form during this training but I blame it more on my mental state.
All this performance under pressure stuff sent me head long into an emotional crisis of self evaluation. I spent the following week staying in bed much longer, not because I was sick, but because I felt a little aimless and unmotivated. Getting back on track at work was difficult after my absence. I was a fish out of water.
Looking back at those weeks, I felt like I was submerged under water, struggling to breathe. The only constant thread running through each morning during those weeks was reading a couple chapters of the Book of Mormon on my cell phone. As I lay in bed trying to face the new day, it seemed like each verse spoke directly to me and gave me perspective and some courage. It was a lifeline of faith, hope, and charity. It was a lifeline reminding me of the vital and lifesaving doctrines of Christ.
This morning, when considering whether or not to share my testimony during sacrament meeting, the image of the red rescue tube came to mind and I equated it with the Book of Mormon. It acted as a heavenly tether to the surface of the land of the living; all I had to do was reach up and keep pulling and eventually I would rise from the abyss and breathe again. Perhaps that's a bit too dramatic; I really wasn't that low but I know the Book of Mormon has dramatic, mighty power to save. It is a buoyant object I can rely on-a great tether!
A couple of weeks ago I was in another situation requiring lifesaving skills during my Wilderness First Responder training to fill another work requirement. This time around the class was much more demanding. My training was full of hard core wilderness/adventure people with the likes of helicopter skiing guides who had been in avalanches, a guy starting up an outfitting business to hunt bears and lions, a medical director who oversees operations for climbing expeditions in Nepal, an OT whose husband did search and rescue or was in special ops or something intense, a seasoned canyoneering dude with a scar for every high risk mishap he's had in the last 30 years, and then there was me...Well, let's just say I didn't quite fit in as Mary Poppins full of sweetness and light who freaks out under pressure.
I was put on the spot since I was grouped with the "recerts" who were suppose to already know what they were doing. So in my group trauma scenario, my trainer set it up-"a bus load of tourist at a National Park just crashed into a tree; you're x miles away from cell phone service; you are the first on the scene; now go respond." Trying to act as point to triage and treat multiple victims had me running around the room like a foolish little girl who obviously didn't know what she was doing. It was a joke. I was a joke.
It wasn't much better when I only had one pretend victim as I tried to pull traction (which I have never done) on a dislocated shoulder and use a fake Epi pen properly. When I'm super stressed, every little piece of information flies out the window-my mind goes completely blank. Not only did I miss some key pieces of the assessment, but I apparently pretend shot myself with the epi pen. Great. Though I nearly got a perfect score on the written test, I failed the practical and ended up staying for much of the remainder of the week to complete additional training.
It sounds funny now, but it was not funny then. Since only 2 days prior to the start this wilderness responder class, I literally could not find the strength to get out of bed to return to the doctor and have my blood drawn. I was so feverish and dehydrated-my body wasn't cooperating. I was still dealing with this allergic reaction to "something" during much of this training. I was itchy, puffy, uncomfortable and felt like my skin was drying up and falling off. I was not in my best form during this training but I blame it more on my mental state.
All this performance under pressure stuff sent me head long into an emotional crisis of self evaluation. I spent the following week staying in bed much longer, not because I was sick, but because I felt a little aimless and unmotivated. Getting back on track at work was difficult after my absence. I was a fish out of water.
Looking back at those weeks, I felt like I was submerged under water, struggling to breathe. The only constant thread running through each morning during those weeks was reading a couple chapters of the Book of Mormon on my cell phone. As I lay in bed trying to face the new day, it seemed like each verse spoke directly to me and gave me perspective and some courage. It was a lifeline of faith, hope, and charity. It was a lifeline reminding me of the vital and lifesaving doctrines of Christ.
This morning, when considering whether or not to share my testimony during sacrament meeting, the image of the red rescue tube came to mind and I equated it with the Book of Mormon. It acted as a heavenly tether to the surface of the land of the living; all I had to do was reach up and keep pulling and eventually I would rise from the abyss and breathe again. Perhaps that's a bit too dramatic; I really wasn't that low but I know the Book of Mormon has dramatic, mighty power to save. It is a buoyant object I can rely on-a great tether!
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Event Will Go On-Rain or Shine
This morning I was thinking about 2 events that went on-rain or shine. One was the Chalk the Block event held at the Provo Riverwoods; the other a planned outdoor wedding up at a Sundance cabin for my fellow RT and office mate. Both events could not be "rained out" or re-scheduled-even if they were happening in less than ideal autumn weather. I referenced both of these events for my group yesterday about managing disappointments. I asked the kids how they would go on if their dreams and plans were doused and drenched by forces they could not control. I had them consider what types of rain storms blow through their life dampening their spirits and how they cope.
Though I'm sure the Chalk the Block artists are inspirational every year, interviewing the die-hards provided powerful examples of resilience. These artists-many high school and college students had spent hours, even days on their pastel chalk drawings only to see their labors washed away by the rain. They came prepared to protect their art with tarps, duct tape, tents, canopies, leaf blowers, brooms-anything-as they labored to salvage their drawings...yet the rain kept coming. It didn't seem to let up-it kept pooling up, seeping under the protective coverings. It was perfectly understandable how some of these artists quit and went home. However, it more surprising to see all the artists that literally went "back to the drawing board" to do their artwork over and over again. Some reported going to their cars, crying, letting it all out, regrouping, and returning to their parking space to start again. They were cold, haggard, and worn out physically and emotionally. How do you find the strength to keep going when things don't seem to let up?
By the time our students were touring the artwork, the rain had stopped. The artists were making progress painstakingly redoing their work. When asking the kids to consider what they had learned, they reported being inspired by the patience, persistence, and passion of these artists. They saw examples of people who cried then tried again, who were passionate about art-who are driven to create-getting in the zone to work 11 hours straight; who honored loved ones and their memories by depicting them in their art, who shared a part of themselves and what's important to them to make the world a more beautiful place-if only for a brief moment.
As we drove back to campus I pointed out the sun shining through the clouds and how in a half hour, our RT would get her outside wedding. It wouldn't be perfect-but it wouldn't be raining. It would be held in the forest, not in a tent. Though she had been so anxious about her perfectly planned event being ruined-she had gotten her break. As I drove up and drank in the spectacular sunset and autumn colors, I couldn't help think the green, yellow, orange, and red leaves seemed more vibrant after the storm-how the sunset was particularly dramatic as it danced off the clouds. I parked the car and made it to the dance floor to witness my sweet co-worker like a fairy princess in her fairy like forest kingdom. She looked absolutely stunning surrounded by her friends and family. I cried. I was happy to capture the image in my heart. She was as inspirational as those chalk artists. It was just what I needed.
The turn in the weather seemed to mimic my own depressed mood. I was so sad this week. Like the gloomy clouds, colder temperatures, and incessant rainfall, I too was crying-not because I was spiritually moved, but because I was sad. So sad and disappointed. Sad for personal failures with work, home, and church, sad for my circumstances, sad for my children's heartaches, sad about other people's choices as well as my own. Sad and unmotivated to keep going. I felt like canceling everything and staying in bed, and doing nothing-it's a rain out.
When a car accidently clipped me this week while riding my bike and kept on driving without noticing, I burst into tears like the crying clouds above me. It seemed to represented exactly how I felt lately-invisible, alone, bent out of shape, stopped in my tracks, aimless, out of place and beat up. Yet just when I feel like the rain is never going to let up, something reminds me that the sun eventually breaks through the clouds-the rain stops just enough to finish crying, dust myself off, and get back to work-even if it's redoing my artwork-my lifework for the upteenth time. There will be those perfect autumn days when everything seems right and I'm soaring with the hawks while riding the zip line at Sundance but I realize that weather can change rapidly. Each day is my main event and it will go on-rain or shine.
Though I'm sure the Chalk the Block artists are inspirational every year, interviewing the die-hards provided powerful examples of resilience. These artists-many high school and college students had spent hours, even days on their pastel chalk drawings only to see their labors washed away by the rain. They came prepared to protect their art with tarps, duct tape, tents, canopies, leaf blowers, brooms-anything-as they labored to salvage their drawings...yet the rain kept coming. It didn't seem to let up-it kept pooling up, seeping under the protective coverings. It was perfectly understandable how some of these artists quit and went home. However, it more surprising to see all the artists that literally went "back to the drawing board" to do their artwork over and over again. Some reported going to their cars, crying, letting it all out, regrouping, and returning to their parking space to start again. They were cold, haggard, and worn out physically and emotionally. How do you find the strength to keep going when things don't seem to let up?
By the time our students were touring the artwork, the rain had stopped. The artists were making progress painstakingly redoing their work. When asking the kids to consider what they had learned, they reported being inspired by the patience, persistence, and passion of these artists. They saw examples of people who cried then tried again, who were passionate about art-who are driven to create-getting in the zone to work 11 hours straight; who honored loved ones and their memories by depicting them in their art, who shared a part of themselves and what's important to them to make the world a more beautiful place-if only for a brief moment.
As we drove back to campus I pointed out the sun shining through the clouds and how in a half hour, our RT would get her outside wedding. It wouldn't be perfect-but it wouldn't be raining. It would be held in the forest, not in a tent. Though she had been so anxious about her perfectly planned event being ruined-she had gotten her break. As I drove up and drank in the spectacular sunset and autumn colors, I couldn't help think the green, yellow, orange, and red leaves seemed more vibrant after the storm-how the sunset was particularly dramatic as it danced off the clouds. I parked the car and made it to the dance floor to witness my sweet co-worker like a fairy princess in her fairy like forest kingdom. She looked absolutely stunning surrounded by her friends and family. I cried. I was happy to capture the image in my heart. She was as inspirational as those chalk artists. It was just what I needed.
The turn in the weather seemed to mimic my own depressed mood. I was so sad this week. Like the gloomy clouds, colder temperatures, and incessant rainfall, I too was crying-not because I was spiritually moved, but because I was sad. So sad and disappointed. Sad for personal failures with work, home, and church, sad for my circumstances, sad for my children's heartaches, sad about other people's choices as well as my own. Sad and unmotivated to keep going. I felt like canceling everything and staying in bed, and doing nothing-it's a rain out.
When a car accidently clipped me this week while riding my bike and kept on driving without noticing, I burst into tears like the crying clouds above me. It seemed to represented exactly how I felt lately-invisible, alone, bent out of shape, stopped in my tracks, aimless, out of place and beat up. Yet just when I feel like the rain is never going to let up, something reminds me that the sun eventually breaks through the clouds-the rain stops just enough to finish crying, dust myself off, and get back to work-even if it's redoing my artwork-my lifework for the upteenth time. There will be those perfect autumn days when everything seems right and I'm soaring with the hawks while riding the zip line at Sundance but I realize that weather can change rapidly. Each day is my main event and it will go on-rain or shine.
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