M for "Mother"

There’s no way of sugarcoating this, so I’ll just say it…my own mom unfriended me on Facebook this past weekend. That’s right, folks! If you live and die by Facebook, you now know that I am such an all out awful person that my own mother cannot be friends with me. Thankfully, I am not such a person, so my self esteem isn’t even close to shattered. It’s more likely you’re extremely jealous of me. LOL!  I wish I could share my secrets for how you too can have your mom unfriend you on Facebook, but you have to start out with a batshit crazy mom, so many of you are likely out of luck.

While I am more than happy to no longer have my mom on my Facebook friends list, this whole thing has repercussions off of Facebook as well and I’m left feeling pretty angry and sad about the whole thing. I absolutely cannot believe the lengths my own mother will go to, in her pervasive and almost sick need for drama, to get attention.

It all started with a tattletale…

My mom has posted two pictures of my six year old nephew in his underwear over the past week. This didn’t sit well with me, as I think six is too old for those kinds of pictures to be taken and placed on a social networking site; especially on the profile of an attention whore  individual who is “friends” with half the world and doesn’t really utilize privacy settings. (Because how then would she maximize the amount of attention she receives?) I am, however, not a parent, so I thought I could just be being too sensitive based on the fact that we have recently been discussing over sexualized and sexually abused children in social work school. I decided to put it to a vote.

Were the majority of people to confirm my suspicions that those types of photos are inappropriate for social media or the internet, I was going to bite the bullet and talk to my mom about my thoughts. Even though telling her you disagree with something she’s doing never works out well, because she is childish, and anytime I’ve brought up concerns with her in the past she’s either ignored them or pretended to appreciate what I say only to turn around and backstab me to someone else. (Yeah…she’s really a gem of a mother.)

I utilized Facebook’s group and privacy settings to put up a status that my mother, and people I thought would tattle to my mother, could not see. I asked what people thought the cutoff age for such pictures should be or what they thought of nude/half nude pictures of children in general. After a couple people weighed in basically agreeing with me, I went into more detail and asked specifically what people thought of pictures of six year olds in underwear and explaining why I was asking (i.e. mom posted two underwear pics of nephew in a week and it doesn’t sit well with me). Well, apparently I didn’t do a good enough job determining just how far up my mom’s ass some people are who might be a tattletale, because someone tattled to my mommy.

I’m out stuffing my face with amazing pizza having a lovely dinner with my husband Saturday night and get this dramatic text:

“I have nothing to say to your ears. When u can TALK to me and my heart I WILL listen.”*

*Everything in colored text and quotes from this point forward is exactly as it was written, which means as much as it pains me, I haven't corrected spelling mistakes or grammar.

Nice, huh? She’s a poet, isn’t she? Also, remember this text because it will come into play later.

I thought I knew what this pertained to, but I wasn’t going to play games with her. I texted back:

“What?”

Because I'm simple like that. It took about fifteen minutes for her to reply, because she was very busy unfriending me and my husband—who she insisted just last week needed to be her Facebook friend—and posting a dramatic status on Facebook. This was her reply:

“FACE BOOK. I am so sad YOU became so non verbal and distant.”

I love how she uses big concept like nonverbal (not correctly, of course, because it is only one word) as though she is some sort of educated, highly evolved, and caring mother. And distant? Wow…way to finally catch on. I’ve been distant for years now. Partially because school has kept me beyond busy the past few years, partially because I’m sick of watching her try to profit from my sister’s death, and mostly because she’s been a shit mom my whole life and as an adult I finally get to decide how my relationships will play out. Also, I can’t stand watching her screw up my nephew’s life.

I replied with this: “Sorry you’re sad…I’m also sorry that tattletales start drama and you play into it. I WAS going to discuss my concerns with you, but was trying to figure out if I was off base first. I’m only as distant as you allow me to be and am plenty verbal, thanks. Gets really old talking and not being listened to or having what I say not matter though, so…”

I have brought up numerous concerns regarding my nephew and other issues over the past few years. Because she said after my sister’s death that my nephew would be raised by a village now, I foolishly assumed I was part of that village and figured my words would matter. They didn’t. Not once has anything I said mattered. As I said above, she does one of a few things when I bring up concerns regarding my nephew:

(1) Pretends to give a shit about what I say and then just flat out ignore it.

(2) Feels threatened by the fact that I'm smarter than her, decides I'm only saying what I am to be "better" than her, and tells me that I don’t understand or am confused and refuses to explain it so I will understand.

(3) Lies and tells me that an “expert” like a counselor or someone told her ABC advice, which is clearly different from and better than mine.

(4) Backstabs me and drags me through the mud to other people or on Facebook (before this it was usually in ambiguous status messages that only I understood were about me).

(5) Gets better about hiding the things I’m concerned about so that she can continue to do what she wants and not have to worry about me chiming in. (i.e. She told me my nephew would no longer see/talk to the murderer’s family, because I was right that really no good could come of it and they might have underlying motives. Of course, she didn’t come to this conclusion due to anything I said. She figured this out after a radio psychic told her my sister’s spirit is still around to protect my nephew, because she doesn’t like that my mother is allowing the relatives of my nephew’s father—also known as my sister’s murderer—around my nephew. Yes. You read that right. She trusts radio psychics before her own daughter. All was good for a while, but she eventually refriended them on Facebook and even invited them to the memorial bonfire for my sister this year.)

She did not reply to my last text. Apparently, not only did she not have anything to say to my ears, but she also no longer had anything to say to my eyes either. She sure did have a mouthful to say on Facebook though! Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be. My mother is clearly a thirteen year old girl. I have been the adult, and she the child, since I was around ten years old. I am 33 now, so you can imagine what a long couple of decades it’s been.

Ever the victim, this is the dramatic status she posted right after she unfriended me on Facebook:

“JUST unfriended someone. FB I’m outta Here. Just in it for the games now. I wont be offending anymore people with my pictures.”

She got 18 comments and one like from friends who buy her bullshit lies and play into her drama. In the ultimate show of solidarity (and to illustrate just how infantile they can be) my mom’s husband also changed his profile picture to the infamous George Costanza picture (shown below) but with his head Photo Shopped onto the body. (He is a Photo Shop wizard, ya'll!)

Mom commented on this photo: “Oh no! Is that you in ur undies? ;-)”

Hilarious, right?! Yeah….they’re the grownups, folks. In addition to my previous concerns about underwear pics of my nephew, I’m now concerned that he’s being raised by people whose cognitive capacity, executive functioning, maturity, and intelligence he now far surpasses at the ripe old age of six.

One of the 18 comments she received on her dramatic status was from my aunt, we’ll just call her Trashy McTrasherson, who told her:

“tell them to KISS YOUR @#$%^&. kepp doing what your doing.If you dont want to deal with person SEND THEM MY WAY” Because it’s super easy to be tough on Facebook when you live hundreds of miles away and are complete trash.

My mom responded to said aunt with:“it’s FAMILY and we both know I cant turn my back on FAMILY…My oldest.” Then followed that comment up with this gem: “Just want to make her list of APPROVAL and get a bit more physical support instead of excuses and back biting.”

Because my mother is a martyr and loves to lie. My mom excels at lying. If she could find a job doing it, she might just be able to hold down a job. She turned her back on me quite awhile ago, depending on from whose vantage point you’re looking and what counts as turning one’s back. If you count the first time she ever called me derogatory names or sad horrible things no parent should ever say to a child, she turned her back on me when I was about 10. If you count going on a “family trip” that you mention to your daughter only a few days before without having invited her, then she only just turned her back on me last summer and again a couple months ago for good measure. She treats just about everyone in her life better than she’s ever treated me, including her weirdo stalker (her words, not mine) “best friend” who moved in with them months ago and might be just as mentally unstable, if not more so, than I believe my mother to be.

She wants to make my list of approval? REALLY?!! Wow…that’s news to me. And to think I’ve spent most of my life trying to get her approval, or at the very least, just to get her to say something somewhat positive or nice about me to my face and mean it. She’s notorious for talking about what a smart, wonderful daughter I am in front of other people, because then she gets the credit for being my mother and making me that way. In private, however, it’s a different story and she deserves absolutely no credit at all for any of my positive attributes (of which I’m told by independent, verifiable sources there are many). The credit for those goes to my resilience, intelligence, drive, and other mysterious factors that thankfully prevented me from turning out anything at all like her.

From about the age of nine or ten on, in addition to basically raising her kids for her, I was emotionally and psychologically abused on a regular basis. Her favorite thing to do was to belittle any of my happy moments or successes by telling me I was a “Prima Donna Bitch who thinks you’re better than everyone else.” The real kicker? In her public praise, she’d call me her Prima Ballerina. Sick, huh? Words do hurt people, and they do leave scars. Good old mom! I have honestly lost count of how many times she’s called me a bitch alone, never apologized for the caustic words she's spewed, and went on to pretended nothing happened.

Yet she was surprised when I started saving up and buying household supplies at fifteen in preparation for moving out on my own. I’m not joking! By the time I finally moved out of her house at twenty, I had everything I needed to setup a house, except furniture. Every penny I made was used to put gas in my car, so that I could continue to get to work and school, and all of the rest went towards buying dishes, towels, small kitchen appliances, and whatever else I thought I might need for life on my own. I wanted out, and not just because she wanted me out. I was burnt out and tired, sick of being the only adult in the house, and sick of being abused for no good reason.

As far as the physical support she seeks, I believe that refers to her wanting me to take my nephew off her hands more often to give her a break. As much as I love to see him, it breaks my heart that I have neither the time nor the energy to keep a six year old for a whole weekend. I have told her repeatedly we’d be glad to have him overnight here or there and that all she needs to do is let me know about a week in advance so that I can prepare by getting homework and housework done early. Apparently that’s not good enough. When we do have him stay, I just get sad. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize that he is becoming more like them and less like his awesome mother every single day. That just hurts deep down to my very core. Not to mention that she made it very clear to me last time I brought up a concern with her that I was no longer part of the village that raised him. She posted on Facebook about how her family (meaning those living in her house) and those who matter know and understand what's going on with him and all that she's doing to give him a better life. It was very apparent I was not one of those who mattered since I was not aware of all that she was doing, which was evidenced by the expression of my concerns.

As far as “back biting” is concerned, that wasn’t what I was doing with my original Facebook post. But, she’ll never know that, because she chooses to believe what a stranger with no life (i.e. Facebook Tattletale) told her over her own daughter. Also, despite having had the opportunity to learn from the back biting grand champion, I have never really picked up this “talent.” And what the fuck is it called when you drag your daughter through the mud all over Facebook? Is that something different than back biting?! It must be, because someone as evolved and adult as my mother surely wouldn’t engage in such behavior.

For excuses, I think she’s referring to the fact that I missed the memorial bonfire for my sister this year (first time in the four years she’s been gone) because I had a migraine. She’s a bitch for calling my medical issues an excuse, but then again she’s never understood my medical issues and likely never will. She’s entirely too selfish to truly care how much suffering migraines cause for me.

Of course, that dramatic victim status she posted was only for attention. She wasn’t truly “outta Here” and proceeded to post yet another status on Facebook yesterday. (Yes, I have my tattletales too. No, seriously…she was just too stupid or too hysterical to unfriend my dog, so I peeked on her page before having my dog unfriended her. In the Facebook hierarchy, I still think I win the title of most awesomest unfriending of all time.  Unless, of course, getting unfriended by a dog is worse than being unfriended by your mom, in which case she is the ultimate grand champion of being unfriended.)

“Am very teary eyed that I had soooo much unresolved drama with my oldest yesterday. She still hasn’t a clue on how the phone works for more than texting.” (Sadly, only six likes and three comments of support on this one.)

Someone posted a picture an ubber encouraging picture of the Cat In The Hat with the Dr. Seuss quote: “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” (Clearly missing the point that what started all of this in the first place was me saying what I felt.) My mom then commented under that “Sad thing is the person I deleted is my oldest child.I thought I raised my kids with the comfort that they could TALK to me when things bothered them :(”

And, once again, who’s the backbiter now? Seriously?! You’re sad over unresolved drama YOU CREATED?!?! Are you fucking serious?! It’s laughable that she says I don’t know how to use the phone for more than texting when she’s always the one who texts me. That is pretty much the only way she ever communicates with me. All holiday and birthday invites from her are texts, she randomly texts me shit my nephew wants, and she texts me all the time saying she'd like to come meet me for lunch and then never actually follows through. Since that’s the way she chooses to communicate, I simply respond to her texts. In fact, if you scroll back up, you’ll see that it was a text from her that started all of this! Was I supposed to call her after she said she had nothing to say to my ears?! So I’m supposed to just call and start groveling pleading for forgiveness talking (about how wrong I was, because clearly it is I who was wrong and started this drama)? How was I supposed to know her heart was ready to listen so soon?!?!

She thought wrong about how she raised her kids too, apparently. First of all, she would’ve actually had to raise her own goddamn kids. As far as I’m concerned, I and my maternal grandparents did that. Also, see above. Anytime I  have tried to TALK to her when anything’s bothered me, be it about my nephew or anything else, she’s responded in one of the five ways above. You know what that’s taught me? You can’t talk to her. It is not worth my extremely precious time to try to talk to her.

It slays me that so many people commented on and liked all this drama on her page. I am seriously afraid for society that there are so many people who are that blatantly stupid walking this planet. At the very least, they can’t seem to realize that this crazy psycho who is dragging her own daughter through the mud all over Facebook just might not be mother of the year. With one quarter of her children dead, thanks in part to her, and half of her children (both my brother and I) barely talking to her (or at this point not talking to her at all, which in my brother’s case has been going on for a few months now), these people can’t see that she just might play a role in that?! Seriously? I’m at a complete loss then. I really am. People like that are just too stupid to live.

Though I’m angry and sad, I am also very relieved. My mother is finally out of my life. Hopefully for good. It's been a longtime coming. I can tell you that this will not be repaired for a good long time, if ever. She has a lot of apologizing to do before I’ll even consider speaking with her. In the meantime, I won’t miss the drama. I won’t miss what a fucking hypocrite she is. (The best example of this being her bragging all over Facebook and everywhere else about what a domestic violence advocate she is as a result of my youngest sister’s death. Yet she encourages, to the point of almost forcing, my whole family to accept my middle sister’s ex’s presence at family evens because he is still part of the family despite the fact that he tried to strangle my sister to death this past summer. He is, after all, the father of my sister’s children, and that totally takes precedence over attempted murder.) I will not miss HER.

I am finally free. I am at peace. I have plenty of love and support and people who know and appreciate just how amazing I am. 

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You're awesome if you made it through all that, lovely reader! What say you? Was I off base? Is six too old to be posting half naked pictures online? Why do you think so many people blindly and unquestioningly follow an obviously mentally unbalanced attention whore like my mom? Have you had Facebook drama lately that you would like to share?

N for Nothing To See Here

Since it’s been so long since I posted, I thought I’d just give some quick updates on what’s been going on in my life since my last post. I am not even going to try to explain my long absence. I hate making excuses, and everything I have to say will likely just sound “excusey.”

I have officially survived my first semester of social work school and am now just under a year away from graduation!!! The second term (or last half of the semester as semesters are broken out into two 8 week terms) was absolutely brutal. Mega huge and time consuming writing assignments and group presentations were the order of the term, which culminated in a lot of work and one exhausted Elle. I somehow managed to earn A’s in all of my classes, and I feel pretty damn good about that. I am proud to say that I also landed myself on the Dean’s List! Gotta love it when hard work pays off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Know what else I feel pretty good about? The major changes I’ve made over the past year. I’ve been kinda down on myself due to gaining a few pounds over the holidays. But when I really consider all that I’ve accomplished this year, I’m pretty amazed.

I’ve lost over 46 pounds and will hopefully reach 50 by my one year anniversary on Weight Watchers. That means I’ve been planning and packing 2-3 meals a day to take to work with me for almost a whole year now (breakfast and lunch most days, and dinner on school days). WOW! Though I seem to have hit a plateau in actual weight loss, I can see and feel the difference in my body, which helps to keep me motivated.

New Year’s Day marked one year of not smoking, and I’ve started running. In fact, MusicMan and I started 2012 off right by running a 5k (that’s 3.1 miles) on New Year’s Day. We might not have celebrated New Year’s Eve in grand style, in fact we didn’t even get to watch the ball drop because we had to be up early to get to the run, but we really felt as though we kicked the New Year off right. The aptly named Polar Dash was the third 5k I’ve run so far. Thanks to the cold and the hilly course, it was also the most difficult run I’ve completed to date. I made it through (just barely), finishing in 42 minutes and 53 seconds, and was so freakin’ proud of myself for persevering! I definitely earned the finisher’s medal I got at the end.

I cannot believe I’ve become a runner, but I have!! I looooooove the beginning and ends of races and runs—it’s true what they say about a runner’s high. However, I sometimes really hate the middle part. LOL. Running is hard! I find that sometimes I really have to push myself, and my asthma makes it even more difficult, but running intervals really helps. I currently do a ratio of running 30 seconds (which doesn’t seem like a lot until you’re doing it) and walking 60 seconds. My nifty Gymboss helps me time my intervals. I’m going to move to 30 second running and 45 second walking next week to see how it goes.

I have a goal to complete a 10k (6.2 miles) by the end of the year. Musicman and I are running a race sponsored by my company this Saturday (5k for me and 10k for him), are signed up to do a Valentine’s 5k in February, and will be signing up for a Lucky 7k (4.3 miles) in March. I find that, if I sign up for a race a month, it gives me a goal to work towards and keeps me running. I’m a proud slow runner. I’m not trying to be the fastest or to win any races. I run to improve my health and fitness. I run to run.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I am super excited for the year ahead. I’ll start my first internship in March. I’m pretty happy with the results of my application. There’s one really awesome domestic violence opportunity and a couple opportunities to work with homeless youth. You’re supposed to go out of your comfort zone for the first internship, because it gives you the opportunity to stretch both personally and professionally, so I was thinking of accepting anything but the domestic violence position. Then I realized that anything at this point is out of my comfort zone as I have virtually no experience working with clients in a helping capacity.

Now I really am leaning towards the domestic violence option, because I think it will be a good opportunity for me to find out if I truly do want to head down that path and am cut out to work with domestic violence victims, or if I’m just pursuing it because it seems like where I should go given my personal experiences.

I will also have the opportunity to reflect on why I want to work with domestic violence victims. Am I doing it just to save women like my sister, because I couldn’t save my sister? If so, I could be setting myself up for serious disappointment, frustration, and sadness.

OR

Am I doing it because I genuinely believe my personal experiences with domestic violence give me the unique ability to really relate with victims, which will allow me to potentially help changes the lives of many women?

It will also be a good opportunity to see if working with victims is traumatic for me in any way and, if so, to do the work to deal with that trauma or to find another population to serve. (I’m also interested in hospital/crisis social work and child protection at this point.)

That’s all for now. It looks like this semester is much more reading intensive, and almost all my classes have a journaling requirement that will perhaps fit very nicely with blogging, so I hope to be around more regularly.

S for Self-Care

Once again it would seem I’ve neglected the blog. Poor, poor blog. Good thing we have the relationship we do, you and I. You get me. You understand that, even when I’m busy, I don’t forget about you.

In order to ease gently into posting after such a long absence, I’m just going to give a quick recap of my first term (8 weeks) of social work school.

We learned about self-care. It was one of the most important things we learned. It’s absolutely essential in a profession like social work, which tends to involve work that is often thankless, frustrating, emotionally exhausting, and a myriad of other not exactly pleasant adjectives. It’s hard to believe I can’t wait to join the profession, isn’t it! ;-) I’ve worked on exercising good self-care by returning to knitting, which I absolutely love. I’ve probably over exercised self-care in that I’ve sometimes placed priority on knitting over homework. OOPS!!!

I’ve dabbled in running again. Musicman and I are signed up to do the Turkey Day 5k in Minneapolis on Thanksgiving morning. It remains to be seen whether I’ll walk or run it. I will likely do a combination of the two with more of the former and less of the latter. I just might not be cut out to be a runner in any way, shape, or form, but I’m not quite ready to give up completely. I've moved to interval training, which seems to be working pretty well. I'm currently doing 30 second runs with one minute walks. My goal is to increase the running and decrease the walking, but with my asthma, I just might need to remain at these intervals for a while and that's ok.

I need to keep doing whatever it is I’ve done this first 8 weeks, because I did veeeeeery well. My streak of A’s continues. 4.0 GPA, baby! I doubt this will last, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

I’ve developed some great friendships with members of my cohort and truly see some of these people turning into lifelong friends. Half the class went out for drinks on our last Thursday of the first 8 week term, and though I regretted the next day how late I’d stayed out, I was too ecstatic over having bonded with some of my classmates to care about how tired I was.

Every one of my four instructors has given high compliments on my writing, which just means the world to me. I’ve done a very good job of working on being concise, but I still have a ways to go. Of course, just when I got used to writing short papers, we’re assigned longer ones. I think I have three or four 10-15 page papers due by the end of this term. Fun stuff!

I do not like the advisor of the social work program, who also happens to be the instructor of the general practice class I’m currently taking. She sucks at communication. She provides no guidance and is often unclear in her expectations. (I know, I know…welcome to social work!)  Class time with her is all about what a great social worker she was (is?), and none of us feel as though we’ve really learned all that much.

Also, she’s supposed to be working out some credit transfer issues for me, which she assured me would be done by the end of the fall semester, but we’re now halfway through and there’s been no progress. Needless to say, I’ve lost trust in her and I don’t have much respect for her at this point. If the credit issue doesn’t get figured out soon, my ability to pay for the rest of the program (i.e. financial aid) could be in jeopardy. I am not pleased.

I had a really uncomfortable and difficult conversation with my boss about eventually moving to part-time at work. I explained that field practice starts in March and that I can’t do 25 hours a week in internship and 40 hours a week at work. The reality that I will be leaving here someday hit him hard. That reality also hit me a lot harder than I thought it would. I just celebrated 14 years with the company...I’ve basically grown up there; it’s really all I know. It’s hard to believe that I will be leaving within the next couple years.

I’m hoping BossMan decides he wants to work with me on this, and thus will keep me around on a part-time basis. I made it clear that, if this wasn’t possible, the only alternative was for me to leave. Now I wait…not only to find out what his decision will be but also to find out where I’ll go for my first field placement and all that’s involved with that.

I’m scared. I have had a job and my own source of income since I was 13, so the prospect of being jobless and having no income makes me almost physically ill. However, I have to do what’s best for me. I am fortunate to have the love and support of my amazing husband and am trying not to worry too much. Things will work out. It might not all go exactly as I’ve planned, but I’ll find a way to make it all work. There’s an exciting journey ahead; that’s for sure!

C for Cohort

Hello, lovely reader! I’ve written before about the importance of a support system for adult students (and, really, any student for that matter). Much of what I wrote there still stands. In fact, the further I’ve gotten along in school, the more I realize just how necessary a good support system truly is. Sadly, I seem to have lost quite a bit of that support along the way as friends and family members seemingly all decided I’m entirely too busy to be bothered with (which is what they tell themselves, I’m sure, to feel better), but more accurately to bother with.

It seems everyone just thinks, “Elle’s too busy with school” without actually asking me if that’s the case. It’s frustrating. And while, yes, there have been quite a few times that I’ve said no to invitations, I don’t think it justifies writing me off forever. It’s frustrating, and frankly, hurts a little bit; especially when I consider how much support I’ve provided to individuals I suddenly find have abandoned me. I mean, really, how hard is it to send the occasional “How are you?” email or text?!

On the other hand, I truly don’t have a lot of free time. And while I feel badly about that, I also feel as though I’ve tried to prepare people’s expectations, and I’d hope that truly supportive friends and family members would understand that I’m never too busy for a quick chat here or there or a few emails or texts back and forth. I’m thankful for the few who do understand that.

I guess, despite my best attempts at explanations, a lot of people don’t understand just how much work it is to be an adult student who works full time and has a family of her own. I never thought it would be such a lonely and isolating experience. I am, fortunately, now involved with a group of people who do understand and can relate: My cohort—errrrm—learning community.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but the social work program I’m in is setup as a cohort model, which means we progress through the program together as a group. Unlike community college, where I had a new set of classmates for each class, I’ll be with the same group the whole way through social work school. I’ve only been in a school for a few weeks now, but I can already tell that the learning community concept can be both good and bad. I think it will be mostly good though.

I can definitely see the potential for lifelong friendships to form based on the fact that we’re all in the trenches together. Who better to provide support and lend an ear than those who are actually in the same position as you are? And, of course, it’s advantageous for a social worker to remain connected to other social workers for educational and networking purposes, and we all have that network built for us already. It’s just up to us to maintain it beyond school.

We’ve really lucked out, because there are three men in our learning community, which means both the female and male perspectives are represented. This is unusual, since it seems men don’t often choose social work as a profession. Our program coordinator told us it’s been a while since they’ve had a cohort, or learning community, that has included even one man. So, it’s pretty great that we get that male perspective. I, for one, am grateful for it.

So far I find my learning community, which is comprised of about sixteen students, to be a fascinating mix of individuals. Introductions have been interesting, and I’ve already learned a lot from, and shared a lot with, my classmates. We bring varied life experiences, ideals, and goals to the table, which provides for lively and interesting conversation and is a great opportunity to hear thoughts and perspectives different from my own. I already feel a sense of camaraderie with the group—there’s a good vibe—and I only hope that continues to grow.

Of course, the learning community model is not without its problems. You know how we all have those types we just don’t mesh with? (Be honest, lovely reader…if there’s anything I’ve learned from blogging and life in general it’s that none of us exists in a vacuum. Meaning, even when I think no one gets it or I’m the only one who feels something, I’m usually not.) Well, there’s a classmate or two I don’t see myself ever really meshing well with. That doesn’t mean there’s anything particularly wrong with these individuals, of course. It just means that, for one reason or another, they rub me the wrong way.

Now, combine the minor annoyance caused by those individuals you don’t really see eye to eye with, the fact that you’ve had a looooooooooong (and maybe wee bit stressful) day at work and want nothing more than to go home and curl up on the couch with a fun book or mindless movie, and you’re tired but facing four hours of class, and you’ve kinda got a recipe for disaster. Well, maybe not disaster per se. That might be a little dramatic. But, definitely, a bit of unpleasantness. But this is life. You take the bad with the good.

Right now, I’m choosing to see this one downfall as an opportunity to learn how to work with those people who just aren’t on the same page, or even in the same book, as me. I have to deal with it a little bit already in the working world, so it's really no different I suppose. Yay for learning character building opportunities!

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Give me your thoughts, lovely reader. How do you deal with those you don't exactly see eye to eye with or whose personalities perhaps just rub you the wrong way?

V for Verbose (B for Bad)

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you already know that I tend to err on the side of being verbose. I like words. A lot! And, I like using words to paint very detailed, very vivid pictures. I try to be concise and to contain my thoughts. But once I start writing, my mind speeds off into a thousand directions, and my fingers fly along the keyboard as I try to keep up with my thoughts. It has become apparent that this is a quality that will not exactly benefit me in social work school.

Of the two papers I’ve received back so far, the only “negative” feedback I’ve gotten is basically that my papers need to be shorter. The assignments have been to write three page papers (typed, double spaced, which really isn’t that much when you think about it), and the papers I’ve submitted have been 4-6 pages in length. I’ve officially been confronted with my first real challenge so far in social work school, and it is not at all what I expected it would be!

You see, when I wrote papers in community college, the instructors usually set the page limits as a minimum. It was implied that one should feel more than welcome to go beyond that, if need be, and I almost always did. Heck! For the sociology assignment I did this past summer, I was to write 10 two page papers, and even though I didn't want to write those papers, each of those turned out to be in the 3-6 page range. Clearly, I don’t have a problem expressing myself. However I apparently do have a problem doing it in a succinct manner. This is obviously something I’ll need to work on.

If I’m being honest, it hurts my soul just a little bit. I feel stifled and constricted, as though wrapped in a turtleneck three sizes too small but with an extra long neck that goes up over my head. I honestly nearly cried last night when I read the instructor’s note on the last page of my paper: “The only feedback I really have is pay attention to page length.” That paper was only four pages. I only went over by one, and really it wasn't even a whole page (more like a paragraph, really)!

I just can’t get this to make sense, especially considering that these papers are to be reflective in nature. Last week, I had to read three chapters for this particular class and then write a reflective paper on what I learned. So, what you’re telling me is, out of over 100 pages of reading, I’m supposed to grab on to just one idea (maybe two ideas) and write a very quick, only surface level reflection? Well, what’s the point of that?! If I’m reflecting, I’m baring my entire soul. I have nothing to hide. Also, some of the stuff we're reading is so interesting and inspiring that it's hard not to find half a dozen to a dozen passages that really resonate with you.

I guess I’ll have to learn to rein it in a bit and to reflect a little less. This week’s Learning Moment paper assignment clearly states at the top: “This should not be more than 2 pages long.” But…(lip quivering)…but…(small tear)…BUT there are three questions to answer! Annnnnnd the first one has three parts to it. I die!!

I suppose this isn’t all bad. (That’s called reframing.) My soul won’t be completely asphyxiated. I still have this blog, and I still have you, lovely reader. It has now become more a priority for me than ever to blog on a regular basis. I need this outlet. In fact, I already have two or three post ideas I've jotted down in the past week alone. I look forward to interacting with you more as I share with you on a more regular basis.

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What say you, lovely reader? Do you have any advice on how I can be more concise?