Ten-Finger Exercises

I feel a whine coming on

I don't know why, but I feel a whine coming on. However, I'm going to try to reframe it, because I don't like myself when I feel like a victim. If I'm in any way a victim, it's a victim of my own making, helplessness that I ought to be able to fight my way out of like a paper bag.

The phrase, "See how you are?" has popped into my head several times this week. I need a new vision of how I am, how I could be. An epiphany would be just fine, and it's the right season for it.

I keep thinking that when the repair man comes and I have a workable laundry again, things will be better. But will they? Last week I thought that when I'd given my talk on hospice, I'd feel better and be able to tackle some other things. Then the windstorm came up and left me some very other things to tackle, but still I didn't feel good about it.

Today I helped lead a grief group for children, the first we've tried. I like the co-leader, the leader, really. He has lots of experience with children's groups, and my experience, other than with teens or family, goes back to Cub Scouts and Brownies-- a very long time ago.

I haven't been dreading it, not anything like that, so it's not quite like the hurdles I often find in my weeks. Like, oh, when I can finally get appointments to see the folks in the town sixty miles away, I can breathe easier. Or the woman who wants to tube feed her husband and tells me, for no reason as far as I know, that I ought to buy a copy of the Catholic catechism and listen to Catholic radio if I want to help her. I don't know how she'll let me help her then, and suspect she won't ever, but it's another mental bump in my road.

Sometimes those bumps in the road have a salvific effect, that is, I find the dreaded task to be a source of joy and accomplishment when I've gotten into it. Not this time. It went okay, was sort of fun, sort of frustrating.

What I need is something to feel good about. Not just passable, but good. Enthusiastic. Spirited. Challenged. And appreciated for it would be good too.

A counselor came to hospice yesterday to talk to the group about compassion fatigue. I didn't think I had it, because I don't feel very compassionate, at least not that hooked kind of teary identification with people going through their difficulties. I don't get very attached. Then, as I thought about it, I thought about how that may be a symptom in itself. I have a couple of patients now that I will miss and will feel real grief about, but, in a way, I haven't gotten close to them emotionally. Self-protection, or a symptom of burn-out, or both?

One of the things that came out in our discussion was expectations. I have very low expectations of myself at this time, and that isn't good. It isn't good to have them too high to reach either, but so low they won't trip you up isn't high enough to feel like you've accomplished anything.

I'm just babbling. Now, to work on some goals, that's what I need to be doing. I'll give it a try. Wish me well.