The Changeling

Okay, I'm not big into the whole New Year's Resolution thing, I've always figured you don't need a calendar to dictate when and how you make decisions and this year isn't really different. I guess it's just a matter of convenient timing that this year, with all of the holiday chaos over, I've had some extra time to stop and really reflect on some things and, apparently, even sit down and write about some of them.

Now that we're a little over one week into the new year, I've decided that 2010 was a year of transitions for me. Without going too deep into it, the past year and a half has been pretty hard for me. The summer of 2008, I moved 600 miles away to live in a new city with eight strangers and work full-time as a volunteer in a teens' homeless shelter. As strange as it sounds, that program was the best year of my life. After working in entertainment for 12 years, I found something that gave me a sense of purpose, something that gave meaning to everything else that had come before. I was spending my time actually accomplishing something and making a tangible difference- however small- in real peoples' lives. It was the first time I really felt at home. It was the first time I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. After a year, in July of 2009, that volunteer program ended way before I was ready, and before I knew it, I was moving back to everything I'd always known and nothing I'd ever really enjoyed. It was a traumatic move for me and I spent the last five months of that year nearly catatonic.

I didn't really start growing into my new life until January 2010 when I finally started working in theatre again. I had something to do with my time and people to spend it with. I spent the rest of the year building those relationships and finally starting to meet new people and accept my new life. See, up until then, I'd been in denial. I wanted my volunteer life back and didn't know how to move on into the next chapter of my life. Almost exactly a year ago, I finally started transitioning out of my old life into a new one. I can't believe how long a year it's been, but I feel like I've come a long way and really learned some long-needed life lessons.

-I've learned how to appreciate the people who love me for who I am and not sweat the people who don't.
-I learned how to communicate more honestly and be more open with my friends.
-I've learned that it's not the end of the world if I embarrass myself in front of people. Even in front of him (whoever "he" may be at the time).
-I've learned that real friendships will withstand, and even be strengthened by, the worst of circumstances if both sides are willing.
-I've finally learned that silly baseball metaphor and that several of my male acquaintances probably got the wrong idea when I suggested we hang out and get a few drinks.
-I've learned to take risks again.

Overall, I think I've learned how to like and appreciate myself again, which makes everything else fall into place SO much easier!

I learned how to be happy again

I got a part-time job that I actually like, which really helps. I'm back working in a kids' shelter and doing work that makes me feel like I'm spending my time doing something real again.

I still don't believe in that magic "reset" button at midnight on New Year's Eve, but I'm hopeful this year that I am finally in a place where I can start putting all the drama and heartache of 2010 behind me and finally start moving forward in 2011. And 2012. And 2013...

Hey, I even got to go to start it off with my first
 New Year's Eve party in 11 years!

A Day in the Life

The frustrations of working with people are hard to handle at times. Working with people who are commonly ignored or neglected brings a whole other set of issues to the table. I've been very lucky in the past to do some of this very taxing but oh-so-rewarding work amidst an amazing community. My co-workers in a previous position were amazing resources for fresh ideas and support. My community at home was just as wonderful. My seven (yes seven) roommates and I knew that we were there for each other to vent our frustrations, share our victories, and even just be a shoulder to lean- or cry- on when the burden of everyone else's problems got a little too heavy. It was the ideal place to start out it social work, if not just a little misleading. Now I am in a situation where I am, in a lot of ways, completely alone.

In my current position, I am the only staff member on site. For about the last half-hour of the day, I am the only adult on the property period. Aside from this being a total liability and logistical nightmare, the more immediate consequence for me is that on the job, I am on my own. I have nowhere to turn for backup or support and very little recourse when things aren't going smoothly. In a room with fifteen to twenty kids at a time, it's a rare occasion that everyone is happy. It's more likely that there is a small group doing what they're supposed to be, another group pretending they're doing what they're supposed to do while they gossip full volume about other kids at school, at least a couple boys picking on each other or on one of the girls, and there is constantly someone climbing on a table or standing on a chair. It's my job to tame these wild creatures and get them to learn and have fun- usually with one of them glued to my hip whining about how she doesn't want to do ANY of the activities she has to choose from.

Ideally, there might be another adult around who could referee an argument while I pull the six year old off of the bookshelf or sit down and explain why, no, we don't "just hit them back." But it's just me. So I have to prioritize. Do I answer the math questions, or have a serious conversation about the bullies at school? Do I address the boy who is calling the other kids names or the girl squealing at the top of her lungs? If I go get ice for the girl who fell on the floor chasing another girl around the room, I won't have a chance to stop the girl who is throwing crayons at her sister from across the room. If I choose to go get the boys hiding under the couch cushions in the library, I won't be able to intercept the girl rummaging through my desk looking for the markers she's not allowed to use because as soon as I leave the room, a fight will break out over a stolen pencil. Then I will have to break that up and by then it's snack time and everyone wants to know why I'm not feeding them.

Okay, so I'm treading water for three hours without any adult interaction. I can handle that. Once I go home- usually late because I have to catch up on paperwork that I didn't have time to do while chasing kids around- I'm exhausted. I haven't accomplished anything, and am so frustrated with the day that I'm completely unmotivated to even keep trying. Normally, in previous positions, I had other people to go to. I could commiserate with coworkers or debrief and relax with my roommates just to get the frustration off my chest and off my mind so I could once again see the precious children inside of those little hell raisers. Now, however, I don't exactly have that.

It's hard to explain the pressures and stresses of social service to someone who hasn't experienced them first hand. So, even when I have people who want to hear about what's going on, it just sounds like general bitching and moaning. I don't want to be that girl that can only complain, so I try not to. This is the kind of job that is easy to take home and requires an outlet to avoid burnout. My roommates and I all worked in social services and all generally understood what we were each up against. We had each others' backs during the week and knew how to help each other relax and let go on the weekends. This time around, I knew I wasn't going to have that support and I thought I was ready for it going in. I was not mentally prepared for how much harder it would be, though. Combine being alone at work, struggling to do a job where I can't possibly succeed with having no good way to let it go at the end of the day and by Friday, I get off work already anxious about going back on Monday.

I got a jury duty summons the other day and was actually excited that it meant I didn't have to work that day.

I guess if I had a more exciting job, people would want to hear more about it and it would be a little easier to unwind after work. Or if I worked with ANYONE. It's not all bad, I have some great moments with my kids too, but just like any other situation, no one really wants to hear that much about someone else's kids. That's not to say that no one is willing to listen. While they are few and far between, there are some people in my life who honestly take an interest in what I'm doing, or at least try to be there for me when I need it. There are even a few who are able to sit and talk with me at length and help me keep things in perspective. I can't thank those people enough, but the longer this goes on, the more frustrated I get. The more frustrated I get with my job, the more frustrated I get with myself and with people in general. I don't want to be one of those people who is always negative. As a result, I'm getting more and more antisocial by the day. It's getting to be a pretty dizzying cycle.

So I'm in a bit of a quandary. Is this really a job I can keep doing? If it keeps wearing me out, and I keep getting worse, am I really doing anyone any good? Do I just keep trudging through with the expectation that I will someday get a handle on it and my anxiety will eventually level out allowing me to actually help one of these kids? Or do I just cut my losses and find a cushy desk job where I can play on facebook all day? Sorry, no answers today. Just questions.

Snow Day!

The other day at work... Okay, I should probably pause and explain a little bit about my job before I get into this story. I work for a national non-profit running an after school program for kids. From 3:00-6:00 every Monday through Friday, I oversee educational and arts and crafts activities in a makeshift classroom in the back room of the leasing office of a lower-income apartment community. I normally love working with children, but with most of my experience being with older kids and teens, being the only adult in a room packed with 5-12 year olds has been a bit more... challenging?... than I initially expected. So I'm constantly looking for new ways to keep their attention and have fun with such a wide age range while still working in some of the curriculum I'm supposed to cover each day. Which brings me back to the other day, the beginning of December when I'm supposed to be shifting from Fall to Winter activities and decorations. Okay, un-pause.

The other day at work I realized that the floor was in serious need of mopping and I got an idea. When I went out that night to go get Christmas decorations, I picked up a few cans of shaving cream at the dollar store. The next day I wrote "Snow Day" on the board and got all our activities ready. We started with homework time, then moved on to playing hang-snow-man with our new December spelling words. While I drew more and more accessories to keep from lynching Frosty on my dry erase board, the kids played along while cutting out paper snow flakes and decorating construction paper snowmen to hang on the walls in place of their hand-print turkeys. Everyone was having a great time for once, including me! When the vocabulary words got old, we moved on to our last activity of the day. It took FOREVER but we got the little paper triangles cleaned up from the snowflakes, put the crayons away, and folded up the tables. Then I split them up into groups and told them whichever team could make the biggest shaving cream snowman on the floor would be the winner. They didn't get it until I sprayed a little bit out on the floor, then they got really excited.




It went along really well for the most part. Each group had a different method: some tried building really tall snowmen, some tried drawing with the cans and them filling it in, some just sprayed it all out and smeared it around with their hands. They were having a great time and I was too.

Then they discovered they could have a shaving cream fight.

The older kids started it and when I didn't squelch it quick enough, the younger kids caught on. Within a matter of minutes they had abandoned their snowmen and launched an all out attack. Most of them were happy throwing handfuls of the soapy fluff at each other or just smearing it on whoever was closest. Several figured out they could fill up both hands and clap to make it "snow." One girl even tried making snow angels once enough had accumulated on the floor.

About the time everyone had started calming down, I looked at a group of girls with shaving cream from head to toe, smiled, and said, "I'm really surprised you didn't get any on me." They looked at me confused for a split second and then I could see the light bulbs go on over all their heads at once. I got waylaid. For a few seconds all I could see was tiny hands filled with all the shaving cream they had left at their disposal. I came away with my hair and T-shirt completely covered and was only disappointed I couldn't take a picture of myself without getting shaving cream all over my camera. Unfortunately, it was just a few minutes later that one of my overprotective moms showed up early to pick up her daughter. When I first saw her, I reverted back a few years.

She.

Was.

Pissed.

And for an instant I felt like just another one of the kids, caught having fun doing something wrong. I smoothed my hair back down (still covered in soapy foam), walked over to her, and said, "I'm sorry. They were drawing snowmen on the floor and it got a little out of hand." She didn't respond. She wouldn't even look at me. I got her daughter cleaned up and she took her home without a single word. I started getting the other kids cleaned up and my other overprotective mom showed up for her two girls and that "conversation" went pretty much the same way. Now, I don't use this phrase often, but these are two grown-ass women getting all puffy because their kids got soapy. (It's kind of self-cleaning, you know) At this point we're running a little late I'm starting to freak out that this was a really bad idea and everyone is going to be pissed. I finished getting the rest of the kids presentable and sent them home then called my boss to warn her that she may be getting phone calls and apologize for my bad idea. It took her a minute to figure out why these moms were upset and then she reminded me, "they're kids" and said she'd handle any phone calls that came in.

Oh yeah! Fun, that's why I'm here! I felt a little better, but was still kind of freaking out while I cleaned up the room (for an hour and a half- I was cleaning shaving cream off of the ceiling!) and when I went to meet a friend for dinner. I gave her the short version of the story and showed her the pictures I'd taken. She thought it was a terrific idea and told me about a similar experience she'd had in elementary school playing with shaving cream in class. She said it was one of her favorite memories from elementary school and I remembered again, fun. These kids had fun today. And I did too. When I saw how great of an experience my friend had had that she still remembered it so vividly at age "26," I started thinking maybe it was worth it if my kids enjoyed themselves that much too. I don't even like my job some days, so if I get in trouble or even fired, at least I got to give something to them along the way. I owe this girl a lot for helping me see that.

Cut and Wry

"Once bitten, twice shy" supposedly means that when a person has been burned, they will be more careful to avoid it happening again. I, however, am not necessarily one to always learn from my mistakes. I tend to respond more with dry mockery and jaded sarcasm than with a fresh start and new, acquired wisdom. So that's what I bring you here at ...Twice Wry: a look at missteps, mishaps, misadventures, and other misguided miscellany from a completely honest and hopefully humorous perspective. And, okay, maybe a little acquired wisdom along the way.