Category Archives: Emotions

Grieving: My Concept of a Job

Things have been quiet here. One reason is that I’m working on a website for my writing. A second reason is that I’ve had nothing positive or useful to say about work, redefinition or my learning.

 

Marty McConnell once said:

 “I don’t own
enough rage for it all — I am
ninety-five miles per hour on I-81, sprinting
to track the tirade vibrating
on the next stage

is Anybody Listening?

I live
in search of a cause worth dying for”

Quoted from “Give me one good reason to die”.

~

I’ve realised I do own enough rage for it all. And sadness. And grief.

I grieve for the injustices of others. I grieve for the childhood, the university courses, the beliefs I had to teach myself in 2007 when I realised my father’s view of the world poisons everything he touches. I grieve for the promises I was always given about a career.

And I’m grieving for the processes I was assured about in my interview. I asked how they run supervisions, and I was answered by ALL THREE panel members; each with their different responses but all agreeing that it’s of the upmost importance and that as a new member of staff I’d get more.

I’ve had 2.5 supervisions in 4.5 months. I requested one two weeks ago, and got no reply. Today I asked again, and I was offered one in four weeks time. Three weeks and 6 days I guess, that’s as good as four weeks. Despite me crying at work last week and this week. Despite me being given a case load equal to other members which I shouldn’t have until my 6 month “beginner” period is up.

 

Things are shifting, things are changing and I recognise we’re all in this whirlwind – uncertain and insecure… But I am grieving for the beliefs I once held, for the lies I was told and for the loss of everything stable in my life. I’ve left my house, my friends, my partner to come here and do this job.

And despite being told by colleagues at my level that I can talk to them, I’m feeling about as small as I possibly could. I’m told to call their personal numbers after hours, and that I should take this issue to X person.  Then X person says it can wait three days.

So here I am, waiting for the days to pass, trying to go through the motions and wondering if anyone is going to notice my crying at my desk.

Because no one did this morning.

Learning on the Job

march13 010Two months have passed. I’m finally on the new IT system, with a work laptop for hot-desking, and I’m due to get access to the database social workers use.

In the last month, I’ve had to deal with a lot of challenging and overwhelming situations, which I term as “blips” when I cannot cope with them. When I cry during the drive home, I’m clearly not in a space to adequately handle my emotions – making the commute dangerous. When I have to retreat to the bathroom because I’m so close to shouting and swearing and enraged, I’m aware that I’ve neglected my work duties in order to maintain my mental health.

I don’t see these blips as punishable actions, but as a less-than-desirable experience, that I put down to my new-ness.

 

Communication

When talking to my colleagues about these blips, I’m constantly told that it’s “not a blip, it’s just all new” or “it sounds like you did everything perfectly. You’ve clearly got the potential for this.”

It’s definitely a comfort that the issues I’m experiencing are things felt by the rest of the team in their own ways.

Last Wednesday, I spoke to the senior practitioner, and she asked what I needed to make the Tuesday course run smoother.

Having spent five hours looking after children who haven’t got boundaries or understanding of “no”, we then sit in a room and talk about the parent’s progress for what has lasted a further four and a half hours.

This second discussion is very emotional, and requires everyone’s input and views on each parent. I find out about their back-story, what the children I’m watching must have experienced; and without a break (we eat lunch with the families) it turns out I just cannot process all of my own thoughts and emotions.

After both of the Tuesday sessions we’ve run, I’ve had to leave early, cried while driving home, and texted my partner to come online early. Neither Tuesday could I eat dinner.

 

Managing Stress

In both cases, on the Wednesday morning, I’ve been able to talk to a colleague about it. But for that Tuesday night, I feel like a complete failure at my job. A week in, crying is allowed. The true realities of the job hit home. Two and a half months, though…

It doesn’t sit well that the crying hasn’t even decreased a little.

But I have my laptop now, so the senior practitioner talked about me writing my thoughts down quietly in the corner and she even suggested I completely disengage and switch off from listening until I’m ready to process the new information. I was glad to find out she agreed with my concerns – that the sessions aren’t structured and there’s no proper time-keeping.

And whenever I bring up a concern that I’m not handling things as I wish I were; I’m told that I’m doing everything right, that I’ve done so well to enter the team at this time, and that they’ve not felt this busy and struggled this much in years.

 

Creating Gaps

All I can do is take each day as it comes.

Today I know I’ll have to ask that child to pick up the toys about five hundred times. I know those two babies will cry and set each other off.

And I know that I need to take my laptop into the meeting following. I know that I need to go to the loo and grab my belongings before I sit down.

I’m learning that I need to create a break for myself; that I need a time to process when no one else provides a gap.

– Rose –

The Disappearance of Personality

GKKaty

I’ve spoken before about my grandfather, and his Alzheimer’s Disease, but as with all stories, changes and new instalments occur.

Last I wrote, they were taking him off the Aricept. That was less than two months ago.

 

~

 

Last weekend, my parents saw him. He seemed well in general, until he asked after me, when he insisted he’d never been told that I have a partner.

He has met my other half several times over the last 6 years – but according to his brain, he had never heard of this, and asked what he’s like, and whether we would marry.

I wondered if he had forgotten my O.H because that little pathway is inaccessible.

But the fact that I’m with someone, might have stuck.

It seems not only has he forgotten the most important person in my life, but he’s forgetting more of me every day.

I cannot explain away that sadness.

 

My heart broke when I realised he will never know my future. Even if he lives long enough, he’ll never know my marriage, my children. And they would never know him.

Because he’s not just losing his memories of his family.

He’s losing himself.

 

~

 

I’ve talked before about my wish to be a scholar, and how in this topic I just can’t bring myself to understand the science of the disease.

Nevertheless, I told my mum he might have just had a bad day – that loss isn’t linear in this disease. That the protein build up on his neurons shifts every day, and that only specific neurons will have been affected.

 

But he used to have such a sense of honour, of loyalty; such a love and respect for education, and he used to get everyone out of their chairs to go for a walk, or play tennis, or croquet.

Hell, we played croquet less than six months ago, at his request!

 
It seems the man my mother had to sit beside knows none of those things. 

 

 

~

 

From my understanding, he’s not supposed to lose his core identity only a year or two into a disease described as “early stages, slow moving”. Not two months after he’s been taken off the medication that only halted it for six months in the first place.

 

The loss of new events, the inability to find the right words to explain things and the personality differences don’t occur in stage 1.

 

~

 

Which means he’s shifted in stage 2 of a 3 stage process.

And the small child inside who remembers him bouncing me on his knee has realised:

 I’ll never get him back.

Panic Hiding Behind Overwhelm

newyear13 001It’s the third week of January. I have so much I want to talk about, but it’s all whirring around in my mind as an incoherent mess.

 

I want to impart my findings about my misconceptions of work, and of the transitional difficulties in moving to a new place, new car, new job… I want to talk about my mini-epiphany relating to working and money-making, but all I can think about is how I ended up crying in my manager’s office.

 

The Trigger

Last week was a bit of a failure in terms of the job – I observed two sessions on Monday afternoon. It seemed a bit boring and I felt that it was a waste of time for one session, but made sense in the second. The lady who sat beside me, explaining things as they happened, often made comments like “oh I wish I could just tell her what I think” or “but if she knew X she’d get it.”

 

But this was X session, so only X tools could be used.

 

I had been told that day that I should go on the training so that I could run those sessions once a week. Everyone else in the team had done the training (and I think it’s a useful tool for general life, just didn’t like how “pure” the sessions had to be).

 

The Signs

Monday night, I cried while driving home, feeling overwhelmed.

Tuesday morning, a colleague asked how I found the session, and I burst into tears in the middle of the office; in front of five colleagues. By Friday morning, when I had supervision with my manager, I had spoken to every colleague about how much I didn’t want to do those Monday sessions.

 

I sat in my manager’s office and asked to add this topic to the agenda. She asked how I was, said she was happy with my work so far and that I seem to have found my place in the team. She mentioned how people saw me as competent already (this is whole new field of work for me, so I’m not competent at the specific tasks yet) which is a nice thing to know.

 

And then I cried.

 

We talked through my overwhelm: she said it was normal and that it’s fine. We discussed my week, my caseload and I said I’d gone to the rest of the team for support when I began feeling panicked.

 

And then we discussed trainings in mental health, neglect, equality and diversity and so on… She asked how I found being away from home. It was all calm again.

 

Then we got to the sessions, and I just babbled. She sat back in her chair and let me talk, crying again.

She asked which bits I was unhappy about, and I felt ridiculous – saying I hated the idea of knowing saying Z would help but because this is X session, I wouldn’t be allowed to mention it.

 

In my head, it came out as: “What kind of prick holds back something they know will help someone?”

 

I Couldn’t.

 

The Aftermath

She suggested I not do the training, though I had already booked onto it (as requested on Monday), and sent an email to the woman in charge.

 

I felt instantly better, and then dreaded seeing my colleagues who had all done the training.

 

Why was I not to do it?

What makes me so special that I can choose not to do this training and provide this service; especially if my problem isn’t even with the approach?

 

I like the idea of this tool. I just hated the idea of having to keep it pure; but surely pure X is better than nothing?

 

I felt torn: not wanting to do it, but not wanting to write it off on one observation.

I dreaded seeing the lady who sat beside me, explaining it all.

Because my explanation doesn’t really make sense (not even to me).

 

~

 

In the end, I had to trust my body and my emotions.

I lost 4 nights of sleep, cried 5 times, thought about it constantly for 4 days, and I still wasn’t happy. I wrote a reflective piece about it on Tuesday, and again Friday.

 

After all that, I was still so upset I cried about it and felt panicked.

So I have to honour that reaction, and trust that the team won’t think any less of me.

 

Hiding Behind Overwhelm

If anything, the team have been so supportive they’ve said “You mustn’t go home feeling that bad; call me at home. My mobile’s on – I don’t care if it’s a weekend, don’t be alone with that unresolved stuff.”

 

I had blamed the tears and sleeplessness on overwhelm, but removing that one pressure made the rest instantly feel manageable.

 

I’d labelled this emotion “overwhelm”, and it was to some degree… but it was overwhelm of one training; one commitment to a Monday afternoon a fornight.

 

And because it doesn’t make sense to me – I didn’t hate observing the sessions at the time – I didn’t delve any deeper into those feelings. I missed the massive cues my body was giving me.

 

~

 

So I spent this weekend reading up on that tool; so I have a basic outline in my head. It’s a really useful tool for general work, which is why it doesn’t make sense to me why I suddenly felt so aversive to it.

 

But I need to trust my body, and know that I can always do the training next year.

 

– Rose –

Dealing with Transitions: January

flat 009It’s the 8th of January. I’ve officially spent 17 days in this flat.

I’ve had 10 days at my new job.

I’ve had my car 9 weeks, and driven 1000 miles.

 

The first week of 2013 has been a stressful one.

 

Reflecting on Living Alone

It’s been interesting, living on my own. I feel relatively safe here, and I’ve really got the hang of parking in my allocated space.

 

I’ve been here nearly a month, and all the payments are due – bills, rent, council tax and so on. On top of the newness of my job, my first paycheck was partial and the tax code incorrect, so even though I should be able to plan my new year and to enjoy the fruits of my work, I’m anxious about money and unsure how to bridge this gap.

 

 

The Job

Having never done a day of 9-5, I’ve found it difficult to adjust. On top of that, I actually leave the house at 7:40am and get home at 6pm. The idea of cooking, learning and even sitting upright to game or read a book just doesn’t really arise.

 

I’m enjoying the work, and I’m actually stupidly excited to be running courses again. Yet, I’m reading family files and hearing about cases of child abuse, neglect, and domestic violence. Yesterday I sat in observation and listened a family argue. Driving home, I had to really focus on not crying; as I struggle to see while night-driving as it is, without tears blurring my way.

 

Also, though I love planning and to-do lists and even enjoying typing up files for other colleagues, the fact that I have planned 3 days a week from now until June has blown me away. I’m beginning to struggle to keep my head afloat.

 

Driving

Driving to work in the morning and even parking are do-able for me now. I’ve found a nice route to and from my two main places of work, and I actually enjoy the morning drive.

 

However, instead of driving 8 miles a day, as I’d planned; I’m spending 4 days a week in another town, 20 miles away. Then I drive to various centres and offices throughout the day. This means instead of filling up petrol once a month and only commuting for 25 minutes a day, I’m doing close to 50 miles a day, and my commute home lasts 45-60 minutes, in the pitch dark.

 

I didn’t know how much I would hate driving home at night until I went to drive home on my first day.

It’s my idea of Hell.

 

Supporting Myself

The tiredness, the loss of sleep in the mornings (waking an hour earlier), the late arrival home and the general emotional content of the day exhaust me. Last night, following an emotional day actually seeing families in a room arguing and hearing kids fighting; then to drive home in the dark, absolutely terrified of crashing and scared of the dark in general, I turned again to my new supportive system – panic speak:

 

“You can cry when you get home, it’s okay to be scared, you’re going to be fine. You’ve driven this way home in the dark four or five times now; you can do this, you’re allowed to cry when you get home.”

 

And so the 45 minute drive home, as with every weekday so far, is full of blaring music, hands gripping the wheel so tightly my arms ache, prayers to any higher power who will listen and eyes firmly unblinking so tears don’t fall.

 

Recognising it’s all Temporary

I’m excited about the work, I like having space for myself, and the morning drive is so enjoyable. Yet each night I’m having to talk to myself in panicked slurs, desperate not to have a panic attack nor burst into tears.

 

And I’m struggling to keep my head afloat, aware that this is a temporary shift – and that in a few months time I’ll be doing it all without a second thought. But at 5:30pm tonight, I won’t be able to remind myself of that. I’ll be too busy fearing for my life and allowing myself to cry.

And I’m trying to remember that that’s okay.

 

– Rose –

Feeling Supported During Change

Last week, I was officially given a start date for my new job. I headed onto the internet to request flat viewings, and was grateful I could email rather than ring.

I’m officially going to view some this weekend, which means this abstract idea of having to be an adult is actually coming true.

And the anxiety crept in.

 

 

A conversation about it on Twitter essentially went like this (hope they won’t mind me paraphrasing) :

Them: “You’re afraid? I guess that’s fair. Once you get over your fear, you’ll find out how empowering it is.”

Me: “I know it’s empowering – I want to be out of this house, and to have the freedom to be my own person again. But it still scares me – I have so many fears from spiders and dirt to murderers and silence.”

Them: “Wow, and you’re a neuroscientist! I suggest you secure the entrances and exits.”

 

 

Living in a World of Fear

I don’t feel bad about these fears, because my awareness of them means I can prepare for those feelings. I can input systems that will support me.

Through awareness of the things that will cause me to be less-than-happy, I can shift things to make myself more comfortable.

- I’m looking at getting LED lights (minimal energy, rechargeable batteries to save cost/the planet) so that I never need to be in the dark if I don’t want to.

- I’m only looking at non-ground floor or non-maisonette flats, as I fear people breaking in through doors and windows. A burglar is less likely to break into my room 3 floors up having coming through the internal hallways full of CCTV cameras, and then pick my door of all the identical doors.

- I’m deliberately not watching shows like Merlin and The Vampire Diaries so that in that first week or so of adjustment, I can stay in and watch things that will create light and noise (TV): The likelihood of a vampire or a guard of Camelot with a sword breaking into my room is so much less than any crime show.

- I’m even choosing furniture comprised of a wooden frame and cloth cover – so that if I do get that old feeling of “monsters-under-the-bed” or even severe-OCD-type symptoms* again, I can lift the cloth up and see everything, clean and safe.

- As my CD player has broken, I’m taking my TV which I can plug a USB stick into, to play music while I sleep (it has an auto-turn-off function after X hours). This won’t use much energy(or money) and allows me to not listen to silence.

 

 

Shifts and Security

These things aren’t new – I’ve slept with music on since I was 11, I’ve got a curtain across my bookcase that’s always rolled up, and I still have a night-light. I even have a star-light that puts constellations on the ceiling.

This isn’t me being afraid of moving, but recognising that I won’t be comfortable at first, and trying to make it as comfortable as possible. Especially as I may move in just the day before I begin working.

 

Everyone has fears, and that’s something that makes us human. But in recognising those fears, we can find ways to support ourselves, and find the extra help we’ll need.

My fear used to stop me from living, but now I can embrace them as puzzles to solve.
And solve them I will.

 

How do you deal with change?
Do you know how to support yourself?

– Rose –

* I don’t have OCD as it doesn’t cause me upset and doesn’t affect things outside of my own living space; but it would be silly to think every person looks at a cupboard and worries how dirty the inside of it is or cleans cutlery that is already clean in the kitchen drawer.

Key Principles of Alchemy: Defining My Role

-          You always have a choice
-          One choice is always to “do it differently”

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. – Albert Einstein -


An Example

Growing up, I saw criticism dealt with in two ways.
My mother would apologise and feel guilty.
My father would deny it, insult you for making accusations and usually do the thing more to show you it was fine and needed no criticism.

As a child, I grew up always reacting to criticism by crying and apologising. I then realised that didn’t work and started to fight back, angrily refusing to acknowledge the comment.
Then I noticed that that too, didn’t really work. Being angry and feeling “right” feels better than feeling guilty and crying… and the criticism usually didn’t reappear. But it didn’t make my life work any better.

 * * *

I met my partner, began seeking criticisms on my poetry, left home and discovered a third option: I can accept the comment and evaluate its truth.
Then I can make a decision.

*** I can choose to ignore the comment, saying that I’m happy doing X action in X way. Or I can look at changing it. ***

This does not require crying or yelling, I feel happier about my own behaviour, and I can graciously accept their opinion.
That’s alchemy.


Simplicity

It makes every situation sound simple, putting it in an algorithm like that. And in essence, most of the techniques used in self-development are simple to understand.

However, that doesn’t make them easy.
Sometimes those choices are made with your head and not your heart.
And that’s why I’m here. To ease the journey, to help keep you on track and to give you support.
The Alchemy Forge is your first step to accessing help on this journey.

 * * *

I have moved back in with my parents for a bit, while I find a flat and car, until my new job begins. That means moving back into a place that stunts my growth, feels unsafe, has bad memories and where I am re-conditioned every day by the negativity I was brought up with.
I’m back in that bedroom where I prayed to any God who may exist, and where I used to muffle my crying in case I got yelled at for “being too loud”.
And that is a choice. Because I chose not to get a part-time job this year, I chose this. I knew at the time that this would be a consequence.
And with that awareness, I’ve been building systems into my parent’s house. I’ve recycled my old diaries where I wrote about those bad experiences, I’m halving my belongings and in the process of making space for my future, I’ll be letting go of my past.


Support

I’m an alchemist. I’ve been redefining my life since those dark days 8 years ago. I began my alchemy apprenticeship within that very bedroom.
You may not have experienced redefinition before now, and that’s where my role begins. I can help you redefine your mental space, your physical brain, the rooms of your house and the way you see the world.
I’ve walked this path in three houses, worked on all aspects and I’ve found what doesn’t work as often as what does.
This is what redefinition alchemy is all about. And this is my role.

– Rose –

The Alchemist Ponders Jobs

As an alchemist, I seek transitions. I see the lead around me, particularly in mental health and wellbeing, and I can just imagine all the silver beneath it.

In May, I applied for my first ever full-time job. I then applied for my second at the end of June. By the end of August, of the nine applications, I had five interviews: one in social work, one for a PhD, two in youth work and one in mental health. It’s now the end of October, and I’ve secured a job.


Expectations of a Dream

Since I was young, I’ve flitted between interests and enjoyments. Other than swimming, karate and my first degree, I’ve never stuck to one thing for more than a year. And even then, I took three types of swimming, and did a second degree in a different area.

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked what my dream job would be. Without thinking, I said a Falconer. Secondly, my dream of working with people who experience domestic abuse. Third, my love of running anger management and life skills courses. Fourth, I LOVE teaching Shivanata. But then I love learning and would love to do another degree.

If I picture my life in five years, I’m a housewife and stay-at-home mum; writing novels and painting.

So your guess is as good as mine.


Seeking the Silver

I’ve attributed this to my ability to seek possibility and potential in any space. All the jobs I apply for; from the hospital staff jobs involving cleaning patients to the funded PhD student jobs, have a silver lining I can truly grasp hold of and love.

I wrote a piece for Emmanuelle about my “why” in life, and I can see that opportunity in most job roles in the social care or wellbeing sectors.

“I know that my purpose here is to teach people to help themselves, teach them how to research, to reach out and connect. I’m not here to help you each time you fall; I’m here to teach you how you can get yourself back up again.”

So far, I’ve refurbished the Alchemy Forge to provide services in brain-training, energy healing, word-smithing and self-connecting. These are tools I use in my every day life, and intend to carry into my next job with me, to turn the iron or lead into silver and gold.

Now I’ve been offered a job working with families; teaching life skills and assessing the wellbeing of children. I can see how it fits in with my “dream”.


The Challenges

However, all the jobs I have experienced and think about doing in the future are emotionally challenging. I want to help people in bad places; so I’m going to see bad places, and meet people who are in them. I’m working in an area where this is common and I am well-trained. I know what I’m getting into.

My partner is a foundation doctor, working in a children’s unit. He got into the job to help people who aren’t well. But instead, he’s reporting child abuse and treating babies with cracked skulls.

He didn’t sign up for that. I signed up for helping with child abuse. I worked my way up from working with adults to children, from depression to hospitalised conditions… to children at risk in their own homes.

My partner just wants to help make people’s lives better. But my partner has to treat a parent who has caused lasting damage to a baby like any other person. He has to bite his tongue and sit on his hands as this parent asks when they can go home.
All jobs have challenges. I know I’m specifically going into a challenging field, which is looked upon as wholly negative by a lot of families. I feel that I can deal with it because I can see the iron and change it into gold.

But I don’t know how anyone else deals with it. If anyone earns my compassion, it’s the doctors and the teachers who aren’t there with the purpose of seeing abuse; but have to deal with it anyway.


Your Input

How did you choose your current job?
What lessons have you learned about job-seeking?
What tools would you find most useful in your roles?
How do you deal with anything you didn’t expect?

– Rose –

Rose (MSc): Graduation Fears

It’s official.

I passed my Masters in Cognitive Neuroscience. I got a first in my dissertation, and I beat my BSc score (though the grade is the same).

Results came out last Wednesday at 4pm – while I was at my granddad’s house. So I used my snazzy phone to look it up as the time rolled around. My granddad didn’t even respond; despite explaining what it was and what it meant.

Just thirty minutes before he’d asked if my new job would make use of my degrees and would it allow me to keep learning because he knows I need to learn to be happy. He’d gone on about his own school days in a military school, and his first jobs. And come back to “your degrees, they’re good?”

Telling him I’d done better in my MSc than my BSc, and better in the MSc dissertation by a whole grade; he barely registered it. Telling him I was happy with the results left no impression. Within ten minutes, he’d forgotten. Mum proposed a toast at dinner to my results and he hadn’t just forgotten; he ignored it as if the reminder hadn’t even registered.

 

I’m not bothered that people don’t care – I’m bothered that this is something he should be excited or happy or concerned or interested in – because he values education so highly.

 

Graduation

At the weekend, mum asked if I want to go to the MSc graduation in January.

It’s a lot of money and fuss, I only made two friends on my course, I don’t have a dress and I’d be taking a day off work. But I could get a proper photograph, the gowns are nicer for masters, my partner might be able to come, I’d get to see my two friends…

And when I think back to my BSc graduation, all I remember is being told that my granddad is going to the doctor because they think he has Alzheimer’s.

  * * *

But I doubt he’d even come to this one.

They’re taking him off the medication and he’ll go back to declining at a faster rate.

I read a New Scientist article about the hopes for prevention ~ but they won’t help my granddad. His wife asked me what he could have done to stop it – could he have eaten better or exercised more?

I don’t know many people with dementia who have climbed mountains just a few years before. Snowdon 3 times. Ben Nevis twice. He eats healthily, rambles, goes square dancing, paints, reads the paper, does the Sudoku puzzle daily.

 

But he has a build up of plaques and is on the verge of depression.

And Aricept caused him heart rate to reach 45bpm (for a 65+ year old the rate is 50-55 if they’re still an athlete). He’s 84. He should have been unconscious with that rate.

So they’ll likely take him off the drug, and he’ll be even less likely to be himself, to be excited, and more likely to feel depression. If he declines faster, will he forget to be depressed? Would he be happier?

 * * *

At my BSc graduation, I found out about his Alzheimers. Last week at his house, I found out my MSc results, and got no response.

 

The time for mourning may have already arrived; but I don’t want to give up hope. I can’t fight this, but I don’t know how to just give up.

 

And I’m not sure I want to graduate without him.

 

– Rose –

Misplaced Sensitivity: A Black and White World

A couple of weeks ago, I talked about the balance of “freedom of speech” (which my father uses as a reason to be rude to people) and of “not causing others avoidable harm”, including emotional or mental upset.

I recognise that I cannot save every person from hurt, that negativity can shape positive futures and that people may need wake-up calls which require harmful comments in some cases. However, I do not wish to harm anyone, and working in mental health seems to have brought my sensitivity up to maximum.

This has been a major effect of my redefinition – of defining myself by compassion and openness instead of “needing to be right”.

 ~ ~ ~

Last week, I posted a blog entry about my grandfather, who has Alzheimer’s Disease. I wrote it as an explanation for my mopey behaviour on twitter and because I still aim to share neuroscience-related information.

However, it was picked up for Freshly Pressed a feature, and I received thirty-six comments on it, including a few stating “the cause is X” and “here’s how to avoid it completely” as if anyone knew for sure ALL of the possible factors which cause it or worsen it.

I wouldn’t say I’m patient, but I’ve always thought of myself as open-minded and can generally ignore people I disagree with.  However, reading comments which, to me, said “he could have avoided it simply” made me feel both sick and angry.

What upset me most, were the sweeping generalisations people made.


Levels of Care

From the age of 11, I found my emotional on/off switch. I experienced depression. I could not understand people being upset over earthquakes around the world, or people being upset by insults – they’re just words, after all. I had a very dull sense of emotional caring and a very high sense of right and wrong: a black and white view.

I still struggle in some cases to recognise the “joke too far”, which I assume all people experience on occasion. There is a sense of joking, and of pointing out things in others which I don’t agree with.

However, a few particular triggers have occurred in the last couple of weeks which have really brought to light my raised sensitivity. This is an exercise in making sure I’m on track in my redefinition process, and i’m noticing sensitivity higher than I was “aiming” for.


Newspapers

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reading newspaper articles online. There were a couple which broke free from stigma, where people expressed “they knew it was irrational, but still feel X and they weren’t sure how to resolve that.”

The Response?  Comments on the article included people saying its “hilarious” that someone is upset over a trivial thing or that they are being manipulative by expressing their feelings.

That doesn’t sit well with me. Perhaps its realising just how much hurt people have caused by those comments – how the second half of my childhood was traumatised by that kind of behaviour.

Perhaps it’s because of the judgement, that even though the person has explained why they feel like it, the reader seems to have forgotten to LISTEN, to actually read and feel and understand. Who reads someone else’s view and thinks “Pfft, loser.” Surely I’m not the only human to read that and think “Woah, how did they reach that conclusion? What forms that opinion? How must they feel?”

If someone says “I recognise my feelings are over the top, but I feel sad about this. I know it’s not shared, but I’m human and I feel this”, I respect that person. They’ve fought through the stigma of “remaining silent”. They’ve done the mental work; they’ve recognised it would seem inappropriate to be openly upset and that upsetting others by their feelings isn’t going to help.

And they’re brave enough to be honest about those feelings regardless.


Not Just Content

Another incident involved a particular wording of a newspaper article’s title. The comments about misrepresentation were high, and I agree with that. However, the comments instantly targeted a new misrepresentation; instantly making the same mistake but just with someone else’s label, not theirs.

Comments saying “this title suggests X group are causing harm. In actual fact, It’s Ys fault, Y are harming people because they THINK those people are Xs” were common.

Who said Y is the ONLY cause of this harm? Who said that ALL Y groups do this? How dare you complain X are being stigmatised and then stigmatise Y.

It just doesn’t sit well with me. I’d call that hypocrisy and I even got involved in the comments to express this view.

~ ~ ~

In this incident, people were also defining “child abuse” as part of their comments. Up arose the black-or-white teachings of my childhood and the rage that these people were attributing certain acts as “not really abuse”, when I know people who are traumatised and unable to live “normally” because of those actions.

If you are causing negativity to someone else with intention, that is deliberate harm and thus abuse in the dictionary and my opinion.  That covers smoking near someone else, yelling at someone, calling someone names, using someone’s past against them and withholding something they need (neglect).

Yet I found very quickly that saying “well they called you a stupid woman, that’s verbal abuse” in the open gives you “don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a comment”. Why is hitting a child wrong but telling them off for crying “too loudly” not. Why is that person harassing you by commenting on your clothes but if they call your idea “ridiculous”, it’s not?


Judgement at Home

However, this realisation is not limited to online news stories. I’m living back with my parents. With the judgmental man who sees in black and white, and will openly profess his instant judgement. He’d yell at you for saying yelling is abuse; and come out with some “fact” that “everybody with sense knows” that is total horse-shit (not factual, just his opinion).

I grew up in a world where the world was black or white; and where he was always right, and everyone else was lacking. Through countering this, through trying to teach myself compassion, I’ve found that stepping outside of ym bedroom causes me rage and suffering on behalf of others who just shrug and accept life as “freedom”.


Your Thoughts

Much like the person from the newspaper article, I recognise this isn’t what society may call “normal”. This is me reading my own map and trying to work out if I wish to continue on this path; if these reactions are what I want – because I’m judging those people who make the comments.

It has brought to light a particular issue and while I take time to look it over in my own space, I’d like to know your views and thoughts:

How do you deal with drawing a line between freedom of speech and harming others?

What do you use to guide your choices in what is or is not appropriate?



– Rose –

 

Want to investigate your own beliefs? As phoenix rises from ashes into flame, the alchemist turns lead to gold.

Wander over to the Alchemy Forge and let’s fire up your thoughts.