After yesterday’s food for thought, today a client told me that coming to see me was like picking at a scab. All that happens is that the wound is briefly reopened, looked at, and then nothing changes and it just scabs over until the next session where we do it all over again.
I gently remind them that they came in the first place because how they were dealing with the issues in their life wasn’t working.
‘Oh yes, I agree. But this isn’t working either.’
Hmm.
As before, lots to think about there and reflect upon.
Is it because now isn’t the right time for them? Is it because feeling resistant to therapy can be part of the journey? Is it because change is hard, and we tend to follow the path we’re familiar with?
Or is it because I’m not challenging this client enough? Am I doing too much reflecting and empathising, when what’s needed is more of a tough love type of approach?
Or - as ever- quite probably a bit of both.
Sunday, 10 November 2019
Monday, 14 October 2019
Client feedback
Today I had a final session with a client that I’ve been seeing for a few months.
Me: So is there anything useful from our time together that you could use going forward? Any strategies, or things you found helpful?
Client: Not really, no.
😐
Working with teenagers is just so rewarding, they told me.
Now, I can put this response down to coming back after a break of a few weeks, or to the client finding it difficult to articulate the benefits of therapy (he did come regularly every week, so I like to think he must have been getting something out of it). But. Self-reflection is an important and essential part of this work and I need to think about what this feedback means for me. What could I have done better? What can I learn from this?
I also finished with another, adult client today.
‘These sessions have been massively helpful, I just can’t thank you enough... I don’t know what I would have done without them,’ the client enthused.
Their praise made me feel a bit uncomfortable and to want to downplay my part in it. ‘Oh, the hard work was yours, I’m just a guide’ I said.
Why do we find it so hard to accept compliments? Yes, absolutely the emotional hard work was the client’s, but my part is far from insignificant. A lot of the time my colleagues and I feel like we’re fighting to gain respect and to get people to understand that what we do is more than just tea and sympathy, and then I’m playing into this by minimising my own skills and experience.
Imposter syndrome? British reserve?
Lots to reflect upon from both clients today, anyway.
Me: So is there anything useful from our time together that you could use going forward? Any strategies, or things you found helpful?
Client: Not really, no.
😐
Working with teenagers is just so rewarding, they told me.
Now, I can put this response down to coming back after a break of a few weeks, or to the client finding it difficult to articulate the benefits of therapy (he did come regularly every week, so I like to think he must have been getting something out of it). But. Self-reflection is an important and essential part of this work and I need to think about what this feedback means for me. What could I have done better? What can I learn from this?
I also finished with another, adult client today.
‘These sessions have been massively helpful, I just can’t thank you enough... I don’t know what I would have done without them,’ the client enthused.
Their praise made me feel a bit uncomfortable and to want to downplay my part in it. ‘Oh, the hard work was yours, I’m just a guide’ I said.
Why do we find it so hard to accept compliments? Yes, absolutely the emotional hard work was the client’s, but my part is far from insignificant. A lot of the time my colleagues and I feel like we’re fighting to gain respect and to get people to understand that what we do is more than just tea and sympathy, and then I’m playing into this by minimising my own skills and experience.
Imposter syndrome? British reserve?
Lots to reflect upon from both clients today, anyway.
Friday, 22 February 2019
I’m sitting here in a very quiet house, listening to the fridge hum and occasionally gurgle, and I’m thinking about the future.
It’s very quiet because all three children aren’t here right now. Two are camping and one is at a friend’s and the best word to describe it all is weird.
Having child-free time isn’t actually that unusual, but what is is when it goes on beyond 3.15 (or more realistically, 3.12 which is when I leave the house to pick them up. Yes, I live really quite close to school). Six hours is on the one hand a lot of time to have child-free, but if say you meet friends for a 10k run at 10 am, struggle around the route chosen by your friend which may or may not include having to barefoot it across a ford IN DECEMBER, have lunch, come home, shower, and nap (because running 10k is bloody exhausting) then that’s the day gone, basically. So often I find myself wanting more time (don’t we all).
Today I’ve got more time than I had things planned for. Sounds bliss, doesn’t it? But now I’m thinking I should have planned things more, taken more advantage. And I’m really missing the nonsensical laughter at things that are well, nonsense. Or being able to make them laugh by pulling a funny face or just dancing badly (I’m still hoping that I might become famous and make Strictly one day. Shut up, it could happen).
And one day this house will be quiet all the time. Not for ages, of course, and I know how grown-up children have a habit of bouncing back home for intervals, but there will come a time when I won’t hear laughter, playing, fighting, crying, singing etc etc. And I’ll really miss it.
For all things a season and so on, and in the same way that a counselling relationship starts with a view to ending, parenting will always have a view to them becoming adults and not needing us in the same way. It’s just so hard to imagine right now.
It’s very quiet because all three children aren’t here right now. Two are camping and one is at a friend’s and the best word to describe it all is weird.
Having child-free time isn’t actually that unusual, but what is is when it goes on beyond 3.15 (or more realistically, 3.12 which is when I leave the house to pick them up. Yes, I live really quite close to school). Six hours is on the one hand a lot of time to have child-free, but if say you meet friends for a 10k run at 10 am, struggle around the route chosen by your friend which may or may not include having to barefoot it across a ford IN DECEMBER, have lunch, come home, shower, and nap (because running 10k is bloody exhausting) then that’s the day gone, basically. So often I find myself wanting more time (don’t we all).
Today I’ve got more time than I had things planned for. Sounds bliss, doesn’t it? But now I’m thinking I should have planned things more, taken more advantage. And I’m really missing the nonsensical laughter at things that are well, nonsense. Or being able to make them laugh by pulling a funny face or just dancing badly (I’m still hoping that I might become famous and make Strictly one day. Shut up, it could happen).
And one day this house will be quiet all the time. Not for ages, of course, and I know how grown-up children have a habit of bouncing back home for intervals, but there will come a time when I won’t hear laughter, playing, fighting, crying, singing etc etc. And I’ll really miss it.
For all things a season and so on, and in the same way that a counselling relationship starts with a view to ending, parenting will always have a view to them becoming adults and not needing us in the same way. It’s just so hard to imagine right now.
I've been thinking a lot in the last 24 hours or so about choices, or lack of.
Yesterday I spoke with someone in an abusive relationship, and we talked about power and control. She has neither (or, more correctly, she feels like she doesn't).
I am (mostly) happily married, I (mostly) love my work; all in all I'm incredibly lucky and fortunate. What struck me yesterday is that where I am most lucky/made the best choice is in my husband.
This isn't a 'I'm so clever, I would never be so stupid as to have a relationship with an abusive man' post. The woman I talked with didn't, to begin with. When I was younger I did have a relationship with someone (I hesitate to call him a man) who, although not physically abusive, tried to distance me from my family and friends, put me down, gaslighted me, lied, cheated, basically made me feel crap and like he knew best. Fairly low level stuff compared to what so many women go through, and he never hit me. We were only together for a few years, but what if we'd stayed together? What if we'd had children? Then I would be in the same position as the woman I talked to.
From a distance it all seems so simple. If he hits you, leave. If he cheats, leave.
But I'm left sitting here feeling like it wouldn't have been a stretch for that to be me. I'm also feeling helpless in my ability to make a difference to her.
Yesterday I spoke with someone in an abusive relationship, and we talked about power and control. She has neither (or, more correctly, she feels like she doesn't).
I am (mostly) happily married, I (mostly) love my work; all in all I'm incredibly lucky and fortunate. What struck me yesterday is that where I am most lucky/made the best choice is in my husband.
This isn't a 'I'm so clever, I would never be so stupid as to have a relationship with an abusive man' post. The woman I talked with didn't, to begin with. When I was younger I did have a relationship with someone (I hesitate to call him a man) who, although not physically abusive, tried to distance me from my family and friends, put me down, gaslighted me, lied, cheated, basically made me feel crap and like he knew best. Fairly low level stuff compared to what so many women go through, and he never hit me. We were only together for a few years, but what if we'd stayed together? What if we'd had children? Then I would be in the same position as the woman I talked to.
From a distance it all seems so simple. If he hits you, leave. If he cheats, leave.
But I'm left sitting here feeling like it wouldn't have been a stretch for that to be me. I'm also feeling helpless in my ability to make a difference to her.
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Blue bunting for Blaire
Lovely title, no? Sadly (purely for alliterative purposes) her name isn't actually Blaire. It's a hilarious in-joke between me and one other friend when my olde Nokia 3310 (remember them?? T'was the height of sophistication at the time) autocorrected her real name to Blaire. (Obviously, it's totally impossible to guess what her real name is.) I don't know about you, but I've never met anyone called Blaire in real life.
Anyway. Back to the point, and some lovely (I think) bunting. Pics:
Anyway. Back to the point, and some lovely (I think) bunting. Pics:
Unusually clutter-free mantelpiece. No, I'm not keen on the flowery stuff either. But LOOK AT THE BUNTING!
Close-up. Stylecraft DK in petrol, turquoise, cloud blue and denim. But you knew that anyway, right?
One more pic for luck....
If it looks familiar, it's because it was in Simply Crochet and is Attic24's Summer bunting pattern, which you can read about here. See how I am challenging gender stereotypes by doing blue for a girl. Or, also because I just prefer blue...
I got my buttons from the lovely Stephanie at Berry Nice Crafts. I believe Wool Warehouse are doing an Attic bundle of the four balls plus buttons Berry's are cheaper
I haven't seen the bunting in situ yet, as Blaire lives not that close to me in the big, big city. But I think it was a success...
Friday, 16 May 2014
Goodbye Alison
Today I went to a funeral. I'm lucky (?) enough that this was only the eighth funeral I've ever been to in 40+ years.
It was for one of the mums at school. Her son is the same age as my first born, my DS (and she was a year younger than me). So although we were friendly rather than good friends, it hit hard, thinking of my children in the same circumstances, being left without a mum.
She died of multiple myeloma - a cancer that has highest incidence rates among people who are:
- over 75
- male
- black
- living in deprived areas.
She was none of those, and it was less than six months from diagnosis until she died. Looking at the stats, the number of women in the UK who were diagnosed with this type of cancer between 2009-2011 numbers... 13. In a population of what, 65 million.
I'm still wondering to what extent the tears that I cried (there were lots, but I'm a big crier) were for her, to what extent they were for her children, and to what extent they were to do with me, my losses, my feelings and thoughts.
Anyway, I wanted to do something, so I made a heart, based on the Attic 24 heart.
It isn't my best effort. I'm not being modest - I made a similar one for my mum and it was better. But here it is:
Front side. The main body is Drops Paris in turquoise, and the flower and petals/wings (there are two, honest) is a variegated cotton yarn, but I don't have the brand anymore.
Back side. The one I did for my mum was blank on the back, but I've added an 'A' for Alison here in the same variegated yarn - the pattern for the A is from Moogly alphabet.
I hope it brings her parents some comfort.
Goodbye Alison.
It was for one of the mums at school. Her son is the same age as my first born, my DS (and she was a year younger than me). So although we were friendly rather than good friends, it hit hard, thinking of my children in the same circumstances, being left without a mum.
She died of multiple myeloma - a cancer that has highest incidence rates among people who are:
- over 75
- male
- black
- living in deprived areas.
She was none of those, and it was less than six months from diagnosis until she died. Looking at the stats, the number of women in the UK who were diagnosed with this type of cancer between 2009-2011 numbers... 13. In a population of what, 65 million.
I'm still wondering to what extent the tears that I cried (there were lots, but I'm a big crier) were for her, to what extent they were for her children, and to what extent they were to do with me, my losses, my feelings and thoughts.
Anyway, I wanted to do something, so I made a heart, based on the Attic 24 heart.
It isn't my best effort. I'm not being modest - I made a similar one for my mum and it was better. But here it is:
I hope it brings her parents some comfort.
Goodbye Alison.
Strawberry flower pattern
As this is my first ever, pattern, I didn't realise you couldn't just put all the details in Ravelry and had to link it elsewhere!
So here it is:
So here it is:
PATTERN
Ch = chain
S/s = slip stitch
DC = double crochet (single crochet in US terms)
S/s = slip stitch
DC = double crochet (single crochet in US terms)
Round 1: In yellow, either chain 3 and s/s to join, or use a magic loop.
Round 2: ch1, then 10 dc into the loop. S/s to first dc - 10 dcs. Fasten off yellow.
Round 2: ch1, then 10 dc into the loop. S/s to first dc - 10 dcs. Fasten off yellow.
Round 3: In white, join in any of the dc stitches. Ch3, then 4 tr in the same stitch. S/s into the next stitch.
Five trebles into the next stitch, s/s into the next one.
Repeat until you end up with five petals. S/s behind the first ch of the ch3 to join. Fasten off.
Five trebles into the next stitch, s/s into the next one.
Repeat until you end up with five petals. S/s behind the first ch of the ch3 to join. Fasten off.
Round 4: In green, join behind the flower in a vertical stitch of the yellow dcs from round 2, between two petals. Ch5, then s/s into the second chain from the hook. Dc into the next stitch, then s/s into each of the next two.
Ch1, s/s into a vertical stitch that’s between the next two petals.
Repeat around until you have 5 tendrils, roughly between each petal.
Ch1 and s/s join to the bottom of the first tendril.
Cast off leaving a long tail, so you can just anchor each tendril to the back of the petals (so the stitches aren’t visible from the front). This will keep them in place and stop them moving about.
Ch1, s/s into a vertical stitch that’s between the next two petals.
Repeat around until you have 5 tendrils, roughly between each petal.
Ch1 and s/s join to the bottom of the first tendril.
Cast off leaving a long tail, so you can just anchor each tendril to the back of the petals (so the stitches aren’t visible from the front). This will keep them in place and stop them moving about.
I hope you like it - let me know if there are any issues please, and I'll try to edit it.
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