Throwing in the Towel - But Not in a Suicidal Way

Due to unforeseen circumstances (my laziness), I will no longer be cohabiting this blog with my wonderful, adorable sis. I did start to write in a journal (the kind with real pages and stuff), but I simply cannot get myself to write in an online blog the way I used to. And since technology hasn't come up with a way for me to upload my journal pages onto this blog, I'm pretty much stuck (Jodi says that "blogger" IS the technology to do this, but I'm ignoring her. Which is hard since I'm at her house right now).

Jodi has invited me to guest blog, so I may pop in from time to time. 

Thank you to those who read my pitifully few posts! Now I hereby relinquish all control of this blog to my sis (who is maniacally laughing in the background right now, saying "It's mine! ALL MINE.").

A Post of Excuses

Ditto what Jodi said! Every day this week, I have felt like I need to write a post about our vacation, but there is just SO MUCH. I do not know where to begin. And Jodi is absolutely right- our pics are inconveniently scattered among several cameras. Sadly, the pics I have on my camera are very few. Even worse, an entire island isn't even on a camera at all, but is still on a CD we had to purchase for $40 (we couldn't take our cameras because we were kayaking and snorkeling). To further complicate things, I am having a hell of a time uploading pictures at all onto this blog. Egh!

By the way, GETTING to our cruise ship was the WORST travel experience in my life. Jodi will confirm this.

I will try and write a decent post about our vacation this weekend (I was secretly hoping Jodi would beat me to it). Maybe I will just do bullet points or something.

Remembering the Jelly

Thought I'd drop in!

I haven't written in so long, and so I've been experiencing that phenomenon where the longer you don't write, the harder it is to write. Actually, I don't think that is much of a phenomenon. That's more like...a boring occurence. In any case, I really want to get back into the habit of writing again.

Jodi and I were texting back and forth the other day...well I wrote her this:

"Hey Jojo! It's Shan. I can't do our blog anymore. I'm so sorry. I thought it was because of my tests, but now they are done, and I just have no urge to write in it. I keep hoping I'll get the urge, but it's not happening. It's not cool that you have to keep explaining my absence. Do you want to take it over, and just have me as an occasional guest blogger?"

Yeah, I actually was gonna quit.

This is one of the things Jo wrote back:

"You've NEVER been able to sustain writing though. Remember how you used to rip all of your journal pages? This is your blogging version of that."

She is absolutely, 100% correct. My sister has shelves full of journals that she has been maintaining since high school. Me? Nothing. I have ripped or burned any journal I have ever attempted (burning is more fun).

Jodi's journals are time capsules filled with fragments of her life. What I love about them is the nature of the memories. Anyone will mentally file away significant events and milestones. But these journals document the things that most wouldn't bother to remember, the threads of one's world that seem small, but accumulate in such a way to create the whole fabric of a life.

The other day, I stumbled upon my old "MySpace" account. My profile is set on private, and I can't remember the password, but I was able to see a dozen or so old "blog" entries I had written. Here is what one of them said (dated 10-09-2006):

"Okay, I had a dream that my kids turned into different jars of jelly. Samantha was butterscotch (butterscotch jelly? I don't think that even exists). Either Cassidi or Dylan was strawberry preserves. That's all I can remember."

This got me thinking. If I hadn't written this down, I would have NEVER in a million years, remembered that I had this dream? And this reminded me of a quote from my favorite book EVER:

"If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable – what then?”
― George Orwell, 1984

Back to my dream. If I am the only one who has a memory of this dream, and I LOSE this memory, did this dream even happen? Even actual memories...If a man in a purple shirt almost hit my car with his bike 3 years ago, but the man has no recollection of the event, and I no longer remember it, does this incident even exist? Nobody can see it, hear it, touch it...It doesn't take up any mass in space....if the only place this incident ever existed is in the mind of the man and the mind of me, but it no longer exists in his mind or my mind, whose to say it even occurred?

This is probably just an annoying extension of the whole "If a tree falls in a forest..." question, but...I get stuck on these silly thoughts sometimes.

Basically, I want to try and keep writing. I'm afraid that if I don't, my memories will start to evaporate, and then it will be like they never happened at all.

Still breathing

Just a quick post to say I'm still alive, and my life totally sucks right now!

Four more days until my test...

Most Sincerely,
The Sad, Pathetic & Joyless Twin.

It's Me (Shannon)!

Here I am! My poor sister. I have wondered if some readers have been doubting my existence, and started to question whether she has some kind of delusional disorder, due to my complete lack of presence on this blog. I realize I have failed miserably at blogging lately. Sorry Jo!

Truth is, I am going bonkers over here. The good news is, I will be able to write on a regular basis after October 10th.

I wanted to give a quick update, because some pretty big things have happened. I think the last time I wrote, I was anguishing over whether I passed my test or not (actually, I was convinced I had failed it). So, apparently my gut reaction is unbelievably retarded, because I passed it with room to spare. Then, I like...blinked, and I got promoted to Program Coordinator (I got a nice raise, and was switched to salary and everything...Yippee!). One thing with my new position though- the position requires one to be licensed as a psychologist because half of the job is providing clinical supervision to interns. I am not licensed yet. Since I am so close, my work gave me the job, and came up with a Band-Aid solution for the next few months (basically, they brought in a licensed clinical psychologist to work a couple times a week to provide the interns with their supervision until I am able to take over that role).

This was a perfect scenario for me because it gave me the job I wanted, but it also gave me the time to study for my last test (the CPSE) and take the five CEs (online courses ranging from 7 hours to 15 hours in length) I needed for licensure. No stress. YAY. And when I DID feel ready to supervise the interns, I could gently transition into that role with plenty of guidance.

Except our Band-Aid solution suddenly quit.

Now I have 8 interns with no supervisor, and no other back up plan. They simply cannot accrue any hours until I am licensed. My test was already scheduled for the 10th, but I realized I would have to take all my CEs before the test, to speed up the process. For the last week, I put all my studying on the back burner so I could focus on cranking out those stupid classes. I finished the last one three days ago, and sent those all to the Board of Psychology along with a $400 check to pay for my license, and an emotional plea to please expedite the process. The ONLY THING standing in the way of me and my license in ONE STUPID TEST. Now I am back to studying, but I have less than 2 weeks to get this stuff down, and I am bombing the practice tests. Oh, one more thing. If I fail this, I can't take it again for 6 months. But no pressure or anything.

This was really boring, but I felt the need to explain my absence on our blog. Wish me luck!

The Test from Hell

I took my test, and it was so awful. I would rather have a tooth extracted with no Novocain than go through that again. Or a bone marrow biopsy. Or an ingrown toenail removed. Or a Barium enema. Or all of them done simultaneously. I don't ever want to take that stupid test again.

But I might have to...I think I bombed it.

I arrived to the Prometric Testing Center about a half hour early, so I flipped through some of my study materials and tried to quickly review some of the concepts (in my car). I walked in about 15 minutes before my scheduled time, and I felt fairly calm (no, I did not drink or pop any benzos, although in hindsight, that may have helped). I signed in, and they asked for 2 forms of identification. They had me put all of my stuff in a locker. They also had me empty out my pockets, and roll my jeans up to my calves. The lady waved a hand-held metal detector up and down my body. I wasn't throwing up or anything...So far so good.

The lady walked me into the testing section, where there were various computers and multiple intense-looking individuals already taking some test or other. There were also video cameras monitoring each person. The lady showed me my computer, and also held up some headphones and whispered, "These are for you to use if you need to block out the noise." I looked at her with confusion and said, "What noise?" (Seriously, it was so quiet that I thought I heard someone's stomach growl). She just laughed, and walked out.

I completed the tutorial, and then my test began. When the first question popped up, my heart instantly sank. It was about some obscure minority study done in the '90s. I guessed on that one, and hoped the second question would be better. But it wasn't. Out of the first 10 questions, there were 2 that only looked vaguely familiar. The good news is that my heart stopped sinking. The bad news: It was now pounded in my throat. I had this horrible feeling that all the study material I had studied for months was just WRONG. After question 12 or so, the questions began to transition into material that looked a bit more familiar, but by then, my palms were clenched, I was sweating, and my heart was pummeling out of my chest.

Sadly, even the questions I THOUGHT I knew were worded in such a way that two answers seemed correct, or none of the answers seemed correct. The test allows one to "mark" questions that they would like to review later. When I completed all 225 questions, I had 66 marked. I had only reviewed about 10 of them when I ran out of time. So yeah, I feel fairly certain I failed. I went home, locked myself in the bathroom, and cried. I was so depressed and anxious that night. All night, my brain kept ruminating over this damn test. My reaction to this was such a shock to me because I don't normally become this anxious over....anything. My Dad, husband, and Jodi all gave me very reassuring feedback, but nothing they said would resonate. I tried to sleep, but I kept spontaneously remembering questions and fighting the urge to look up the answers. At like...3am that night, I decided to cancel the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn, because I had decided I was too depressed to go, and I didn't want to bring them down.

When I woke up that morning, I was an exhausted mess. It was while I was curling my hair for work that I decided I simply needed to get over it. I even said out loud to my reflection in the mirror, "You aren't the only one who has taken this test before, so get over yourself." I figured I had already allowed myself approximately 14 hours to completely fall apart into a heaping pile of self pity, and now it was time to move on. I also decided NOT to cancel the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn.

And that's where I am at right now. I won't find out my score until the 5th or 6th of August, but I will be okay. If I failed the test, I will fork over $600 and take it again (it would be a different version, unfortunately, so any of the questions I retained are useless).

The good news: I don't have to study right now! I can actually write on this blog again. I can read a book. I can watch something on Netflix. I can go for a walk. I can parent my kids.

Just a random thing: During the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn, I found out an interesting fact about my sister that I never knew (this doesn't sound like a big thing, but when you are a twin who knows pretty much everything ABOUT your twin, it feels pretty cool to discover some novel fact). So the new thing is, my sister is "hard to sedate." This is what she was told by a doctor because she woke up in the MIDDLE of surgery. Jodi was knocked out under general anesthesia while surgeons were attempting to repair her vocal chord. Suddenly, she sits up and nonchalantly starts chattering away. The doctors experienced a moment of alarm, and quickly knocked her out again. When Jodi was told about it later, she had no memory of the incident.

Blogger Issues

I just reread that last post, and I am laughing, because it is SO terrible! I don't know what is going on right now, but Blogger won't allow me to put spaces between paragraphs, insert pictures, italize words, add links, or basically do ANYTHING besides write a steady stream of word vomit. To make things worse, the "space bar" on my laptop isn't working properly, so I am having to go back and add the spaces beteeen most of my words after the fact. Anyway, I apologize if that last post strongly resembles a spontaneous Bipolar manic episode.

Studying for the EPPP

This is just a quick post to write about why I haven't been writing. I am in EPPP hell. EPPP is the Exam for Professional Practice in Psychology. It is one of the last and largest obstacles I have to conquer in order to become licensed to practice as a clinical psychologist.  It is a nightmare.

Like many others, I am a natural procrastinator. I have always waited until the night before to study for a test or complete an assignment, even though this meant pulling a lot of all nighters. Even my dissertation was done in several massive binge episodes (involving a lot of wine).  This test is different...it involves SO much material, and it requires much more than a last minute cramming session...this has been quite a challenge for me. The study materials I bought for this test ("Psychprep") came with a 14 week study plan, which involve approximately 15 hours of studying a week.

That should have been reasonable, but with the kiddos and working full time (and another additional 10-12 hours a week in commute time), I have had a hell of a time keeping up with the study guide. I kept pushing my test date further and further out (I initially had planned to take it in April), and I realized I had to do something before I felt like a complete loser.

So I requested every Wednesday in July off to study, and now I am going for it. My test date is July 24th, and I am FREAKING out. The test cost $600, so if I bomb it, I will be really bummed out. On the bright side, when I see Kristyn, I will have taken the test the day before, so I will be more relaxed during our visit. My WHOLE life until the 24th is working, studying, with a little half assed parenting sprinkled in here and there. After work, I take practice tests at home. I listen to the audio CDS in my car. I read through the different study sections on my lunch breaks. That is IT. There is no entertainment. No fun. It is all pure drudgery. I realize that this blog post itself is profoundly boring. I find this to be appropriate, as this is a rather accurate depiction of my mind-numbingly, uninteresting life.

P.S. Not sure if it is a problem with Blogger or with my laptop, but I can't insert any pictures, including my siggy right now. :-( P.S.S Jodi, feel free to insert my siggy for me, Haha P.S.S.S Apparently Blogger is unable to do separate paragraphs as well (this was initially written as 5 separate paragraphs).

P.S.S. (update from Jodi)--Siggy added and paragraphs incorporated (probably in the wrong spots, but hey, they're there).  ;)

From the Real Shannon

This will be a quick post. It has been SO long since I have last written, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my sister started acting like a butthead about it. On the bright side, I learned a lot about my life from Jodi. I guess I spend my days "therapyzing" and working on my "paper thing." (Jodi, what paper are you talking about???! You know I'm not in school anymore, right??). I guess I'm "psychoanalyzing" as well, which is pretty remarkable in an acute facility (average length of stay for inpatient is 5-7 days), considering psychoanalysis takes a minimum of two years.

I really just wanted to offer a brief explanation of why I haven't written for a while. It has been brutal the last few weeks. It started about a month ago, with our Vegas trip. The trip was actually REALLY fun. However, I started to get sick that weekend, and that bug clung to me for about 2 1/2 weeks (extreme fatigue, chronic headache, sore/burning throat,and acid reflux IN my throat, which was really freakin' weird). After taking every OTC med possible (including Prilosec for a couple weeks), it finally disappeared.

 In the meantime though, I rear-ended a brand new Camaro (still had dealer plates on) on the 60 FW. My car was fine, but hers was pretty jacked up (on the bright side, I discovered my car kicks ass in a crash...I had like...ONE tiny scratch, while her bumper was falling off). She got herself an attorney, and she is claiming injury now (although she didn't look that injured when she was running around her car road ragin', screaming, and dropping F bombs...but hey, I'm not a medical doctor). Luckily, it seems as if my insurance is handling the lawsuit and all that.

Then my son's school calls to tell me he is having an asthma attack. I was like, my son has asthma? So I had to take time off work to get him an exam, blood work, chest x-ray....Jeremy also had to take time off work to take him for an echocardiogram, because the doctor wanted to rule out a rare heart condition. He has an inhaler now (which I like to take hits off of sometimes because...well...it's fun). Adding to this was trying to enroll Shelby in Kindergarten. The school wouldn't accept her physical exam from February because it was supposed to be done after March, so that was another appointment. AND Samantha got some infection on her head, which was ANOTHER appointment. I feel pretty sure our family doctor can put his own kids through college now.

I also got a flat tire, but that is nothing new. I am cursed when it comes to tires.This was actually a nice one. Rather than the tire violently blowing off my rim and leaving me stranded somewhere with no cell signal (which is what typically happens), this one just calmly deflated into a pancake.

In the midst of all of this, I have been trying to study for this nightmare test (the only part of my life Jodi got right). And that's all. I am going to try and write another post over the weekend, because I still have more I want to write, but I'm too drowsy right now.

My Week: By Shannon

Hi, it's Shannon!*

*(Okay, there's a small chance that this isn't really Shannon.  This might be Jodi parading around as Shannon because Shannon refuses to write a damn blog entry and Jodi's ready to write another post but doesn't want to have three in a row lest it look like she's hoarding the whole freakin' blog....

But only a SMALL chance). 

So like I said, this is Shannon, and I want to tell you about my week.  Let's see.  Work was good this week.  I did a lot of psychoanalyzing and therapyzing people.  And then I worked on my...paper thing. Or maybe I studied.  YES--I think I might have studied, because I have a test or something that I need to pass for my licensing thing.

Oh yeah, this Saturday I'm going to do a 5k with Jodi in which I plan to pant in agony and hold my cramping side the whole time while she blows right past me.

That about covers it.

  

So this is Therapy

There are times at my job where I am confronted with such madness that everything I learned in school just seems totally irrelevant.

I had a family meeting the other afternoon (on Unit 3, which is always a red flag). Prior to the meeting, I asked the case manager, "Do you believe the patient is stable enough to participate meaningfully in the meeting?" She said, "Sure, he's good!"

Famous last words.

The patient (who I will call Pete) rolled into the meeting in a wheelchair, holding a Bible. I guess this should be a perplexing thing, since he isn't disabled at all. A couple hours ago, he was running all over the unit (you know, on his feet, which work quite well). I'm not even sure where he got the wheelchair. Anyway, Pete gave a cheerful "hello" to his family (who were already appearing confused about the wheelchair), and then started singing at the top of his lungs: "I fell into a burning ring of fire! I went down, down, down and the flames went HIGHER!" They looked totally stunned, and I was trying to hide my smile (I can't help it, but I REALLY like that song).

I asked Pete, "How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?"

He looked at me and loudly recited from the Bible:

"Put on the cooking pot; put it on and pour water into it.

Put into it the pieces of meat, all the choice pieces--the leg and the shoulder.

Fill it with the best of these bones; take the pick of the flock.

Pile wood beneath it for the bones; bring it to a boil

And cook the bones in it."

 Ummm.....so was that a "yes" or a "no"????

I glanced at his family, and they stared back at me, wide-eyed. His father tried to ask Pete a simple question, and before he could finish, Pete interrupted loudly, "I FELL INTO A BURNING RING OF FIRE! DOWN DOWN DOWNNNN AND THE FLAMES WENT HIGHER!" His father, not to be deterred, continued to persist with his question, albeit louder this time. Pete's response became thunderous, "AND IT BURNS BURNS BUUUUURNS, THE RING OF FIRE, THE RIIIINNNNG OF FIIIRRRRE!!!"

The family looked at me, probably hoping for some kind of meaningful assessment of his behavior. You know, since I am the clinical therapist and stuff.

In that moment, the best I could come up with was, "Well, on the bright side, he really DOES sound like Johnny Cash..."

Not my most therapeutic moment.

I said to Pete, "I really want you to be able to participate in this meeting, so I want to give you one last chance-"

Pete interrupted me, "PUT ON THE COOKING POT, PUT AND POUR WATER INTO IT, PUT INTO IT THE PIECES OF MEAT, ALL THE CHOICE PIECES THE LEG AND THE SHOULDER..."

Pete's grandmother sweetly declared, "That Bible passage sounds like a recipe."

I replied, "You're right, it DOES...I'm waiting for the 'just add 2 pinches of salt' part." Then I kicked Pete out of the meeting.

The meeting was actually really productive after that. At some point, I unearthed my brain, and was able to educate the family about the onset of Schizophrenia and give them a little hope.

Changing the subject, Andrew has been bringing an umbrella every day to group lately. It started a couple weeks ago. I asked him, "Andrew, why are you bringing an umbrella?"

He looked at me like I was the biggest moron in the world, and flatly stated, "In case it rains." I walked over to the window, and peered out into the sunny, blue sky. There wasn't a single cloud.

Earlier this week, Thelma told me she had an iron marble lodged in her brain. I asked her why she thought that. She said, "I was taking my medication, and I accidentally swallowed the marble, and now it is in my brain."

I said, "Don't worry Thelma, since you didn't choke on the marble, that means it went in your digestive system, and you'll probably just poop it out."

"Really?" She asked, hopefully.

"Yep! In fact, you may have already flushed it down the toilet!" 

I'm telling y'all, it is such a good thing I went through all those years of school.  

The Last Time I Loved Technology

I just found out that my husband has been conveniently depositing his paychecks through his CELL PHONE, because his employer does not offer direct deposit. Apparently, he takes a picture of both sides of the check, enters a few key pieces of information, and the bank deposits the $$$ without ever possessing the actual check. And apparently, a lot of people are already aware of this, and I am just utterly oblivious.

In the past, this would be something that would have completely amazed me. And it should amaze me. There was a time when I used to feel so astonished with each new, technological invention or concept. However, at some point, technology started evolving so fast that I became numb to it all. Not just numb, but...a little repelled. I started regarding it with some distaste. It's like the kid who freakin' LOVES candy, but after eating it all night on Halloween, doesn't want another bite.

Here are a few examples of new technology that I should find astounding, but I don't.

Google Glass

And you thought your Oakley's were cool



This is a wearable computer with a head mounted display, which displays information in a smartphone-like hands-free format. If you can't walk and chew gum at the same time, this probably isn't for you.

Wireless Solar Keyboard

Hopefully you have a wireless, solar monitor lying around



This keyboard doesn't look like much, but it contains a solar battery that will stay charged for up to 3 months, even when the keyboard has been indoors or in total darkness. It comes in really handy for those three month power outages.  

Livescribe Echo Smartpen

The pen yet again proves it is mightier than the sword

This pen allows you to record audio while you’re taking notes, and then play them back later. You can save and share interactive notes to your computer, iPad or iPhone, and the memory storage holds 400 or 800 hours of recorded audio. Also great for blackmailing your coworkers.

Senseglove

 

I don't know what the hell this does, but it looks cool.

So yeah, this is some pretty neat stuff. But my failure to feel any sense of wonder with all this new technology got me thinking....when DID I last love technology? And I remembered three times when...I did.

The Cordless Phone



I can't remember how old I was when we first got a cordless phone, but I am guessing I was either in my preteens or early teenage years. And holy shit, I LOVED that thing. The first time I used it, I kept a running monologue going of my astonishment to my poor friend on the other end, that went something like this:

"Now I am approaching the door...It is still working...Now I am outside, can you BELIEVE I am OUTSIDE? I am walking ON my driveway now, and it is STILL working. I can't believe this, I am by my street, and I can STILL talk to you! Now I am ON the street-*static* Hello? *static* HELLO?!"

Super Mario Bros 3

To be honest, I was pretty impressed with all the old Nintendo games. But Super Mario 3 blew my mind away. My brain couldn't grasp the sheer amount of different worlds/levels. I loved all the secrets in the game. I loved the animation. Up until Super Mario 3, all the other games seemed repetitive, but this game offered so much variety. My parents and Jodi also loved the game. I remember all of us sitting on the bed in their master bedroom, laughing and playing for hours.

Compact Discs

I first heard about CDs from Jodi. I think it was her high school Spanish teacher who had a CD player, and she excitedly told me all about it. She described this "disc thing" that you could put in the player, and you "didn't have to REWIND or FAST-FORWARD to get to your song." I was dumbfounded. I could not imagine sticking a disc in and just being able to press the number of the song you wanted. The first CD I saw with my own eyes was at our friend Scott's house. It was "The Cranberries." I picked up the CD and gently held it up, letting it reflect the light. I thought it was the prettiest, most modern thing I had ever seen in my life.

I MISS loving technology. I wonder if anyone else feels this way?

Jamais Vu

Most people are accustomed with the term"déjà vu," which is the feeling or sensation that an unfamiliar/novel experience has been experienced before in the past. Many people, however, are not familiar with its opposite, "jamais vu", which is the feeling that something that should be familiar is actually unfamiliar. According to Wikipedia:

Jamais vu involves a sense of eeriness and the observer's impression of seeing the situation for the first time, despite rationally knowing that he or she has been in the situation before...Jamais vu is most commonly experienced when a person momentarily does not recognise a word, person, or place that he or she already knows...

I only bring this up because I have been experiencing this lately!

 Or am I just losing my brain cells?

Incident 1: I have an opal necklace that I frequently wear (Jeremy bought it for me as a graduation present). A couple weeks ago, a coworker admired the necklace,and asked if it was opal. I hesitated, because suddenly, I was no longer sure it was an opal. Part of me rationally knew that it HAD to be, but it just seemed....wrong. I kept thinking opal sounded like the wrong stone, and every time I said or thought of the word, it generated an image of a fake pearl. For days afterwards, I tried to recall exactly what the name of the stone was, even though my brain kept screaming, It's OPAL you moron!!!

Incident 2: My favorite news anchor is Shepard Smith. Although I don't get to listen to his program that often (it conflicts with my work schedule), he has been my favorite news anchor for several years now. During the aftermath of the recent Boston terrorist attack, I was listening to the news in my car, and the news reporter stated, "And now we take you to Shepard Smith, who is in Boston..." Suddenly, "Smith" sounded incredibly mistaken. In that moment, I had the feeling that his last name HAD to be something else, because it couldn't be "Smith."

Incident 3: I was in the car (again), listening to the radio. The song "Bittersweet Symphony" came on, and that's when this jamais vu crap hit me again. I was mentally snagged on the word "bittersweet." This time, it actually was a good feeling though. I was turning the word around in my head, marveling over the simplicity of it, and wondering why the English language didn't jam other contradictory words together, like "darkbright" or "nearfar."

This feeling has hit me several times even prior to these incidences (which I believe is the case for many people). I remember several years ago, when I had been up writing an essay for hours, I suddenly started to doubt the spelling of the word "the." In that moment, I was convinced I was misspelling it. I also recall a couple times repeating a word out loud over and over and OVER until the word lost its meaning and I started to doubt whether the word even existed. Wikipedia describes this as "brain fatigue".

Well, one word that I will never find unfamiliar is the word "mattress." I plan on collapsing on it.......right now.

Aggressive Patients

Two evenings ago, I was going to write about Monday, but I decided to wait a little bit because I didn't want to push Jodi's post down too soon. Especially considering her house is being devoured by vicious wood-eating beasts.

SO...Monday. I was running a Training & Education group ("D" group, our lowest functioning patients), and Otis was there. He was decompensating badly. Of course the eye brow plucking, breath holding, and intense staring were present, but this was FAR worse. Otis was staring at me with his fists clenched so tightly, they were trembling. His face was turning bright red, and he was seething. He was shaking, saying over and over, "I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you....." Then he got up and stood right by me, trembling and posturing himself as if he were going to hit me. But he appeared as if he were trying to stop himself. His muscles were tense and he appeared SO tortured...I have never seen anything like it. I am thinking, Holy shit, he wants to take me DOWN.

This is probably the first time in my job that I actually felt in danger of physical harm. I knew, without any doubt, that Otis could physically attack me at any moment. And much to my dismay, the two patients that I am certain would instantly defend me against such an attack were not present that day in the group (one of them is Mr. Scorpion, who was still on the inpatient side). I gazed around, in an attempt to quickly identify my allies. To my right was Thelma*, cradling her rag doll. Next to her was Lucy, mumbling to herself and applying her lipstick all over her face. Straight ahead was Polly, sitting there calmly with a serene smile on her face, one hand casually draped over her walker. And next to HER was Andrew, who was rambling non-stop about how "the fertilized female wasp enters the fig through the SCION" blah blah blah...This wasn't looking so good.

My mind was racing, but I kept my voice calm, and I said, "Otis,are you okay?" He didn't answer, except to murmur rapidly under his breath. I said, "I can tell you are really struggling with something right now, and I'm so sorry you are going through this....I want you to go out on the patio and try to relax for a little bit." He glared at me, then appeared to be experiencing some internal battle. He flung open the group room door, charged out the room, slammed the door so violently the wall shook, and yelled some curse words.

The moment he left the room, I felt a surge of relief, and I left too (now that I had access to the exit), so I could let my supervisor know what was going on. I was hoping he could be walked over to A&R and assessed for inpatient hospitalization (since he so obviously wasn't taking his meds). I grabbed my cellphone on the way back to the group room, because I had decided to completely blow off my training & ed exercise, and just play some music. My nerves were a little rattled, and the D group loves listening to Oldies (Thelma's favorite song in the world is "I Only Have Eyes for You", which reminds her of her deceased husband).

This is when things got even more bizarre. While I am in group, I happen to see my coworker through the window out in the parking lot looking distressed. I see Otis out there, but he is minding his own business now. There is an ambulance worker with my coworker. Then I see our outpatient RN running out there. What is going on?

It turns out, while my supervisor, the O/P clerk and RN were trying to figure out what to do with Otis, my coworker (I'll call her "C") was physically attacked by a different patient. Apparently, this patient stormed out of C's group, and C followed her to the parking lot to make sure she was okay (we have to check on the safety of all of our patients before they go). When C got to the parking lot, the patient charged her like a bull, and kicked her several times. For no reason. What is so strange is we all know this patient well, and she is typically friendly, cooperative, and cheerful. I was stunned.

What followed was a freakin' fiasco. The patient flew into a rage, and nobody could even approach her. The cops were called, and much of the staff was out there. Meanwhile, all the groups had let out, and the vans had shown up to take the patients home, but we couldn't let the patients out of the building because the patient was freaking out right outside the patio door, so they were all crowding the halls. Even the patients who had driven their own vehicles could not be let out, because of the safety risks. During all this, my job was to guard the back door, to make sure none of the patients slipped out into the parking lot. Otis, who I had temporarily forgotten about, suddenly reappears, trying to push his way out. GREAT. Now I have to tell the guy who wanted to kill me ten minutes ago that he can't leave the building. When I told him though, he surprised me. He grinned and gave me two thumbs up. Umm...okay.

The vans had to be relocated, and the patients had to be escorted out past the gym, through a side door, and filed out by the swimming pool. After the outpatient wing was cleared out, I banged on the bathroom doors, shouting, "Anyone else still in here?" A voice pipes up,"I'm in here!" It was Margo, our CLUMSY, toothless patient who wears a Santa Claus shirt all months of the year. As I walk her out past the pool, I tell her, "I swear Margo, if you fall in this pool, you will never hear the end of it from me." She just laughed.

Eventually, the assaultive patient went inpatient (Unit 3). As far as Otis, he got discharged from our program.We found out that he has not taken his meds for a while now. He needs to be moved to a board and care, where his meds will be administered by staff. I guess he will be moving soon. Once he is med-compliant, he will be able to readmit into our program.

I am really bummed about this. I want Otis to come back soon. I know that sounds strange, but...I feel his actions on Monday were admirable. I had a flashback of a worksheet Otis filled out his first couple days here.The question was, "What bothers you the most?" Otis wrote down, "men who hit women." Now I feel like I understand why he wrote that. On Monday, there was a dark part of him that REALLY wanted to hurt me...but he fought that side of himself with all the strength he could muster. I admire Otis because on Monday, in his own way, he did what he could to protect me from himself.

*All names have been changed

Tell Your Voices to Stop Talking about Me

Jodi told me I have to post something (guess I have been slacking). Well....fine then!

My week has been such...drudgery. I am studying for this stupid test, and it is so BORING. Seriously, I would rather stare at the spiderweb on my ceiling (damn, I really need to get rid of that) than study. I have been trying to stick to this 14 week study plan, but I fell off the wagon while my sister-in-law was staying with us.

Last weekend, I took "Practice Test C', and scored poorly. I was supposed to score at least a 125, and I only scored a 113. I sent my results to "PsychPrep" for feedback, with the hope that a 113 wasn't that bad. This is the response I got: "Many students with such a score rebound well on D. However, when students score below 115 on Practice Test C, we strongly recommend the weekend workshop home study program (9 CDs, over 175 on-line questions, PowerPoint handouts)....the investment of $325 is very worthwhile." So now what I'm asking myself is: Do I really need to buy this, or is PsychPrep just trying to make more $$$? Do you know how many new outfits I could buy with $325?!

Work continues to be...unpredictable. We have a new patient who (during group) sits rigidly in his chair with a fixed stare, and he holds his breath. The first few days, I didn't say anything about him holding his breath, because I wanted him to get acclimated to outpatient before I started confronting him. Now, when he holds his breath, I say, "Otis*, you're holding your breath again." He exhales loudly and GASPS, "No I'm not." Otis also pulls out his eyebrow hairs. Yesterday, Otis got into an argument with another patient (the one who thinks he was stung by a giant scorpion woman), so he plucked some of his eyebrow hairs out and flung them at Scorpion guy (Mr.Scorpion did not like this, and responded by threateningly showing Otis his gang tattoo).

One more thing about Otis: His auditory hallucinations talk about me. I know this makes me sound like I'M paranoid and should be admitted, but I KNOW that his voices are talking about me. When I'm running his group, Otis looks at me intently, then his gaze goes inward (you can tell he is responding to internal stimuli), and he starts smiling or giggling as his gaze lands on me again. I wonder what his voices are saying? Or do I even want to know? This is what I hope they are saying: "Wow, what a remarkable and clever therapist she is....we are learning SUCH FABULOUS coping strategies right now." Unfortunately, I don't think this is the case.

Sadly, Mr. Scorpion had to be admitted inpatient today. His ex attacked him last night in the form of a giant scorpion. He retaliated by hitting her with his"private parts" and then he felt a scorpion tail protruding from his chest. I feel SO bad for him, because this is so real to him. He hasn't had to go inpatient since September of last year,and he is in bad shape right now. I'm going to visit him over on Unit 3 tomorrow.

*Name has been changed

P.S.The Boston and Texas tragedies are greatly occupying my mind. I wrote this post, in part, to get my mind on something else for a while. I do wonder, however, how my friend Kristyn is handling the West, Texas tragedy (which is in her neck of the woods).

Hope all is well Kristyn.

Unit 3

I had to go to a funeral today in Tumbleweed (Jodi was there too), and I really REALLY hate funerals, so I don't want to write about it.

This week was exhausting (my sister in law is staying with us for a couple weeks), but work was actually really good. Somehow I managed to catch up with all my treatment plans, and we had a great potluck on Friday. Actually, my department has the most amazing potlucks. It is such a critical element of working in our department, I'm surprised that "bringing yummy potluck dishes" isn't explicitly stated as part of the job criteria to be employed there.

I DID have a family session on Unit 3 that started a little awkwardly. Just for a little background, Unit 3 is our most acute unit, and houses the patients who are either actively psychotic, or they are such a threat to themselves/others that they require extra monitoring. It is not uncommon for me to walk onto this unit and see a female patient running around topless, another patient singing at the top of his lungs, and yet another patient asking me if I could go find his missing kidney. Rarely do I have to facilitate family meetings on this unit because the patients usually aren't oriented enough to participate.

This meeting was with a 20 year old Schizophrenic and his parents.When I walked the parents onto the unit, they were immediately approached by a polite and attractive male. He addressed them confidently, shaking their hands, saying, "Hi! I'm Dr.Johnson. I'm sure you have many concerns. What's going on?" Immediately their faces lit up, and they started rapidly disclosing background information about their son. I'm tapping on the mom's shoulder and trying to make eye contact with them as I'm frantically shaking my head. Finally I tugged at the mom's sleeve.She looked at me,and I quietly said,"He's NOT a doctor." She looked confused for a second, and then she spotted the hospital wristband on the man's arm."Ohhhh," she said, as she slowly backed away. Guess you have to get used to Unit 3.

Other than that, the rest of the workweek went well. I still have patients who think they were stung by a "giant scorpion woman" back in 1985, or that the government planted a fax machine in their butt. But that is all pretty typical. I am really fond of the patients.They have a beautiful, childlike demeanor to them, and they always make me smile.

Tomorrow, we are going to Tumbleweed to visit my parents for a belated Easter celebration. The best part? My Dad always buys me Cadbury Eggs!!!

Easter, Ducks, Tortoises & Such

I feel like I HAVE to write a post tonight, just to assert myself as 1/2 owner of "Tumbleweeds & Pinecones". Jodi wrote the "Welcome" post and her "Easter" post...so unless I write something pronto, I have zero presence on this blog.

Not that it's a competition, but Jodi's Easter sounds better than mine. Jer and I (and the kids) were supposed to go to my parent's house, but that got nixed because my stepsister just gave birth to twin girls, so my parents had to make an unplanned road trip up to Northern California. We visited my mother-in-law yesterday, which for me is always an exercise in fortitude. A visit with her typically involves high levels of endurance and moderate amounts of alcohol.

On the bright side, I got to hold a desert tortoise.

If I wasn't at my mother-in-law's house, I probably would have smiled a LITTLE more.

To my mother-in law's credit, she did have a cute Easter set-up for the kids. She also gave them a lot of Easter gifts/candy.  

My brother-in-law showed up for a little bit with his children, so that was a lot of fun for the kiddos.

Did I mention he has a bazillion kids?

The part of Saturday that I did enjoy was the "Duck Derby." Every year, Pinecone spends the month prior to Easter selling tickets for $5 each, and the proceeds go to pay for our town's "4th of July" fireworks show.The purchaser of the ticket gets to "adopt a duck" for the duck derby. Oh, yeah, they are rubber ducks. All the rubber duckies have numbers on them that correspond to the tickets. The ducks are shot down a water slide into the lake, and if your duck is the first to get to the finish line, you win $1,000. 2nd place gets $500, and 3rd place gets $250.

Every year, the race is actually kinda pathetic and anticlimactic. The rubber ducks kinda bob around aimlessly, and they are pretty slow. Many of them get stuck in the water slide, or start drifting out of the racing area. You can't see the numbers on the ducks, so you have no idea whether yours is winning or not. Still, it is the silliest thing....to see hundreds of Pineconians show up every year to cheer on their rubber ducks. I just love it. And hell, it helps pay for our fireworks, so what's not to love?

Easter morning was actually pretty good.We awoke to the little ones squealing happily after finding their Easter baskets.Then we had an Easter egg hunt in our front yard, and the weather was beautiful.

The downside of the day was I had to study. Every Sunday, I spend about 8-10 hours studying for the EPPP (it's the first of two tests I have to take to become licensed as a psychologist). I could have skipped studying today, but that would have put me a week behind (hard to explain, but I am on this strict 14 week studying schedule....if I deviate from it, it messes me up big time, because I am a hopeless procrastinator who finds it nearly impossible to study). I really became discouraged today because I failed my practice quiz, and I couldn't focus. And I didn't WANT to focus. I wanted to go to the park and binge-eat on peeps & jelly beans.

Jer DID made us a delicious Easter dinner of tri-tip roast with baby potatoes and carrots. It was REALLY good.

Just for the heck of it, here is the tortoise again.

P.S Jodi, How did you do that cute name thingie after your post?!

P.S.S.  Never mind.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

It's been SO long since I have written!!! Almost 2 months I think! I am the worst blogger roomie EVER. 

I can explain, really! I graduated in October (the day I have eagerly anticipated for the last 3 years), and I didn't write about that. Then my father in law went to jail (AGAIN), and my sister law stayed with us for a while, and I didn't write about that either. Thanksgiving was nice (didn't write about that), some pretty crazy things happened at work (didn't write any of that), and there was some family drama with the in laws (you get the idea). The longer I went without writing in the blog, the more it started to feel like this massive, rapidly growing pile of laundry that needed to be folded. 

Okay, I can almost hear my sister exclaiming, "That is the most pathetic and crappiest explanation Shan!" Oh well.

In order to acclimate myself to writing again, I'll just write about this past weekend. Jer and I made a Thanksgiving feast over the weekend. Even though it was the week after Thanksgiving, we made a 26 lb. turkey ("we" being Jer...I made the stuffing). This is the third year we have made a Thanksgiving feast after the actual holiday. We have our real Thanksgiving at my parents house, but we like to have our own too because it gives us a fridge full of leftovers. Oh! I tried turkey heart. Jer kinda dared Cass to try a piece, so then I tried a piece. It was...ew. Ugh. Gross. I washed it down with a glass of milk. It didn't beat or anything. 

We also put our Christmas tree up and decorated the house. Oh, and Jer made Turkey gumbo. And then we watched the entire 1st season of "How I Met Your Mother." 

Okay, hopefully this gets me in the writing mood again. :-)

Slacking

OMGsh, so much is happening, and I haven't been writing about any of it! Ever since Jo and I decided to start a new blog, I kinda mentally checked out of this one. Her recent posts seem kind of half assed as well, so I am wondering if she is feeling the same way. 

My degree posted this week! My transcripts state my graduation date as 08/19/2012. I can't begin to describe the elation and relief I feel. When I passed my defense, I was happy, but not like this. I was still worried about all the dissertation forms, internship forms, copy & editing, etc...And even when everything was turned in, there was STILL doubt. I kept thinking that there was NO WAY I was finished with it all. Even today, I still get the feeling that I missed SOMETHING, but then I remind myself that the degree has posted, and this is real. I feel giddy.

My graduation is 2 weeks from today. Since I have no class or graduation etiquette, I messed up my graduation invitations. Last Sunday, I sat down and addressed/stamped them all. I was proud of myself, because I don't normally mail...anything (typically, I would have just sent everyone a text or FB message or something). When I was done with the invites, I noticed there was a whole bunch of extra envelopes. It turns out I was supposed to put the invitations in the smaller envelopes and stuff those into the larger envelopes. Instead I stuck them in the smaller envelopes and mailed them.

Jer and I had our 7th wedding anniversary last Monday. I totally forgot about it until I glanced at my calendar at work. So I left work early that day to try and find Jer a present, but all I found was a jug of chocolate, cherry & almond chunks. I figured he had forgotten too, so I wasn't expecting much, but he actually surprised me. I've been saying for a while that I really want to learn how to make jewelry. He bought me a large craft box filled with all the materials and tools to do this. Even better, he filled EVERY drawer with a variety of beads that he picked out himself. I was thrilled! 

Jo and I also turned 34 since I last wrote in this. We went to the LA County Fair with our hubbies and our parents. I really love the fair! My parents let Jo and I pick out a birthday present. I picked out a baby pomegranate bonsai tree. So much else to write, but I am too lazy!   ~~Shannon 

Good suggestion. :)

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