Love is one of those amorphous philosophical concepts that is hard to describe, understand conceptualize, talk or think about. In some of my reading for an online class, I came across a chapter in the textbook about many models and ways to think about love. A few of them caught my eye and interest:
The Greek Model.
In Greek, there are six different types of love…
Eros- passion, commitment, and physical attraction (“we were meant for each other!”)
Ludus- less commited style; love is a game to be played with numerous partners (“I love to love.”)
Mania- obsessiveness, possessiveness, jealousy.
Pragma- practical loving; partners chosen according to carefully established set of criteria.
Agape- needs of the lover put before one’s own needs
Storge- love based on strong and enduring friendship
I have to admit, I’m a hopeless, helpless romantic. I love to be in love (not in a ludus way). I think I’m a helpless Eros. I would be better off if I would let reason and previously established criteria pick my partners, but this rarely is the case with me. I don’t know. Many of these seem to apply in almost a hierarchy of love-needs. Eros first, because first and foremost I am a passionate, committed lover. Agape style comes with that for me- I will always sacrifice myself for those I love. Storge applies third because my lover usually becomes my best friend. Pragma only in the sense that I have cut-off or rule-outs. Interesting if not particularly insightful.
The Chemistry of Love Model.
Medical science suggests a model called the chemistry of love…
In this model there are four basic principles organized step-wise which explain the process of falling and being in love. First, genetics, psychological experiences, and evolution imprint us with a basic set of attraction criteria. This first step is called imprinting. Second, phenylethylamine, dopamine and norepinephrine, natural amphetimines in the brain, produce feelings of euphoria and elation. This step is called attraction, and can last two to three years before it starts to wane. Third, endorphins flow into the brain leaving the lovers with a sense of security, peace and calm. This stage, attachment, represents the state of being in love. Fourth, the infamous brain chemical of love and sex, oxytocin, is released by the brain’s pituitary gland which produces more relaxed feelings, and a sense of satisfaction and attachment. Oxytocin is also called the “cuddle chemical” for these reasons.
Many if not all of us have spent a significant portion of our lives asking “why this” and “why that” about love. At least these models help me bring some sense to the crazy world of love- maybe they will help you, too! Next time you are falling in love, you can either id your “love type” or track the brain chemicals at fault. Not so easy to explain falling out of love, though chemically losing all those endorphins and adrenaline is painful. Ask any drug user all about it? (Another interesting model is the addictions model of love extrapolating the withdrawal concept to rebounding etc. A bit of a stretch to me, but interesting, nonetheless).
Some say love is dying out from dating and intimacy; romanticism is becoming an increasingly rare point of view. I tend to agree. Some of the wonderful mystique of love and intimacy between couples these days is ruined and replaced by conflicting and/or negative ideas about gender differences, sexual thrills and emphasis on instant and self-gratification (i.e “me” over “we”). Ever watch a historical movie and wish for that romance again? I was watching Casanova today, and I wished for that time again (some parts of it). Even though Casanova was rakish or what have you, I could’ve enjoyed that kind of courtship. What am I saying. I have my very own, modern-day, Don Juan (minus the conquests? you get the idea!)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Travel Diary of my 10ish Day Trip to Nicaragua
I kept a small journal with me to record daily my adventures in Nicaragua. Maybe from reading my small anecdotes I can take you with me for a few minutes to the beautiful tropical country...
to share sooner these were typed in haste so please excuse my typos...
Saturday, May 30, 2009 (Maryland, USA to Managua, Nicaragua)
Woke up 3am left for BWI by 330. Took the Econopark bus (pay me for advertising!) from the lot where we parked Mario's BMW to the BWI airport terminal. Plane left 6am. Lugged one roller board and my one "personal item" around the airport and onto the plane. Slept on Mario's shoulder. Plane landed 9am in Miami (your- ami?) Called my sister because we were in the same state. Waited with Mario in Miami terminal until our connection flight left at 1pm for Managua. Plane was a HUGE A330 airbus (first plane I ever rode with 2 aisles and 3 rows of seats!) Slept on Mario's shoulder. Arrive in Managua 2 1/2 hours later which is 130pm Managua time. Went through thermoscanner testing body temperature as part of swine flu screening and you could see the outline of my underwear through my dress (when we arrived there were no documented cases of swine flu in Nicaragua- the first case was documented a few days later in a trucker's daughter). Mario made jokes about people with nipple rings and other piercings to be discovered by the scanner. Customs, immigration; Mario's family (2 sisters Jessly and Jessica, Mom and grandparents) met us at the gate and dropped us with luggage at Mario's tio's Alvero y Carolina's beautiful condo/ 1-story town house. No airconditioning, all doors and windows open- typical in Nicaragua. Beautiful patio. Went to lunch in an open-air restaurant with Mario's family. Ate carne asada. Went to Mario's mom's house, Patricia (Patty). Jessica and Jessly live there and share a tiny room. Jessly showed me things she bought for the wedding and her favorite shoes. Jessica made us cake and brought us sweet tea. Went to an outdoor mall to buy gift for Abuela for mother's day, that day (different date in Nicaragua than the states- and a very important celebratory holiday). Went with Patty and 2 sisters to Abuela's house and met extended family and friends for the celebration. Tired and hot (no airconditioning anywhere, 90* F). Attempted to talk to Mario's uncles, aunts and friends in Spanish. Left late back to Carolina y Alvero's to sleep. You can hear many bugs chirping at night through the open windows and little lizards living on the warm stone walls inside the houses. They make smooching sounds.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 (Managua a Montelimar)
Woke up to a chorus of birds, many of which I never heard before. Packed a small bag, then sat outside on Carolina y Alvaro's back patio and ate breakfast. They drink a delicious chocolate/coco drink here. Saw black birds with yellow breasts. Met Alvaro y Carolina's parrot. Drove to Patty's house and picked up Jessica. Left for Barcel`o hotel at Montelimar beach. Drive was one hour. Roads a mess. After awhile they were made of concrete bricks. Better condition but very bumpy. Saw lots of poverty on the drive. Road shared by people walking, in wagons, on bikes, on horseback, with chickens, cows, sheep, and huge bulls (ox?) pulling carts, stray starving dogs straggling everywhere. Thin and dilapidated or improvised houses along the way- many have no electricity or running water (most probably don't, by the looks). Very humble people with very little means. Saw women and children bathing in a river. Arrive to hotel. Check-in and eat lunch. Relaxed in a hammock between two almond trees on the beach. Dozed-off listening to Mario and Jessica catch-up. Went and checked out our cabanas. Changed into swim suits. Relaxed in the pool. Walked down the beach and played in the surf. Watched the sun set. Watched at least 20 crabs scurrying across the sand. Went back to the cabanas and changed for dinner. Walked to dinner. While I am up filling my plate at buffet a woman comes by the table and tells Mario and Jessica to ask me to participate in the Miss Barcel`o contest that evening at 9p. Reluctantly I agree. Rush back to cabana to fix hair. Back to restaurant/casino/pavilion for contest. Don't participate because I am the only gringa and don't speak enough Spanish. Watch the contest anyway. Walk back to cabanas late stopping along the way to watch the moon and distant lightning reflecting on the ocean. Back at the cabanas I showered and collapsed into the giant bed.
Monday, June 1, 2009 (Montelimar a Managua)
Wake up 9am-ish. Dress and pack up my suitcase. While I'm preparing Jessica arrives. She, Mario and I go to breakfast. After breakfast (which was at an open-air restaurant on the beach) we return to the cabanas and put on bathing suits. We go straight to the beach. Play in the surf. Then back to the hammocks. I snooze more to the chatter of two siblings. We rush to check out of our rooms then go to the pool. We have spanglish conversations about everything and try to help Mario swim. We leave the pool and change into dry clothes for lunch. We eat at the same open-air, beach side restaurant. During lunch we spot some distant rocks on the beach. After lunch we walk out to explore them. On the way I look for and find beautiful shells and a sand dollar- gifts for my mom. Lots of little crabs- hermit crabs, sand crabs, etc- scurry around. Standing pools of water by the rocks hold little fish. On the way back, we take a different route and find at the resort two huge red/yellow/blue parrots. After cooing at them I open my eyes enough to see also two green parrots and a toucan!!! Finally I'm pried away from the birds. We walk back to the hotel and leave. In the hotel (remember no AC) there are stairs and an elevator. We always take the stairs because imagine a tiny, packed, no-AC elevator. Mario and Jessica call it the "microondas." Drive back to Managua. Same sights on the drive back. I take pictures of a herd of cows in our path. A man walks down the road past bulls tied and tagged for sale. One lunges at the man- doesn't attack. Scares the guy. We laugh. Mario drives me around the city showing me sights. We stop at a military base on the highest point of the city (which less than a week after was attacked by killer African bees sending 70-ish people to the hospital) to watch the sun set. We drive to Patty's house to drop off Jessica. No one's home. Drive back to Carolina y Alvaro's. Meet the maid and talk for awhile (as in many Latin American countries, it's standard for even middle and lower middle class families to have live-in maids from the lower classes) with Carolina. After awhile I feel overwhelmed by all the Spanish and excuse myself to shower (no hot water in the showers here because 90*F no AC- I still don't like cold showers). After, the maid has made me dinner and Patty has arrived. We all talk. I try my first zapote fruit- it is pink with a huge pit and tastes like pumpkins. We plan a trip for the next two days to a coffee farm in the mountains called Selva Negra. Jessica y Patty leave. The rest of us go to bed. I am writing to the sounds of many insects, a few birds, and the kissing lizards.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009 (Managua a Matagalpa)
Woke up to the bird chorus and a very confused rooster around 7am. Carolina's maid prepared us breakfast of eggs revueltos con tomates, arroz frijoles (gallo pinto) and freshly made tortillas. Packed another small suitcase and left with Mario around 9a for Matagalpa a la Selva Negra; a 5th generation German owned coffee farm in the mountains. The drive was different because it was on a road used by truckers coming from Honduras. Small and pretty towns and beautiful landscape during the 2 1/2 hour drive. The end was straight up the mountain, then through a 1km dirt road- the only road in and out of Selva Negra. We arrived and checked in. We stayed at a tiny, moss and vine covered caban~a nestled in the jungle on the farm's property. You can hear birds, frogs, monkeys y mas aqui. We wandered around and took pictures or the beautiful and romantic land. Then we went horseback riding around the farm and jungle with a local guide. It was my first time on a horse!! I loved it. It was so beautiful, wild and peaceful. After the horses, we ate lunch at an open air cafe over the lake. I had the Nica-German salchichas y jugo de maricuya (frutas de calala y azucar-calalas son nativos de Nicaragua). After lunch we went back to ride horses again. I rode a different horse which was brown and white and necio y traigon tambien. This time I rode free of the help of the guide. The ride was some mountain trails, some horse trails, and some dirt road. We saw goats, baby cows, and chickens along the way. Mario and the guide chatted about post-communist regime and war during the '80s- the mountains we were in were battleground then. Many locals were forced into fighting for the communists- basically thrown into the front lines as targets to protect the trained communist soldiers. Two of Mario's uncles were recruited for this and amazingly survived, but are "changed" from the horrors they saw and experienced. The guide lost many friends. We returned from the horse ride just in time for the rain to start. The rainy season-now- is considered winter in Nicaragua, even though temp is always 80-90*F. It is cooler -70s- up here in the mountains. We dashed back to the cabana and snuggled up to wait out the rain to a chorus of monkeys in the nearby jungle. We woke up in time for dinner and ate at the same open-air cafe. We laughed at the European tourists there trying to get online with their Macbooks. There is nothing to do up here after dark, so we went back to the cabana and managed to find one clear TV channel showing Nicaraguan news. Nicaraguan news in uncensored-someone is shot, you see the dead body sprawled on the road- we saw such a shot during the evening news that night. Amazingly, the cabana has hot water (I really didn't have my hopes up here because the water runs fresh from the mountains) but it had hot water. My first hot shower yet!! I took a long one. Now I"m resting in one of the two rooms in the tiny cabana. Outside is nothing but jungle- it's una selva negra (muy, MUY negra). So peaceful and isolated nestled in this beautiful mountain. I am going to snuggle up under the old wool blanket on the small bed and read myself to sleep to the sounds of selva negra.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009 and through to morning, Thursday, June 4, 2009 (Matagalpa a Managua)
A little bit scary sleeping in the dark, remote jungle. Woke up early to grab breakfast at the lake restaurant before our scheduled tour of the farm. During breakfast I accidentally ate "queso de cabesa de cerdo" or basically pig brain cheese. Ugh. The tour left at 9am, and me, Mario and another blonde also named Cindy (in her 40s from Canada) went by van with the farm's owner on the tour. Lots of stores because his motto was "you learn more from anecdotal history." The farm is like it's own mini-society. Two hundred workers and their families live, work and go to school there. It was begun by the owner and his wife in the 70's (the resort part) and amazingly the communists left the farm alone during the revolution. The farm began with an Austrian woman who in the 1800s, rode into town alone with "one leg on either side of her horse." Scandalous! Her hard work and recruitment of other German, European and local families made the farm. Hence the blonde latinos with German ancestry in Matagalpa. Because of this mixing, notoriously beautiful women come from these mountains. Currently the farm is run by husband and wife and 4 other women. They are very advanced and giving their employees room and boar, salary and retirement. Special care is paid to raising self-esteem in the women on the farm and fighting machismo- 42% of the full time workers are female. They are given tasks that are specified for them because they are the best for that job, and specifying these tasks for women only help raise the women's self esteem. Special attention also on organizing events (i.e. sport events) to fill employee's free time and therefore reduce alcoholism. Really beautiful place. Not to mention the breathtaking mountainside the farm is nestled on. They do more than coffee including farming, raising pigs, and cattle. All food served on farm is fresh from the farm. Two hours later the tour ended. Mario and I decided to try our luck hiking through the jungle. The altitude, mud from yesterday's rain and otherwise treacherous path made it a tough climb up the mountain- and even tougher back down. At the top, the trail ended at a cliff- we stopped and took pictures before climbing back down again. After the hike we tried to get as much mud off of us as possible before stopping for lunch. After we ate it threatened to rain so we checked out of our cabana and began the drive home. More breathtaking countryside. We went back to Carolina y Alvaro's and showered and dressed for the evening. It was a 3 hour drive from Matagalpa back to Managua so after showering we were hungry again and ate the dinner the maid prepared us. That is when things started to get bad. The plan was to meet with Jessly and Jessica and go out to a club, but my stomach was feeling weird after dinner (even after the Pepto I took) so we went to their house and just hung out together with Patty, too. Towards the end of the night my stomach was really hurting bad so I had Mario take me back to Carolina's. None too soon. I lost everything in my body immediately in both directions. I spent the rest of the night sick and weak in the bathroom. By morning, Carolina (who is a doctor) had left to work but a worried Mario called her for advice- turns out I have some bacteria or parasite. I'm lying here sick as a dog while Mario scrambles to find me the anti-parasites, anti-nausea, rehydrating things Carolina says I need :(
Thursday, June 4, 2009 (Managua)
Sick day. Laid around Carolina's apartment until around 3pm when I got dressed for the civil ceremony for Jessly. The official plan was to go to the salon with Mario's abuela for nails and facial, then to the civil ceremony by 7p. Picked up Mario's abuela and went to the salon. Was waiting for nails and fading fast. Mario took me back to Abuela's house, skipping the salon, so I could lay on his abuela's bed where there was airconditioning and hopefully recover there for the civil ceremony by 7p. "La lloya", the family's parrot, was chattering outside the window saying "pobrecita la lloyita" and meowing like the cats that stalk her cage at night. I smile despite the pains in my stomach. At 630p Mario and Abuela get back from the salon and I still feel miserable. I concede the civil ceremony, and Mario drops me back at Carolina's to rest on his way to the ceremony. I fight off nausea and try to sleep. Around 12am I am poked awake and Mario launches into a story about the civil ceremony from hell. Aparently, and he had to retell me later, Patty, over a confusion over who was driving whom to the ceremony (cars are shared and people pick each other up etc) didn't arrive until an hour late. They held up the ceremony waiting, and finally started by 8pm. Shortly after the ceremony began, everyone already frustrated, the groom, Javier, passes out, hitting the table on the way to the ground. Chaos ensues while everyone rushes to his side and he is carried off to an empty room to recover. Half an hour later, he comes back and the ceremony begins again. Shortly after it resumes for the second time, a loud hissing emits from the main house (the ceremony is held in the back yard of Javier's mom's house) and someone comes running from the house yelling, "It's a gas leak! Everyone get away from the house!" Everyone goes running from the yard and down the street before the poor maid sent back to check finds out it's just a boiler leaking steam. After everyone is found and brought back to the yard, the ceremony begins for the third time. At this point the speaker is cut off by the audience yelling to him to just have Javier and Jessly sign the papers before something else can happen!! Bummer I missed that :( After being regaled with the excitement at the civil ceremony, I fight against the heat and pain in my stomach, struggling to go back to sleep, at least still with a smile on my face.
Friday, June 5, 2009 (Managua to Masaya y Catarina)
Woke up feeling much improved and decided to go to volcan Masaya y Catarina market. Picked-up Jessica and went to a grocery store for bottled water, gatorade, and safely prepackaged snacks for me to eat. Mario's while family is now rallying around how to take care of their gringa, and I"m hardly allowed to eat anything not bottled or packaged. Drove up to volcan Masaya. Lava rock everywhere. Masaya is an active volcano that erupted about 100 years ago. At the top we got out to look at its crater. The first thing I noticed was the smell. I can't describe it other than it was strong, maybe a little like sulphur, and you could feel it in your throat. Smoke and steam were pouring out of the crater- I guess it was that. Beautiful view. Since I was already weakened from being sick, I couldn't stay up there in the fumes for very long before feeling light headed, so we left after some pictures to Catarina. Catarina is a small artisian based city situated looking over a crater of an inactive volcano turned to a lake. It was a lovely town. A group of local young boys followed me around whistling and calling me "clase rubia" meaining big or tall blonde. Mario said they may not have seen a blonde before- wierd sticking out so much like this! Bought gifts from local artisians who were calling me "dura esta merchanta" or the tough customer- I guess I was picky. We had dress fitting for bridesmaids gowns and wedding dress rehearsal at 5p back in Managua, so we left Catarina with just enough time to get to the church for the rehearsal. The fitting and rehearsal were long and hot both- dominated by the bridezilla and drama. After those and a brief visit to the Abuelos, we found a pizza hut (I so badly wanted American food) and brought it back to Patty's house to eat with Mario, his mom, and his sisters. We had barely gobbled it down when Mario said, "ella esta cansada y inferma- nos vamos pues," or something to that effect, and we rushed out. Come to find out the Spanish conversation I wasn't following while gobbling my pizza was Jessly complaining and bridezilla-ing, and Mario had had enough. Back to Carolina's to sleep and snuggle up after a long day. There is a crazy rooster here added to the menagerie of night sounds that totally must be blind. It's hot- I miss AC and American food (and American driving- you should see the drivers and roads here in Managua!)
Saturday, June 6, 2009 (Managua- wedding mayhem)
Bridezilla part two. Woke up around 8am. Picked up breakfast and went to Patty's house. Ate breakfast with Jessica and Patty while Mario worked on their computers. Dozed until 12pm then left with Jessica and Mario to the hair salon. The salon was a nightmare for the civil ceremony day making everyone late- but I took heart today because I got worked on right away- so I thought. Rolled my hair in pin curlers and then sent me to wait. Two hours later still waiting and un cuchon says, "voy a maquillarte." I think, "great- my first professional makeover!" He takes me to a side room for thirty minutes working on his masterpeice before putting a mirror in front of my face. !Que horror! I looked like a drag queen, clown, totem-pole, middle-school art project freak. In the meantime my stylist looks for me, I'm MIA, so he moves on to someone else. It is after 3p and we were suppsed to be at the dressmaker by 3p for finishing touches on the dresses. I told the "artist" to take it all off (the makeup) and by the time my hair was done it was almost 4p. At least the hair looked ok. We left for the dressmakers'. None of the dresses for the six bridesmaids are done yet. It is 4p on the day of the 7p wedding and the dresses are not yet sewn. Ridiculous. I'm told mine will be ready in an hour so Mario finds us some late lunch then runs us to a nearby different salon to have someone else do my makeup again. The makeup artists all commented on my big blue eyes and in 15 minutes I was done. Still a bit heavy for my taste, but everyone loved it so I smiled and thanked them. Back by 5p to dressmaker, back to Carolina's to change by 6pm- Mario is set to arrive at the wedding with the bride by 630p and he isn't dressed yet. Tuxedo pieces fly on his way out the door- he has to meet Jessly at the hotel and arrive with her to walk her down the aisle. At 6:57p Mario's abuelos finally arrive at Carolina's to pick me up and run me to the church- luckily we still arrive before the bride. I'm shoved towards the other bridesmaids and a boquet of lillies are thrust into my hands. Three bridesmaids of six didn't make it because their dresses weren't done yet. Bride arrives. I stick out as the only blonde in the processional and stand teary-eyed watching my sweetheart proudly walk his sister down the aisle and give her away. We sit together in the front row and the ceremony passes quickly- it was very beautiful. Recessional. Everyone crams into cars to go to the reception. They have good food but I am under strict Fuentes family regulations to only eat bread and rice. Dancing, music, fold dancers, live music, singing, celebrating and eating carry through the night until 2am. I dance with Mario and realize for the first time what a good dancer he is. I cut a rug wigh his aunts and Abuela (oh btw, did I mention also blubber all over myself while snapping pictures of Mario having the first dance with his sister? He is not just a son and brother but also father to his sisters and support to his mom. Beautiful to see how much they all love each other). Tired and hot, Mario and I leave the reception and get home to Carolina's around 3am. Little lizards skitter around on the walls kissing the air goodnight.
Sunday, June 7, 2009 (Managua)
Got up around 10am this morning and managed to stomach huevos revueltos for breakfast. A lunch for the new couple is scheduled by the groom's family at their house at 1p. Mario and I go to his mom's and he works on computers again. We don't get out the door to the lunch until 2p. Start times seem farily relative here. Again I am restricted on food- this time by Jessly- to bread and cheese and a warm can of soda (no ice) for lunch. We spend the afternoon between the party and the bride's mom's house (Patty). Coming and going to parties is quite an ordeal here- kissing everyone hello and goodbye. It's sweet and warming though, and I like it. The party is- like everything in Nicaragua- outdoors or "indoors," which is in the house with all doors and windows open to the feel of an American patio. I spend the afternoon working on my Spanish. Later we return again and stay late at Mario's mom's for more computer work, getting back to Carolina's 11-ish. I scarf a late-night dinner of a can of Campbell's soup, a welcome change from all the break and crackers. I collapse into sleep, too tired to pack yet.
Monday, June 8, 2009 (Managua to Miami)
The plan today is to leave Nicaragua at 1:30p and arrive at Baltimore 11-ish p. We wake early and pack, and after thanking Carolina (Alvaro was not home) we leave for Mario's abuelos' house. We pick up his abuela and have her driver take us down the block to a local bakery called the Margarita for breakfast. We chat in the open-air cafe over pan dulce and drinks (I had a bottle of soda- actually cold this time). I ate una "oreja" y pan dulce con "sweet milk" which is caramel. I forgot the name of it but it was flaky, gooey, and delicious. We left around 11:30am to Abuela's house again. About noon Patty, Jessica and Jessly arrive to accompany us with his abuelos to the airport- a tration here for a big family send-off. The bride brings left-over wedding cake. She has been calling me her "cun~iz" which Mario told me is an affectionate way to say "sister-in-law," also slang for brother's girlfriend. Two cars of Fuentes leave with us to the airport. We check our bags then sit for drinks with Mario's family. After goodbye kisses and tears, Mario and I board the plane and leave Nicaragua. We arrive to Miami about 7pm (losing 2 hours to time zones). We were sitting by the emergency door on another A330 (ps- these are on the news as unsafe right now) and one of the flight attendants sat facing us during landing and take off and we were chatting with him before gettin goff the plane and joining the melee towards immigration. Turns out there was no rush. Mario and I seperated at immigration into "residents" and "citizens" lines, making faces at each other accross the crowd, arriving at our respective immigration officers at the same time. I get grilled but go through and pass just in time to hear his officer say "step aside." He gives me a confident smile and a shrug as I am pushed forward by the crowd. After passing the exit guard I wait at the top of the down escalator, eyes locked on Mario. I figure he has been randomly flagged for carry-on search or something (we don't have our full luggage yet). The exit officer sends me down the escalator and frustrated, I wait at the bottom now helpless and separated from my sweetheart. I stand as our while flight followed by captain and crew clear immigration and descend the escalator. I start to panic. An hour passes. I fight back tears and waves of panic. Somehow I have the presence of mind to hear someone announce in Spanish to pick up baggage at claim eight to clear cultoms and they are starting to confiscate remaining bags. I tear my eyes off the escalator and rush to the baggage claim, hauling our four suitcases onto a hand cart, I run back to the escalator. Another hour. All that are left are me and a handful of other worried-looking people at the bottom of the escalator. We've already missed our connecting flight. A third hour ticks by. I start thinking of worst case scenerios. Another worried woman grills a passing guard who says he can tell her nothing. I am angered by my own helplessness. A flight from Haiti arrives and begins trickling through immigration and coming down the escalator. Finally, I see my Mario and run to him, leaving the luggage temporarily behind. We share a sweet moment and many kisses of relief. He had been held over an almost 2 year old traffic ticket. Exhausted and full of relief to be arm-in-arm, we trudge through customs and to the American Airlines missed flight counter, temporarily ignoring the significance of the discrimination we both just suffered from (especially him, pobrecito). Next flight to Balitmore tomorrow at 12p. We change tickets, recheck bags, feed our growling stomachs and take a shuttle to a nearby hotel. I collapsed into fitful sleep, waking often and feeling scared forgetting where I was.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009 (Miami to Baltimore)
(written in airport before safe arrival home to Baltimore):
An unexpected 11th day of our trip. After grabbing the hotel's continental breakfast and checking out we shuttled back to the airport. I'm at our departure gate now waiting to board, ready to be home. Work and kennel have been called and upon arrival to Baltimore around 3p, I have a puppy to pick-up and the rest of the day to rest, and reflect upon my travels.
Hopefully once I have had time to digest, I will be able to write a follow-up blog summarizing my thoughts on this amazing trip!!!
to share sooner these were typed in haste so please excuse my typos...
Saturday, May 30, 2009 (Maryland, USA to Managua, Nicaragua)
Woke up 3am left for BWI by 330. Took the Econopark bus (pay me for advertising!) from the lot where we parked Mario's BMW to the BWI airport terminal. Plane left 6am. Lugged one roller board and my one "personal item" around the airport and onto the plane. Slept on Mario's shoulder. Plane landed 9am in Miami (your- ami?) Called my sister because we were in the same state. Waited with Mario in Miami terminal until our connection flight left at 1pm for Managua. Plane was a HUGE A330 airbus (first plane I ever rode with 2 aisles and 3 rows of seats!) Slept on Mario's shoulder. Arrive in Managua 2 1/2 hours later which is 130pm Managua time. Went through thermoscanner testing body temperature as part of swine flu screening and you could see the outline of my underwear through my dress (when we arrived there were no documented cases of swine flu in Nicaragua- the first case was documented a few days later in a trucker's daughter). Mario made jokes about people with nipple rings and other piercings to be discovered by the scanner. Customs, immigration; Mario's family (2 sisters Jessly and Jessica, Mom and grandparents) met us at the gate and dropped us with luggage at Mario's tio's Alvero y Carolina's beautiful condo/ 1-story town house. No airconditioning, all doors and windows open- typical in Nicaragua. Beautiful patio. Went to lunch in an open-air restaurant with Mario's family. Ate carne asada. Went to Mario's mom's house, Patricia (Patty). Jessica and Jessly live there and share a tiny room. Jessly showed me things she bought for the wedding and her favorite shoes. Jessica made us cake and brought us sweet tea. Went to an outdoor mall to buy gift for Abuela for mother's day, that day (different date in Nicaragua than the states- and a very important celebratory holiday). Went with Patty and 2 sisters to Abuela's house and met extended family and friends for the celebration. Tired and hot (no airconditioning anywhere, 90* F). Attempted to talk to Mario's uncles, aunts and friends in Spanish. Left late back to Carolina y Alvero's to sleep. You can hear many bugs chirping at night through the open windows and little lizards living on the warm stone walls inside the houses. They make smooching sounds.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 (Managua a Montelimar)
Woke up to a chorus of birds, many of which I never heard before. Packed a small bag, then sat outside on Carolina y Alvaro's back patio and ate breakfast. They drink a delicious chocolate/coco drink here. Saw black birds with yellow breasts. Met Alvaro y Carolina's parrot. Drove to Patty's house and picked up Jessica. Left for Barcel`o hotel at Montelimar beach. Drive was one hour. Roads a mess. After awhile they were made of concrete bricks. Better condition but very bumpy. Saw lots of poverty on the drive. Road shared by people walking, in wagons, on bikes, on horseback, with chickens, cows, sheep, and huge bulls (ox?) pulling carts, stray starving dogs straggling everywhere. Thin and dilapidated or improvised houses along the way- many have no electricity or running water (most probably don't, by the looks). Very humble people with very little means. Saw women and children bathing in a river. Arrive to hotel. Check-in and eat lunch. Relaxed in a hammock between two almond trees on the beach. Dozed-off listening to Mario and Jessica catch-up. Went and checked out our cabanas. Changed into swim suits. Relaxed in the pool. Walked down the beach and played in the surf. Watched the sun set. Watched at least 20 crabs scurrying across the sand. Went back to the cabanas and changed for dinner. Walked to dinner. While I am up filling my plate at buffet a woman comes by the table and tells Mario and Jessica to ask me to participate in the Miss Barcel`o contest that evening at 9p. Reluctantly I agree. Rush back to cabana to fix hair. Back to restaurant/casino/pavilion for contest. Don't participate because I am the only gringa and don't speak enough Spanish. Watch the contest anyway. Walk back to cabanas late stopping along the way to watch the moon and distant lightning reflecting on the ocean. Back at the cabanas I showered and collapsed into the giant bed.
Monday, June 1, 2009 (Montelimar a Managua)
Wake up 9am-ish. Dress and pack up my suitcase. While I'm preparing Jessica arrives. She, Mario and I go to breakfast. After breakfast (which was at an open-air restaurant on the beach) we return to the cabanas and put on bathing suits. We go straight to the beach. Play in the surf. Then back to the hammocks. I snooze more to the chatter of two siblings. We rush to check out of our rooms then go to the pool. We have spanglish conversations about everything and try to help Mario swim. We leave the pool and change into dry clothes for lunch. We eat at the same open-air, beach side restaurant. During lunch we spot some distant rocks on the beach. After lunch we walk out to explore them. On the way I look for and find beautiful shells and a sand dollar- gifts for my mom. Lots of little crabs- hermit crabs, sand crabs, etc- scurry around. Standing pools of water by the rocks hold little fish. On the way back, we take a different route and find at the resort two huge red/yellow/blue parrots. After cooing at them I open my eyes enough to see also two green parrots and a toucan!!! Finally I'm pried away from the birds. We walk back to the hotel and leave. In the hotel (remember no AC) there are stairs and an elevator. We always take the stairs because imagine a tiny, packed, no-AC elevator. Mario and Jessica call it the "microondas." Drive back to Managua. Same sights on the drive back. I take pictures of a herd of cows in our path. A man walks down the road past bulls tied and tagged for sale. One lunges at the man- doesn't attack. Scares the guy. We laugh. Mario drives me around the city showing me sights. We stop at a military base on the highest point of the city (which less than a week after was attacked by killer African bees sending 70-ish people to the hospital) to watch the sun set. We drive to Patty's house to drop off Jessica. No one's home. Drive back to Carolina y Alvaro's. Meet the maid and talk for awhile (as in many Latin American countries, it's standard for even middle and lower middle class families to have live-in maids from the lower classes) with Carolina. After awhile I feel overwhelmed by all the Spanish and excuse myself to shower (no hot water in the showers here because 90*F no AC- I still don't like cold showers). After, the maid has made me dinner and Patty has arrived. We all talk. I try my first zapote fruit- it is pink with a huge pit and tastes like pumpkins. We plan a trip for the next two days to a coffee farm in the mountains called Selva Negra. Jessica y Patty leave. The rest of us go to bed. I am writing to the sounds of many insects, a few birds, and the kissing lizards.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009 (Managua a Matagalpa)
Woke up to the bird chorus and a very confused rooster around 7am. Carolina's maid prepared us breakfast of eggs revueltos con tomates, arroz frijoles (gallo pinto) and freshly made tortillas. Packed another small suitcase and left with Mario around 9a for Matagalpa a la Selva Negra; a 5th generation German owned coffee farm in the mountains. The drive was different because it was on a road used by truckers coming from Honduras. Small and pretty towns and beautiful landscape during the 2 1/2 hour drive. The end was straight up the mountain, then through a 1km dirt road- the only road in and out of Selva Negra. We arrived and checked in. We stayed at a tiny, moss and vine covered caban~a nestled in the jungle on the farm's property. You can hear birds, frogs, monkeys y mas aqui. We wandered around and took pictures or the beautiful and romantic land. Then we went horseback riding around the farm and jungle with a local guide. It was my first time on a horse!! I loved it. It was so beautiful, wild and peaceful. After the horses, we ate lunch at an open air cafe over the lake. I had the Nica-German salchichas y jugo de maricuya (frutas de calala y azucar-calalas son nativos de Nicaragua). After lunch we went back to ride horses again. I rode a different horse which was brown and white and necio y traigon tambien. This time I rode free of the help of the guide. The ride was some mountain trails, some horse trails, and some dirt road. We saw goats, baby cows, and chickens along the way. Mario and the guide chatted about post-communist regime and war during the '80s- the mountains we were in were battleground then. Many locals were forced into fighting for the communists- basically thrown into the front lines as targets to protect the trained communist soldiers. Two of Mario's uncles were recruited for this and amazingly survived, but are "changed" from the horrors they saw and experienced. The guide lost many friends. We returned from the horse ride just in time for the rain to start. The rainy season-now- is considered winter in Nicaragua, even though temp is always 80-90*F. It is cooler -70s- up here in the mountains. We dashed back to the cabana and snuggled up to wait out the rain to a chorus of monkeys in the nearby jungle. We woke up in time for dinner and ate at the same open-air cafe. We laughed at the European tourists there trying to get online with their Macbooks. There is nothing to do up here after dark, so we went back to the cabana and managed to find one clear TV channel showing Nicaraguan news. Nicaraguan news in uncensored-someone is shot, you see the dead body sprawled on the road- we saw such a shot during the evening news that night. Amazingly, the cabana has hot water (I really didn't have my hopes up here because the water runs fresh from the mountains) but it had hot water. My first hot shower yet!! I took a long one. Now I"m resting in one of the two rooms in the tiny cabana. Outside is nothing but jungle- it's una selva negra (muy, MUY negra). So peaceful and isolated nestled in this beautiful mountain. I am going to snuggle up under the old wool blanket on the small bed and read myself to sleep to the sounds of selva negra.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009 and through to morning, Thursday, June 4, 2009 (Matagalpa a Managua)
A little bit scary sleeping in the dark, remote jungle. Woke up early to grab breakfast at the lake restaurant before our scheduled tour of the farm. During breakfast I accidentally ate "queso de cabesa de cerdo" or basically pig brain cheese. Ugh. The tour left at 9am, and me, Mario and another blonde also named Cindy (in her 40s from Canada) went by van with the farm's owner on the tour. Lots of stores because his motto was "you learn more from anecdotal history." The farm is like it's own mini-society. Two hundred workers and their families live, work and go to school there. It was begun by the owner and his wife in the 70's (the resort part) and amazingly the communists left the farm alone during the revolution. The farm began with an Austrian woman who in the 1800s, rode into town alone with "one leg on either side of her horse." Scandalous! Her hard work and recruitment of other German, European and local families made the farm. Hence the blonde latinos with German ancestry in Matagalpa. Because of this mixing, notoriously beautiful women come from these mountains. Currently the farm is run by husband and wife and 4 other women. They are very advanced and giving their employees room and boar, salary and retirement. Special care is paid to raising self-esteem in the women on the farm and fighting machismo- 42% of the full time workers are female. They are given tasks that are specified for them because they are the best for that job, and specifying these tasks for women only help raise the women's self esteem. Special attention also on organizing events (i.e. sport events) to fill employee's free time and therefore reduce alcoholism. Really beautiful place. Not to mention the breathtaking mountainside the farm is nestled on. They do more than coffee including farming, raising pigs, and cattle. All food served on farm is fresh from the farm. Two hours later the tour ended. Mario and I decided to try our luck hiking through the jungle. The altitude, mud from yesterday's rain and otherwise treacherous path made it a tough climb up the mountain- and even tougher back down. At the top, the trail ended at a cliff- we stopped and took pictures before climbing back down again. After the hike we tried to get as much mud off of us as possible before stopping for lunch. After we ate it threatened to rain so we checked out of our cabana and began the drive home. More breathtaking countryside. We went back to Carolina y Alvaro's and showered and dressed for the evening. It was a 3 hour drive from Matagalpa back to Managua so after showering we were hungry again and ate the dinner the maid prepared us. That is when things started to get bad. The plan was to meet with Jessly and Jessica and go out to a club, but my stomach was feeling weird after dinner (even after the Pepto I took) so we went to their house and just hung out together with Patty, too. Towards the end of the night my stomach was really hurting bad so I had Mario take me back to Carolina's. None too soon. I lost everything in my body immediately in both directions. I spent the rest of the night sick and weak in the bathroom. By morning, Carolina (who is a doctor) had left to work but a worried Mario called her for advice- turns out I have some bacteria or parasite. I'm lying here sick as a dog while Mario scrambles to find me the anti-parasites, anti-nausea, rehydrating things Carolina says I need :(
Thursday, June 4, 2009 (Managua)
Sick day. Laid around Carolina's apartment until around 3pm when I got dressed for the civil ceremony for Jessly. The official plan was to go to the salon with Mario's abuela for nails and facial, then to the civil ceremony by 7p. Picked up Mario's abuela and went to the salon. Was waiting for nails and fading fast. Mario took me back to Abuela's house, skipping the salon, so I could lay on his abuela's bed where there was airconditioning and hopefully recover there for the civil ceremony by 7p. "La lloya", the family's parrot, was chattering outside the window saying "pobrecita la lloyita" and meowing like the cats that stalk her cage at night. I smile despite the pains in my stomach. At 630p Mario and Abuela get back from the salon and I still feel miserable. I concede the civil ceremony, and Mario drops me back at Carolina's to rest on his way to the ceremony. I fight off nausea and try to sleep. Around 12am I am poked awake and Mario launches into a story about the civil ceremony from hell. Aparently, and he had to retell me later, Patty, over a confusion over who was driving whom to the ceremony (cars are shared and people pick each other up etc) didn't arrive until an hour late. They held up the ceremony waiting, and finally started by 8pm. Shortly after the ceremony began, everyone already frustrated, the groom, Javier, passes out, hitting the table on the way to the ground. Chaos ensues while everyone rushes to his side and he is carried off to an empty room to recover. Half an hour later, he comes back and the ceremony begins again. Shortly after it resumes for the second time, a loud hissing emits from the main house (the ceremony is held in the back yard of Javier's mom's house) and someone comes running from the house yelling, "It's a gas leak! Everyone get away from the house!" Everyone goes running from the yard and down the street before the poor maid sent back to check finds out it's just a boiler leaking steam. After everyone is found and brought back to the yard, the ceremony begins for the third time. At this point the speaker is cut off by the audience yelling to him to just have Javier and Jessly sign the papers before something else can happen!! Bummer I missed that :( After being regaled with the excitement at the civil ceremony, I fight against the heat and pain in my stomach, struggling to go back to sleep, at least still with a smile on my face.
Friday, June 5, 2009 (Managua to Masaya y Catarina)
Woke up feeling much improved and decided to go to volcan Masaya y Catarina market. Picked-up Jessica and went to a grocery store for bottled water, gatorade, and safely prepackaged snacks for me to eat. Mario's while family is now rallying around how to take care of their gringa, and I"m hardly allowed to eat anything not bottled or packaged. Drove up to volcan Masaya. Lava rock everywhere. Masaya is an active volcano that erupted about 100 years ago. At the top we got out to look at its crater. The first thing I noticed was the smell. I can't describe it other than it was strong, maybe a little like sulphur, and you could feel it in your throat. Smoke and steam were pouring out of the crater- I guess it was that. Beautiful view. Since I was already weakened from being sick, I couldn't stay up there in the fumes for very long before feeling light headed, so we left after some pictures to Catarina. Catarina is a small artisian based city situated looking over a crater of an inactive volcano turned to a lake. It was a lovely town. A group of local young boys followed me around whistling and calling me "clase rubia" meaining big or tall blonde. Mario said they may not have seen a blonde before- wierd sticking out so much like this! Bought gifts from local artisians who were calling me "dura esta merchanta" or the tough customer- I guess I was picky. We had dress fitting for bridesmaids gowns and wedding dress rehearsal at 5p back in Managua, so we left Catarina with just enough time to get to the church for the rehearsal. The fitting and rehearsal were long and hot both- dominated by the bridezilla and drama. After those and a brief visit to the Abuelos, we found a pizza hut (I so badly wanted American food) and brought it back to Patty's house to eat with Mario, his mom, and his sisters. We had barely gobbled it down when Mario said, "ella esta cansada y inferma- nos vamos pues," or something to that effect, and we rushed out. Come to find out the Spanish conversation I wasn't following while gobbling my pizza was Jessly complaining and bridezilla-ing, and Mario had had enough. Back to Carolina's to sleep and snuggle up after a long day. There is a crazy rooster here added to the menagerie of night sounds that totally must be blind. It's hot- I miss AC and American food (and American driving- you should see the drivers and roads here in Managua!)
Saturday, June 6, 2009 (Managua- wedding mayhem)
Bridezilla part two. Woke up around 8am. Picked up breakfast and went to Patty's house. Ate breakfast with Jessica and Patty while Mario worked on their computers. Dozed until 12pm then left with Jessica and Mario to the hair salon. The salon was a nightmare for the civil ceremony day making everyone late- but I took heart today because I got worked on right away- so I thought. Rolled my hair in pin curlers and then sent me to wait. Two hours later still waiting and un cuchon says, "voy a maquillarte." I think, "great- my first professional makeover!" He takes me to a side room for thirty minutes working on his masterpeice before putting a mirror in front of my face. !Que horror! I looked like a drag queen, clown, totem-pole, middle-school art project freak. In the meantime my stylist looks for me, I'm MIA, so he moves on to someone else. It is after 3p and we were suppsed to be at the dressmaker by 3p for finishing touches on the dresses. I told the "artist" to take it all off (the makeup) and by the time my hair was done it was almost 4p. At least the hair looked ok. We left for the dressmakers'. None of the dresses for the six bridesmaids are done yet. It is 4p on the day of the 7p wedding and the dresses are not yet sewn. Ridiculous. I'm told mine will be ready in an hour so Mario finds us some late lunch then runs us to a nearby different salon to have someone else do my makeup again. The makeup artists all commented on my big blue eyes and in 15 minutes I was done. Still a bit heavy for my taste, but everyone loved it so I smiled and thanked them. Back by 5p to dressmaker, back to Carolina's to change by 6pm- Mario is set to arrive at the wedding with the bride by 630p and he isn't dressed yet. Tuxedo pieces fly on his way out the door- he has to meet Jessly at the hotel and arrive with her to walk her down the aisle. At 6:57p Mario's abuelos finally arrive at Carolina's to pick me up and run me to the church- luckily we still arrive before the bride. I'm shoved towards the other bridesmaids and a boquet of lillies are thrust into my hands. Three bridesmaids of six didn't make it because their dresses weren't done yet. Bride arrives. I stick out as the only blonde in the processional and stand teary-eyed watching my sweetheart proudly walk his sister down the aisle and give her away. We sit together in the front row and the ceremony passes quickly- it was very beautiful. Recessional. Everyone crams into cars to go to the reception. They have good food but I am under strict Fuentes family regulations to only eat bread and rice. Dancing, music, fold dancers, live music, singing, celebrating and eating carry through the night until 2am. I dance with Mario and realize for the first time what a good dancer he is. I cut a rug wigh his aunts and Abuela (oh btw, did I mention also blubber all over myself while snapping pictures of Mario having the first dance with his sister? He is not just a son and brother but also father to his sisters and support to his mom. Beautiful to see how much they all love each other). Tired and hot, Mario and I leave the reception and get home to Carolina's around 3am. Little lizards skitter around on the walls kissing the air goodnight.
Sunday, June 7, 2009 (Managua)
Got up around 10am this morning and managed to stomach huevos revueltos for breakfast. A lunch for the new couple is scheduled by the groom's family at their house at 1p. Mario and I go to his mom's and he works on computers again. We don't get out the door to the lunch until 2p. Start times seem farily relative here. Again I am restricted on food- this time by Jessly- to bread and cheese and a warm can of soda (no ice) for lunch. We spend the afternoon between the party and the bride's mom's house (Patty). Coming and going to parties is quite an ordeal here- kissing everyone hello and goodbye. It's sweet and warming though, and I like it. The party is- like everything in Nicaragua- outdoors or "indoors," which is in the house with all doors and windows open to the feel of an American patio. I spend the afternoon working on my Spanish. Later we return again and stay late at Mario's mom's for more computer work, getting back to Carolina's 11-ish. I scarf a late-night dinner of a can of Campbell's soup, a welcome change from all the break and crackers. I collapse into sleep, too tired to pack yet.
Monday, June 8, 2009 (Managua to Miami)
The plan today is to leave Nicaragua at 1:30p and arrive at Baltimore 11-ish p. We wake early and pack, and after thanking Carolina (Alvaro was not home) we leave for Mario's abuelos' house. We pick up his abuela and have her driver take us down the block to a local bakery called the Margarita for breakfast. We chat in the open-air cafe over pan dulce and drinks (I had a bottle of soda- actually cold this time). I ate una "oreja" y pan dulce con "sweet milk" which is caramel. I forgot the name of it but it was flaky, gooey, and delicious. We left around 11:30am to Abuela's house again. About noon Patty, Jessica and Jessly arrive to accompany us with his abuelos to the airport- a tration here for a big family send-off. The bride brings left-over wedding cake. She has been calling me her "cun~iz" which Mario told me is an affectionate way to say "sister-in-law," also slang for brother's girlfriend. Two cars of Fuentes leave with us to the airport. We check our bags then sit for drinks with Mario's family. After goodbye kisses and tears, Mario and I board the plane and leave Nicaragua. We arrive to Miami about 7pm (losing 2 hours to time zones). We were sitting by the emergency door on another A330 (ps- these are on the news as unsafe right now) and one of the flight attendants sat facing us during landing and take off and we were chatting with him before gettin goff the plane and joining the melee towards immigration. Turns out there was no rush. Mario and I seperated at immigration into "residents" and "citizens" lines, making faces at each other accross the crowd, arriving at our respective immigration officers at the same time. I get grilled but go through and pass just in time to hear his officer say "step aside." He gives me a confident smile and a shrug as I am pushed forward by the crowd. After passing the exit guard I wait at the top of the down escalator, eyes locked on Mario. I figure he has been randomly flagged for carry-on search or something (we don't have our full luggage yet). The exit officer sends me down the escalator and frustrated, I wait at the bottom now helpless and separated from my sweetheart. I stand as our while flight followed by captain and crew clear immigration and descend the escalator. I start to panic. An hour passes. I fight back tears and waves of panic. Somehow I have the presence of mind to hear someone announce in Spanish to pick up baggage at claim eight to clear cultoms and they are starting to confiscate remaining bags. I tear my eyes off the escalator and rush to the baggage claim, hauling our four suitcases onto a hand cart, I run back to the escalator. Another hour. All that are left are me and a handful of other worried-looking people at the bottom of the escalator. We've already missed our connecting flight. A third hour ticks by. I start thinking of worst case scenerios. Another worried woman grills a passing guard who says he can tell her nothing. I am angered by my own helplessness. A flight from Haiti arrives and begins trickling through immigration and coming down the escalator. Finally, I see my Mario and run to him, leaving the luggage temporarily behind. We share a sweet moment and many kisses of relief. He had been held over an almost 2 year old traffic ticket. Exhausted and full of relief to be arm-in-arm, we trudge through customs and to the American Airlines missed flight counter, temporarily ignoring the significance of the discrimination we both just suffered from (especially him, pobrecito). Next flight to Balitmore tomorrow at 12p. We change tickets, recheck bags, feed our growling stomachs and take a shuttle to a nearby hotel. I collapsed into fitful sleep, waking often and feeling scared forgetting where I was.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009 (Miami to Baltimore)
(written in airport before safe arrival home to Baltimore):
An unexpected 11th day of our trip. After grabbing the hotel's continental breakfast and checking out we shuttled back to the airport. I'm at our departure gate now waiting to board, ready to be home. Work and kennel have been called and upon arrival to Baltimore around 3p, I have a puppy to pick-up and the rest of the day to rest, and reflect upon my travels.
Hopefully once I have had time to digest, I will be able to write a follow-up blog summarizing my thoughts on this amazing trip!!!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Idealism v Realism
With the recent changes in elected officials in our country, I have been thinking a lot about this theme. What seems so obvious to me but not to many others (especially in my age group- so frustrating!) is that idealism and realism are NOT THE SAME in politics. How is this not intuitive? Anyone who has taken statistics knows the expression "correlation does not equal causation." Let me amend that idealism does not equal realism!! They are actually totally opposite terms in my mind. Not that I'm jaded.
In undergrad a professor told me the expression that was something to the effect of, "when you are young if you are not politically left-ist you have no heart; when you are older if you are not politically right-ist you have no brain." This is exactly what I mean about idealism vs. realism. Let me explain why I am thinking about this.
So I have a professor who teaches Multicultural Counseling (amongst other courses) in my graduate program. As a part of her required syllabus she wants us to attend a political advocacy training session at the American Psychological Association headquarters in Alexandria, VA, this coming Tuesday. Which is great. HOWEVER, it also recently came to my attention that after this training, we will be required to go to Capitol Hill and advocate for bill HR 3014 on the Health Equity and Accountability Act. So. We are required to advocate for HER political agenda. No problems with that, right? Obviously wrong.
First of all, this is manipulation. 99% of my classmates are going to not read the legislation and blindly advocate for a bill about which they have no idea nor opinion because our professor made it an assignment. No one wants to make s**** for the professor (plus I think in general we are a Nation of blind policy followers). So a bill is getting support because she is manipulating a class who in true form neglects to think for themselves. Second of all, as the professor for the multicultural counseling class, this professor herself claims to be very multiculturally aware. This requires respect, awareness, knowledge, etc for all viewpoints, according to her (does it not, class?) This is what she preaches to us. So explain to me how it is not hypocritical for her to expect is to be sheep and follow her political beliefs. Explain to me how this is being respectful or even aware of differing political beliefs in her classroom. You can't because it isn't. Now any of us who do have the ability and gumption to think for ourselves are in the awkward position of being difficult and standing up to our professor, even to the point where our grades are in jeopardy.
So idealism vs. realism. The bill, and in my opinion much of the current, new and promised policy of our new administration is idealistic. Thus, by definition, it is not realistic. Which is a better policy to enact? Logically only the realistic will work. However, those of us with enough of our brains about us to think this way are heartless because obviously views on policy equate personal values.
The bill she is asking us to support is about extending mental health services to under served, minority populations. Great. Wonderful value. I have no problem with this value. But this is not the same as policy! The value is idealist, therefore corresponding policy cannot be! Idealistic policy does not work! (even ultimately turning socialist, right?) Nothing about the policy is realistic, but because I voice this, I do not have a heart and obviously don't care about diversity. SO FRUSTRATING! In an effort to attack this issue in some way shape or form, I have been reading the bill, public opinion, scholarly and newspaper reports about the bill all day. I put together a list of problems with the bill. Since nothing I found online did this (having to do with avoiding the values judgment?) I feel the need to. The eight-points I argue are below for your consideration. The format is first a statement from the bill, followed by an argument for that statement. And please, USE YOUR HEAD AND THINK ABOUT THINGS!!! Just because it sounds "so nice!" does not mean it will actually help anybody, so you are not automatically a nice person for supporting it. Just kind of a lemming (because we need more of those.)
Points against HR 3014:
1) “Provides for grants for strategies to eliminate racial and ethnic health and health care disparities.”
“Health Equity and Accountability Act of 2007 - Amends the Public Health Service Act to require the Secretary of Health and Human Services to establish the Robert T. Matsui Center for Cultural and Linguistic Competence in Health Care.”
Where is the funding coming from? Either me or the mental health agencies; neither of us have money to spare nor need to be told how to use what we do have (why does the government never trust the individual to spend their own money appropriately!? I work hard for my own money and choose how much I can afford to share and who to share it with- the government has no right to make this decision for me; this sounds like socialism!!!)
2) “Improving racial and ethnic minorities’ access to primary care services.”
Should the government have the right to force businesses to pay for additional mental health insurance plans? If so, the businesses will have to limit the number of people they can afford to hire. The first employees to be cut will be the entry level folks, which are typically the minority types listed as in need for advocacy.
3) “Requires the establishment of an Office of Minority Health within specified agencies.”
Where does the money come from to hire the required multicultural liaison to make sure the policies stipulated in the bill are followed? From the agency. This ultimately takes money from the agency reducing the number of cts they can see or reducing the salary of the already underpaid therapists at any federally funded agency. This means:
a. Therapists will quit/leave/be fired from the agency.
b. Other important agency projects such as individual agency plans to reach out in the best way possible to the particular needs of their local communities, will be abandoned in place of the more blind government stipulations.
c. More therapists will opt for independent practice where many/most don’t take insurance further reducing the available services for those underserved.
4) “Provides for the establishment of health empowerment zone programs in communities that disproportionately experience disparities in health status and health care.”
Adding more regulations does not mean change will happen, but it does mean the government gets more control over what goes on in your agency. Just by giving us a list of rules does not change the knowledge base or ability of anyone/thing in the center to reach out to those underserved. Rather, it makes the agency struggle to meet specific number requirements leaving the original problem mostly unsolved (i.e. did we get at least 8 Latinos through the door this month? Never mind if we helped them, spoke Spanish, etc.)
5) “Directs the President to execute, administer, and enforce provisions to address environmental justice in minority and low-income populations.”
This is giving the government more power which I am slow to do unless I feel that it is absolutely the best and only solution. I don’t believe it is so in this situation.
6) “Requires the Secretary to establish: (1) an Office of Health Disparities within the Office of Civil Rights; and (2) civil rights compliance offices in each HHS agency that administers health programs.”
Is this the best solution to this problem? I don’t think so. Better solutions:
a. New standards and ethics of practice from professional organizations (requires no/MUCH LESS money to enforce, can include the important educational pieces)
b. More education for agencies based on particular agency needs (i.e. does this center need Spanish language classes? Does this need to expand to more accessible locations in the inner-city?)
c. Individual therapists and agencies taking it on themselves to offer sliding scale, reduced fee, or pro-bono sessions for underserved populations
d. Individual agency programming to reach out to underserved communities (energy and funds going here rather than trying to meet blanket and federally enforced expectations).
7) “Directs each federal health agency to implement a strategic plan to eliminate disparities and improve the health and health care of minority populations.”
This entire bill pays homage to the never-ending problem of the government thinking it knows best what is better for everyone. This is specifically NOT the case when considering diversity, because this will not be universal so federal standards are myopic and do not apply. Therefore the government is not in a place to create and enforce regulations about strategic plans to reach out to the diversity minority populations.
8) “Enhancing diversity in the healthcare workforce.”
I have a problem with the stipulation to enhance diversity in the mental health workforce because I feel that this discriminates against me. Directly, if this goes into effect, as a white female, I will automatically be LESS QUALIFIED BY NO FAULT OF MY OWN (reverse discrimination?) to be hired into a federally funded agency. If there is a specific criterion for a certain number of multicultural individuals in a federally funded agency that trades traditional hiring techniques such as choosing the most qualified, to doing your best to number-grab. It also has no regard for diversity populations in which the center is located (i.e. is four white people and one Latino representative of the population in this city more than one Asian person, one Latino person, and one white person? Etc). This also assumes that multicultural training and education are worthless (i.e. in lieu of multi-culturally competent counselors as a recommendation/requirement, we are just going to judge based on background; in other words multicultural competence doesn’t better qualify someone to work with diverse populations; rather they must be a member of that group to understand/be able to help). This should not be federally regulated, by decided based on needs by individual community centers.
In undergrad a professor told me the expression that was something to the effect of, "when you are young if you are not politically left-ist you have no heart; when you are older if you are not politically right-ist you have no brain." This is exactly what I mean about idealism vs. realism. Let me explain why I am thinking about this.
So I have a professor who teaches Multicultural Counseling (amongst other courses) in my graduate program. As a part of her required syllabus she wants us to attend a political advocacy training session at the American Psychological Association headquarters in Alexandria, VA, this coming Tuesday. Which is great. HOWEVER, it also recently came to my attention that after this training, we will be required to go to Capitol Hill and advocate for bill HR 3014 on the Health Equity and Accountability Act. So. We are required to advocate for HER political agenda. No problems with that, right? Obviously wrong.
First of all, this is manipulation. 99% of my classmates are going to not read the legislation and blindly advocate for a bill about which they have no idea nor opinion because our professor made it an assignment. No one wants to make s**** for the professor (plus I think in general we are a Nation of blind policy followers). So a bill is getting support because she is manipulating a class who in true form neglects to think for themselves. Second of all, as the professor for the multicultural counseling class, this professor herself claims to be very multiculturally aware. This requires respect, awareness, knowledge, etc for all viewpoints, according to her (does it not, class?) This is what she preaches to us. So explain to me how it is not hypocritical for her to expect is to be sheep and follow her political beliefs. Explain to me how this is being respectful or even aware of differing political beliefs in her classroom. You can't because it isn't. Now any of us who do have the ability and gumption to think for ourselves are in the awkward position of being difficult and standing up to our professor, even to the point where our grades are in jeopardy.
So idealism vs. realism. The bill, and in my opinion much of the current, new and promised policy of our new administration is idealistic. Thus, by definition, it is not realistic. Which is a better policy to enact? Logically only the realistic will work. However, those of us with enough of our brains about us to think this way are heartless because obviously views on policy equate personal values.
The bill she is asking us to support is about extending mental health services to under served, minority populations. Great. Wonderful value. I have no problem with this value. But this is not the same as policy! The value is idealist, therefore corresponding policy cannot be! Idealistic policy does not work! (even ultimately turning socialist, right?) Nothing about the policy is realistic, but because I voice this, I do not have a heart and obviously don't care about diversity. SO FRUSTRATING! In an effort to attack this issue in some way shape or form, I have been reading the bill, public opinion, scholarly and newspaper reports about the bill all day. I put together a list of problems with the bill. Since nothing I found online did this (having to do with avoiding the values judgment?) I feel the need to. The eight-points I argue are below for your consideration. The format is first a statement from the bill, followed by an argument for that statement. And please, USE YOUR HEAD AND THINK ABOUT THINGS!!! Just because it sounds "so nice!" does not mean it will actually help anybody, so you are not automatically a nice person for supporting it. Just kind of a lemming (because we need more of those.)
Points against HR 3014:
1) “Provides for grants for strategies to eliminate racial and ethnic health and health care disparities.”
“Health Equity and Accountability Act of 2007 - Amends the Public Health Service Act to require the Secretary of Health and Human Services to establish the Robert T. Matsui Center for Cultural and Linguistic Competence in Health Care.”
Where is the funding coming from? Either me or the mental health agencies; neither of us have money to spare nor need to be told how to use what we do have (why does the government never trust the individual to spend their own money appropriately!? I work hard for my own money and choose how much I can afford to share and who to share it with- the government has no right to make this decision for me; this sounds like socialism!!!)
2) “Improving racial and ethnic minorities’ access to primary care services.”
Should the government have the right to force businesses to pay for additional mental health insurance plans? If so, the businesses will have to limit the number of people they can afford to hire. The first employees to be cut will be the entry level folks, which are typically the minority types listed as in need for advocacy.
3) “Requires the establishment of an Office of Minority Health within specified agencies.”
Where does the money come from to hire the required multicultural liaison to make sure the policies stipulated in the bill are followed? From the agency. This ultimately takes money from the agency reducing the number of cts they can see or reducing the salary of the already underpaid therapists at any federally funded agency. This means:
a. Therapists will quit/leave/be fired from the agency.
b. Other important agency projects such as individual agency plans to reach out in the best way possible to the particular needs of their local communities, will be abandoned in place of the more blind government stipulations.
c. More therapists will opt for independent practice where many/most don’t take insurance further reducing the available services for those underserved.
4) “Provides for the establishment of health empowerment zone programs in communities that disproportionately experience disparities in health status and health care.”
Adding more regulations does not mean change will happen, but it does mean the government gets more control over what goes on in your agency. Just by giving us a list of rules does not change the knowledge base or ability of anyone/thing in the center to reach out to those underserved. Rather, it makes the agency struggle to meet specific number requirements leaving the original problem mostly unsolved (i.e. did we get at least 8 Latinos through the door this month? Never mind if we helped them, spoke Spanish, etc.)
5) “Directs the President to execute, administer, and enforce provisions to address environmental justice in minority and low-income populations.”
This is giving the government more power which I am slow to do unless I feel that it is absolutely the best and only solution. I don’t believe it is so in this situation.
6) “Requires the Secretary to establish: (1) an Office of Health Disparities within the Office of Civil Rights; and (2) civil rights compliance offices in each HHS agency that administers health programs.”
Is this the best solution to this problem? I don’t think so. Better solutions:
a. New standards and ethics of practice from professional organizations (requires no/MUCH LESS money to enforce, can include the important educational pieces)
b. More education for agencies based on particular agency needs (i.e. does this center need Spanish language classes? Does this need to expand to more accessible locations in the inner-city?)
c. Individual therapists and agencies taking it on themselves to offer sliding scale, reduced fee, or pro-bono sessions for underserved populations
d. Individual agency programming to reach out to underserved communities (energy and funds going here rather than trying to meet blanket and federally enforced expectations).
7) “Directs each federal health agency to implement a strategic plan to eliminate disparities and improve the health and health care of minority populations.”
This entire bill pays homage to the never-ending problem of the government thinking it knows best what is better for everyone. This is specifically NOT the case when considering diversity, because this will not be universal so federal standards are myopic and do not apply. Therefore the government is not in a place to create and enforce regulations about strategic plans to reach out to the diversity minority populations.
8) “Enhancing diversity in the healthcare workforce.”
I have a problem with the stipulation to enhance diversity in the mental health workforce because I feel that this discriminates against me. Directly, if this goes into effect, as a white female, I will automatically be LESS QUALIFIED BY NO FAULT OF MY OWN (reverse discrimination?) to be hired into a federally funded agency. If there is a specific criterion for a certain number of multicultural individuals in a federally funded agency that trades traditional hiring techniques such as choosing the most qualified, to doing your best to number-grab. It also has no regard for diversity populations in which the center is located (i.e. is four white people and one Latino representative of the population in this city more than one Asian person, one Latino person, and one white person? Etc). This also assumes that multicultural training and education are worthless (i.e. in lieu of multi-culturally competent counselors as a recommendation/requirement, we are just going to judge based on background; in other words multicultural competence doesn’t better qualify someone to work with diverse populations; rather they must be a member of that group to understand/be able to help). This should not be federally regulated, by decided based on needs by individual community centers.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thinking about being busy
Sometimes I think about all the things we have to do in order to have time for the few moments in life that make us so happy. I have been seeing up to seven clients a day lately (in seven hour work days even) plus my full course load, thesis and weekend job. Sometimes after six or seven hours of work on my thesis, I feel that good moment of accomplishment. Sometimes out of seven clients, on will tell me that day that counseling is helping them and thank me, and I feel that moment of accomplishment. What about everything else? What about once the commuting, the dirty clothes and dishes that need to be washed, the other household stuff that needs to happen, the dog that needs to be walked, the running/working out daily...? Out of all of the hours and hours of stuff we have to do, how many moments during those hours are we living for? I'm rambling here.
This weekend I didn't have to work. Today it was 60*. I savored the beautiful moments I spent outside at the lake with my sweet boyfriend and my manoso puppy. I had those moments, and they flew by. Everything we did today made those moments. And the time flew. It flew away.
Yet the hours of things I do for moments like this drag on.
Not sure where I was going with this...
This weekend I didn't have to work. Today it was 60*. I savored the beautiful moments I spent outside at the lake with my sweet boyfriend and my manoso puppy. I had those moments, and they flew by. Everything we did today made those moments. And the time flew. It flew away.
Yet the hours of things I do for moments like this drag on.
Not sure where I was going with this...
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Internship Double Standard
After a confusing meeting with my internship supervisor today, I was sitting alone in my office trying to understand why I felt so angry and defeated by such a stupid meeting.
This morning my supervisor visited the main office location for the agency, to meet with her supervisor. She came back from the meeting later this afternoon and said we needed to "talk about some things." My stomach dropped to my feet. I had spent ALL MORNING reading the mountains of books, magazines, and articles my supervisor gives me every time we meet, diligently taking notes and wracking my brain for ways to apply what I was learning, and be a better counselor at the agency. What could I have possibly done wrong, out of everything I was trying to do right?
The substance of the meeting was that I had entered a "do not schedule" hour on my calendar for tomorrow. I did this early this morning upon seeing my calendar with five back-to-back clients, three of which were brand new intakes, thinking I would need the time to digest, conceptualize and do paperwork. I thought it was the responsible thing to do to not take on more than I could handle and give myself enough time to plan and organize my learning around each new case. Apparently, I was wrong. The meeting turned into disdain for "laziness" at putting that block in my calendar. Why would I do that? I already have one hour for dinner and paperwork that day. Why can't I have back-to-back clients, six of them, the rest of the day?
The reason why is because I am an intern. First and foremost, I am NOT PAID. Second, I am not yet a professional. I am expected by my graduate program to see four clients per week, and at internship, am being finger-pointed for not doing six clients per day.
First I was angry. I work so hard to do everything perfect, and I messed up because I held an hour of my schedule free on the computer this morning? I get a boss lecture because of that? Second, I was defeated. There is no way I can EVER be good enough for this agency. EVERYTHING I do is on trial. It's like they are looking for things to criticize me on, and there's just no defeating that. Third, I was angry. I am being held to a professional standard, being given s**t even for trying to meet this ridiculous standard, all the while being micromanaged like the most incapable intern. This is infuriating! If I am going to be held to professional expectations, which, given my positions as an INTERN is inappropriate (as well as probably unethical for the clients) at least give me some respect to think for myself and be a professional. Let me put the damn spot in my calendar. You can't demand professional while talking down your nose at me because of a block on my calendar.
They just want to have their cake, and to eat it too. They want the free labor (as much of it as they would get from a paid person) while still being able to condescend and micromanage, giving me no credit or trust that I am capable of making really any good decisions on my own in the agency.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This morning my supervisor visited the main office location for the agency, to meet with her supervisor. She came back from the meeting later this afternoon and said we needed to "talk about some things." My stomach dropped to my feet. I had spent ALL MORNING reading the mountains of books, magazines, and articles my supervisor gives me every time we meet, diligently taking notes and wracking my brain for ways to apply what I was learning, and be a better counselor at the agency. What could I have possibly done wrong, out of everything I was trying to do right?
The substance of the meeting was that I had entered a "do not schedule" hour on my calendar for tomorrow. I did this early this morning upon seeing my calendar with five back-to-back clients, three of which were brand new intakes, thinking I would need the time to digest, conceptualize and do paperwork. I thought it was the responsible thing to do to not take on more than I could handle and give myself enough time to plan and organize my learning around each new case. Apparently, I was wrong. The meeting turned into disdain for "laziness" at putting that block in my calendar. Why would I do that? I already have one hour for dinner and paperwork that day. Why can't I have back-to-back clients, six of them, the rest of the day?
The reason why is because I am an intern. First and foremost, I am NOT PAID. Second, I am not yet a professional. I am expected by my graduate program to see four clients per week, and at internship, am being finger-pointed for not doing six clients per day.
First I was angry. I work so hard to do everything perfect, and I messed up because I held an hour of my schedule free on the computer this morning? I get a boss lecture because of that? Second, I was defeated. There is no way I can EVER be good enough for this agency. EVERYTHING I do is on trial. It's like they are looking for things to criticize me on, and there's just no defeating that. Third, I was angry. I am being held to a professional standard, being given s**t even for trying to meet this ridiculous standard, all the while being micromanaged like the most incapable intern. This is infuriating! If I am going to be held to professional expectations, which, given my positions as an INTERN is inappropriate (as well as probably unethical for the clients) at least give me some respect to think for myself and be a professional. Let me put the damn spot in my calendar. You can't demand professional while talking down your nose at me because of a block on my calendar.
They just want to have their cake, and to eat it too. They want the free labor (as much of it as they would get from a paid person) while still being able to condescend and micromanage, giving me no credit or trust that I am capable of making really any good decisions on my own in the agency.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Musings on Sliding 180*
It has been icing and snowing some of the first wintry weather here. It is not as though I have never driven on ice and snow before. It is not even that this is my second or third winter driving on it; however, something about this winter is hitting me hard. About a week ago during some icing and snowing, my car hit an ice patch and (thankfully) swerved into a curb. Today on my way to work during another icing and snowing, my car slid and turned 180* on a three-lane highway. Luckily neither of these situations led to any major accident- only a ripped tire and bent wheel to show for damage. They have me thinking, though.
I'm not one to admit to believing in omens and signs, but on a certain level I do pay attention, and things stay with me. Confession: A few years ago when my house burnt down, a fire that began in my bedroom (though I was away at college at the time), on some level I was convinced it was a symbolic purging and punishment. Now cognitively I know this is ridiculous and untrue- but on some level I wonder if I really believe it.
I have been going to therapy for the past few months for what I like to think of as "therapist maintenance." I have been fairly disappointed with the ramblings of my sessions, impatiently waiting for the work to begin. Last session, at the end of another set of ramblings and almost pointless exchanges, my therapist urged me to think about something over the next week. What was that...?
Oh yeah. It was about trying to please everyone. I have written recently about congruence and perfectionism and those two themes fight each other for me. I try to please everyone and be perfect, which is not congruent because I would be better to (1) be happy for who I am and at what level my capabilities are, and (2) base my opinion of myself on myself and not other's thoughts of me. It was about how exhausting it is to try and be perfect for everyone. In doing that, the main problem is I am not being perfect for myself. I guess that begs the question, "how am I perfect for myself?" What is/are my true limits, potential, characteristics etc? How would one go about finding those out? By constantly pushing those limits, right? As long as one is constantly trying there are no limits to what they can do?
Maybe it's more about accepting my less-than-perfect qualities. Sometimes I procrastinate. Sometimes I can be a bit lazy. Usually I don't do the reading. Which of these is acceptable and which are self-defeating? How does one know the difference? Basic ethics say that laziness is an unacceptable value, but can I go on forever downing myself for my natural state of entropy? I couldn't be happy and fulfilled that way, could I?
Maybe accepting isn't the same thing as leaving something alone. Maybe the quality of accepting can be more like owning the laziness as part of my personality. I procrastinate. That is me. I can own that as a part of myself. Accepting this is to accept to remind myself to work harder now and then because I know if I do I can do better. Accepting laziness is not to accept hating myself for it.
I feel like I have stumbled onto a formula here:
1) Recognize (honestly) a part of one's personality one is unhappy with (e.g. laziness)
2) Own and accept this quality as a part of ones' self and one's own uniqueness
3) Identify the negative consequence normally associated with the newly owned characteristic (e.g. hating myself for procrastinating)
4) Change the negative consequence to an empowering alternative and take ownership of it (e.g. reminding myself to work harder)
5) Pair the empowering alternative with the owned quality and accept them unconditionally as part of who one is (e.g. I just can be lazy sometimes, so I am gonna have to remind myself to work harder on occasion)
This might be a good place to start for a self-esteem 180. Maybe the ice is nature giving me an ultimatum: "You can't continue on this path of self-negativity. I am hereby forcing you around towards some self-esteem."
I'm not one to admit to believing in omens and signs, but on a certain level I do pay attention, and things stay with me. Confession: A few years ago when my house burnt down, a fire that began in my bedroom (though I was away at college at the time), on some level I was convinced it was a symbolic purging and punishment. Now cognitively I know this is ridiculous and untrue- but on some level I wonder if I really believe it.
I have been going to therapy for the past few months for what I like to think of as "therapist maintenance." I have been fairly disappointed with the ramblings of my sessions, impatiently waiting for the work to begin. Last session, at the end of another set of ramblings and almost pointless exchanges, my therapist urged me to think about something over the next week. What was that...?
Oh yeah. It was about trying to please everyone. I have written recently about congruence and perfectionism and those two themes fight each other for me. I try to please everyone and be perfect, which is not congruent because I would be better to (1) be happy for who I am and at what level my capabilities are, and (2) base my opinion of myself on myself and not other's thoughts of me. It was about how exhausting it is to try and be perfect for everyone. In doing that, the main problem is I am not being perfect for myself. I guess that begs the question, "how am I perfect for myself?" What is/are my true limits, potential, characteristics etc? How would one go about finding those out? By constantly pushing those limits, right? As long as one is constantly trying there are no limits to what they can do?
Maybe it's more about accepting my less-than-perfect qualities. Sometimes I procrastinate. Sometimes I can be a bit lazy. Usually I don't do the reading. Which of these is acceptable and which are self-defeating? How does one know the difference? Basic ethics say that laziness is an unacceptable value, but can I go on forever downing myself for my natural state of entropy? I couldn't be happy and fulfilled that way, could I?
Maybe accepting isn't the same thing as leaving something alone. Maybe the quality of accepting can be more like owning the laziness as part of my personality. I procrastinate. That is me. I can own that as a part of myself. Accepting this is to accept to remind myself to work harder now and then because I know if I do I can do better. Accepting laziness is not to accept hating myself for it.
I feel like I have stumbled onto a formula here:
1) Recognize (honestly) a part of one's personality one is unhappy with (e.g. laziness)
2) Own and accept this quality as a part of ones' self and one's own uniqueness
3) Identify the negative consequence normally associated with the newly owned characteristic (e.g. hating myself for procrastinating)
4) Change the negative consequence to an empowering alternative and take ownership of it (e.g. reminding myself to work harder)
5) Pair the empowering alternative with the owned quality and accept them unconditionally as part of who one is (e.g. I just can be lazy sometimes, so I am gonna have to remind myself to work harder on occasion)
This might be a good place to start for a self-esteem 180. Maybe the ice is nature giving me an ultimatum: "You can't continue on this path of self-negativity. I am hereby forcing you around towards some self-esteem."
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Counseling Conversation
It dawned on me recently that I am trying too hard to be perfect. It really shouldn't have dawned on me recently because this is no new behavior for me. For whatever reason, or likely reasons, I bust my butt trying to be perfect.
Recently I have been brushing up on person-centered therapy. I overlooked this theory initially when learning different counseling approaches, thinking like many other therapists, I would settle for cognitive behavioral psych or even rational emotive behavioral therapy. Reflecting on the basic assumptions of person- centered theory, I was struck at just how accurate many of them are to me.
For those unfamiliar, the basic premise of person-centered therapy is congruence vs. incongruence. Simply put, the incongruent self, which is sadly most people, tries too hard to satisfy others' expectations and social norms rather than being true to their own capabilities and accepting themselves and their lives as they are. This creates a cognitive and emotional dissonance which leads to basically most psychological and many physiological conditions. The congruent self, the end goal of person-centered therapy, has shed the expectations of society and others as a means of dictating their worth, instead learning to appreciate themselves as unique and special as whom they are.
In the trauma counseling that I am currently doing, I often look at it this way:
A client comes into my office having survived a trauma. They have all types of feelings of guilt, shame, worthlessness, etc. In a way, these feelings have prevented them from incorporating the trauma experience into their life story. Rather than accept the painful feelings and memories to normalize and stabilize what they went through, they shut them out preventing healing which precipitates the negative feelings over and again. It is too painful to accept that it has happened; therefore I will not accept it and thus continue to relive it. The rejection or suppression of the experience is keeping them from realizing congruence and leading to a slew of problems magnifying perfectly normal reactions of shame, guilt, etc following such an incident.
I might tell them that everyone has a life story and knowing yourself depends on knowing your story. For traumatized people, however, their story was hijacked. Someone else took control, took power, and took their story. Going back and taking control of that experience as the author of their story plays a crucial step in the survival chapter. Ignoring the hijacked part of the story is essentially leaving it out and crumbling the present and future chapters with incongruence. If you ignore where the pain comes from, it won't just go away. You have to accept the experience for what it was and allow it to become a part of your story in order to truly heal and become congruent.
Today I had a new client come in to my office. Maybe it was because it was my first day in a new office, maybe this office has a better vibe, or maybe after taking a break, something settled or clicked in my brain. However, unlike many sessions where I feel a slight surge of panic as my client arrives, or that overwhelming feeling when someone has so many problems I don't know how I, a little graduate student, could POSSIBLY help them, I was calm. I was confident. Nothing was inherently different in this client than the others I have seen. The same age, cultural, and circumstantial barriers were there as well as the plethora of problems and complicated stories the client brought in.
Maybe it was something Mary Pipher said in one of her books. She talked about counseling as a conversation; to sit and visit. It was a relaxed exchange, an empathic listening and reflecting time for one human being to just be an objective ear for another human being.
That's what happened today. I was confident. I listened. Without feeling worried about being perfect or about what I was going to say all the time, I was true to myself. I had some moments of congruence. Oh what an amazing difference that made. Instead of being draining, I was energized after the session. I found new hope in myself as a counselor. I began to remember why I had decided to do this, whereas always trying to be so perfect, I had neglected the beauty of it all instead swamping myself with stress and worries.
Maybe I should give person-centered therapy another chance.
Recently I have been brushing up on person-centered therapy. I overlooked this theory initially when learning different counseling approaches, thinking like many other therapists, I would settle for cognitive behavioral psych or even rational emotive behavioral therapy. Reflecting on the basic assumptions of person- centered theory, I was struck at just how accurate many of them are to me.
For those unfamiliar, the basic premise of person-centered therapy is congruence vs. incongruence. Simply put, the incongruent self, which is sadly most people, tries too hard to satisfy others' expectations and social norms rather than being true to their own capabilities and accepting themselves and their lives as they are. This creates a cognitive and emotional dissonance which leads to basically most psychological and many physiological conditions. The congruent self, the end goal of person-centered therapy, has shed the expectations of society and others as a means of dictating their worth, instead learning to appreciate themselves as unique and special as whom they are.
In the trauma counseling that I am currently doing, I often look at it this way:
A client comes into my office having survived a trauma. They have all types of feelings of guilt, shame, worthlessness, etc. In a way, these feelings have prevented them from incorporating the trauma experience into their life story. Rather than accept the painful feelings and memories to normalize and stabilize what they went through, they shut them out preventing healing which precipitates the negative feelings over and again. It is too painful to accept that it has happened; therefore I will not accept it and thus continue to relive it. The rejection or suppression of the experience is keeping them from realizing congruence and leading to a slew of problems magnifying perfectly normal reactions of shame, guilt, etc following such an incident.
I might tell them that everyone has a life story and knowing yourself depends on knowing your story. For traumatized people, however, their story was hijacked. Someone else took control, took power, and took their story. Going back and taking control of that experience as the author of their story plays a crucial step in the survival chapter. Ignoring the hijacked part of the story is essentially leaving it out and crumbling the present and future chapters with incongruence. If you ignore where the pain comes from, it won't just go away. You have to accept the experience for what it was and allow it to become a part of your story in order to truly heal and become congruent.
Today I had a new client come in to my office. Maybe it was because it was my first day in a new office, maybe this office has a better vibe, or maybe after taking a break, something settled or clicked in my brain. However, unlike many sessions where I feel a slight surge of panic as my client arrives, or that overwhelming feeling when someone has so many problems I don't know how I, a little graduate student, could POSSIBLY help them, I was calm. I was confident. Nothing was inherently different in this client than the others I have seen. The same age, cultural, and circumstantial barriers were there as well as the plethora of problems and complicated stories the client brought in.
Maybe it was something Mary Pipher said in one of her books. She talked about counseling as a conversation; to sit and visit. It was a relaxed exchange, an empathic listening and reflecting time for one human being to just be an objective ear for another human being.
That's what happened today. I was confident. I listened. Without feeling worried about being perfect or about what I was going to say all the time, I was true to myself. I had some moments of congruence. Oh what an amazing difference that made. Instead of being draining, I was energized after the session. I found new hope in myself as a counselor. I began to remember why I had decided to do this, whereas always trying to be so perfect, I had neglected the beauty of it all instead swamping myself with stress and worries.
Maybe I should give person-centered therapy another chance.
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