Three little ducks.

We laugh and tease

 like little kids,

but we know when it’s time to listen.

You need both sides of the coin.

Yesterday was an amazing day for me.  I had lunch with a family friend, Amy, who’s known my parents since before I was born and my very close with my mom. We had some really interesting conversations about family, communities, motivation, and just life in general. Talking with Amy had this unique feel of spending some quiet time with family, but also that little bit of excitement that comes with good conversation. While Amy sometimes does act like my mama sometimes (giving me a little bag of Hanukkah gelt, asking me if I’m cold as I walk around in a spring jacket in 34 degree weather), it’s in a reassuring way. During yesterday’s conversation, I saw that even though Amy has strong memories of me a little kid, she’s able to see me as an adult, probably more so than I’m able to see myself that way.

Later on in the day, I met up with my friends, Dennis and Jenny, who recently got married. Now, I’ve known Dennis since I was about 10 years old and I met Jenny when I was 15 or 16. We all went to the same high school. Last night at dinner, it could have been two hours of “Remember when that gym teacher, Mr. Blah Blah Blah, got mad because of that thing? That was so funny!” Instead, it was about four hours of intense conversation about our careers (Jenny is in nursing school and Dennis, who served in both the military and law enforcement, is now a teacher) and the difficulties and rewards of being a “helping professional.” We talked about some of the things we’ve struggled with recently and what we hope for in the future. We didn’t skip over the dumb jokes though, nor did Dennis forget to tell us some hilarious stories about my brother. I felt like I was with my true family. Those four hours felt perfect.

While I was having this wonderful day, my great aunt and her family were in a hospice in New England with her son, my cousin, Steven. Steven was sick for a very long time, but things began to deteriorate for him quickly in the last few weeks. Last night, Steven was surrounded by people who loved him, but he didn’t make it through the night. Truthfully, I didn’t know Steven well. My dad’s side of the family is pretty big and I haven’t seen most of my relatives on his side since I was in elementary school. Steven and I had reconnected through Facebook in the last year or so, but still our interactions were very limited. What I remember about Steven is that he was remarkably smart and that he had a fantastic dry wit. Also, I knew I like Steven the first time I met him. My family when to visit my great aunt when I was about five years old and my brother was about seven.  Steven was there, too. He was in his twenties then, lounging on the couch, reading a book. My brother and I were bored. I had a twenty pack of plastic barrettes with little bunnies and duckies and kitty cats on them.  My brother and I asked Steven if we could put all the barrettes in his hair. He said yes. We spent a long time methodically fastening the barrettes into Steven’s hair while he read his book. He was nice enough to leave them in for a while after we were done.

It’s strange for me to think that Steven and his family were going through something so painful while I was I was having such a good time. I don’t feel guilty about or anything quite like that. It’s more like, thinking about Steven being gone makes me feel very appreciate for all the people in my life and the impact they’ve had on me, no matter how great or small. I have lifelong friends like Amy, Dennis, and Jenny who have evolved into my family, giving me such support and inspiration. In the last two years, I’ve made friends through school and judo who I know have made me stronger.

Life is full of loss, but I think it also comes with some pretty incredible gains.

From silence to growth.

I like the evolution of friendships,

From barely noticing to passing conversation,

To inside jokes and prickly debates which lead to

Dreaming and planning.

And sometimes after years of unintentional silence,

Reconvening and making something old feel new.

 

 

Priorities

For some, the holidays are a time for families to take pause and reconnect with the people they care about through the comfort of tradition. This year for Christmas, Mr. Latimer and I will share in a Christmas brunch with his girlfriend and her family at the Latimer family home. I told my dad I would come over on Christmas Eve so that I could be there early the next morning to help get things ready. He said, “OK, sure. Whatever.” I said I’d come over Christmas Eve between four and five o’clock, to which he responded, “OK, sure. Whatever.”

Then this afternoon, Mr. Latimer sent me this text:

“Eagles game 4pm Sat on tv. If u need a ride it must b b4 then. XO”

When I was growing up, Eagles games were a special time when my dad would ignore everything else and scream at the television for three hours. I’m glad to know that Mr. Latimer and I will be sticking to our family tradition during this festive time of year.

 

 

 

 

 

Family tree.

So today was my cousin, Noah’s, wedding. It was probably the best Jamaican-American-Jewish wedding I’ve ever gone to. While last night I was glad to know that Noah’s wife and her family were now officially a part of my world, tonight I realized that there’s family I never met right in my hometown. See, Noah’s parents got divorced when he was pretty young. I’m related to him on his mom’s side and although Noah’s dad remains a part of our lives, I never met anyone from that side of Noah’s family. We all live in Philadelphia. I learned tonight that a lot of them are in like-minded professions, like nursing and psychology. There are even a few social workers. Like Noah, they are smart, welcoming, easy to talk to, and a little goofy. I’m hopeful that our paths will cross when we get back up North.

And in tribute to the handsome groom, I would like to share on of my most memorable conversations with Noah:

(Scene: Miami, 2008. I am ranting about a 25 year-male I know who cannot execute the simplest of tasks. Noah tries to inject insight and reason into my tirade.) 

Noah: Lori, when I was 25, I couldn’t mail a letter.

Me: (Rolls eyes.)

Noah: Well, did you ever get a letter from me?

Me: No, but–

Noah: Well, there you have it.

Me. (Sighs.) Well, how did you pay your bills?

Noah: I didn’t.

(End scene.)

Real talk.

(A co-worker and I are transporting some items from the residential facility to the daycare center across the street for a meeting.)

Co-worker: Where’s your coat?

Me: It’s in the building.

CW: Who do you think you are, Superwoman?

Me: I don’t feel cold now.

CW: You’re going to end up in the hospital.

Me: No, no. I already did that this year. I’m not doing that again.

CW: Then go put your coat on.

When good things happen to good people.

At 7:23AM on Saturday morning, my phone rang. This in itself is not as disturbing as one might think. My friends from school and I have fallen into the habit of contacting each other at morning hours that would shock and disgust 17 year-old me. What did concern me was that it was my friend, Dennis, who was calling. Since he’s not on my roster of people who call at impolite hours, I got worried something bad happened. I hoped he was pocket dialing me.

I knew the moment I heard his voice that something big was happening. Dennis sounded uncontrollably excited and so happy, I ruled out the third possible reason for his call, which would simply be to annoy me. “Lori!” he yelled. “This is Dennis. And Jenny. And you’re on speaker phone!” Jenny is Dennis’ girlfriend and a friend of mine from high school. They asked me what I was doing on a certain Saturday in December. I told them I’d be flying back from Miami from my cousin’s wedding. Dennis and Jenny told me that I now have the option of attending another wedding; they’re getting married.

This news made me happy to the core. First of all, I love Dennis. He’s my brother. I admire and respect him immensely, and he has given me support so many times that I don’t know if I could ever adequately thank him. Dennis remains the inappropriate, obnoxious imp that I met through my brother about 20 years ago, but I’ve seen him grown and change into a dedicated, passionate, giving, and insightful man. He’s been through some really difficult times, and he always comes out stronger than before. When he and Jenny started dating, I was so glad because I knew Jenny was incredibly smart, genuine, and caring, and that she shared Dennis’ level of ridiculousness. He’d found the right girl.

The second reason Dennis’ good news was so welcome is because I felt like it had been awhile since I heard something good. Several of my friends have recently been dealt some extremely hard situations, and a bunch of us are just not feeling great right now. When Dennis and Jenny called to share their news, it reminded me that life is not just the struggle. There are moments when things just feel right and you wind up walking around grinning to yourself intermittently throughout the day. I was going to my friend from high school’s wedding that day, and truthfully, the night before I was feeling anxious.  I’ve been so out of sorts and I didn’t know if I could handle being around a ton of people. But after getting off the phone with Dennis and Jenny, I remembered how much my friend means to me, and that at her wedding, I would see my best friend and all our our other buddies. Weddings are good things, especially when they take place between someone you love and someone you believe is right for the person you care about.

I’m afraid I might not be able to make it back to the Northeast for Dennis and Jenny’s ceremony, but I’m going to do what I can to at least dance and drink with them after.

I Chose This.

Social work school is trying to kill me. Actually, I think it’s out to get me and all my classmates. Our hair is turning grey and falling out. Toe nails come off. We lose weight; we gain weight. We get migraines. Some of us get Shingles. Others go to the hospital because we think we’re dying, but really we’re just having a somatic panic attack.

I’ve talked to other friends who have gone through advanced degree programs and while they share the same feelings of anxiousness, overwhelming pressure, waning confidence, and sleep deprivation, they don’t recall themselves or their classmates experiencing such physical manifestations of their stress. My classmates and I have also had many in-depth discussions about why our program makes us feel so horrible about ourselves. I think the main problem is that you have to think about yourself too much.

Take this semester, for example, when my clinical course work focuses heavily on trauma, loss, and mental health disorders. This coincides with my field placement, which houses clients who not only go through the trauma of homelessness, but have experienced multiple traumatic events. In my own life, I’ve experienced two traumatic losses: my brother was killed by a drunk driver when I was 17 and my mom, who dealt with mental health issues pretty much her whole life, committed suicide when I was 25. Fine. That’s the reality of my life,, and I’ve done my best to make sure those things don’t prevent me from moving forward. But now, I go to field, immersed in trauma-informed care, and all of these thoughts and feelings that I was sure I’d moved past resurface. Then I go home and read for class about trauma, loss, and mental health disorders. Then I write for class about trauma, loss, and mental health disorders. Then I go to class to discuss trauma, loss, and mental health disorders. Hearing these personal topics discussed in a detached, clinical way sometimes makes me feel a little sick and I can feel my composure dissolve. I think about walking out of class. On rare occasions, I do walk out.

Staff and faculty lecture my classmates and I frequently about self-care. This concept is such a joke to me. Since we have course work in addition to our field work, we don’t have an plethora of opportunities to distract ourselves or take naps. We’re always thinking about what we’ve seen and experienced. We think about how things make our clients feel; how it makes us feel; how our clients’ feelings make us feel; how our feelings make our clients feel. Too many feelings; not enough breaks.

I love what I do. I can’t see myself in any other field, but I do struggle sometimes with the fact the I’ve chosen to pursue work that is often very painful and doesn’t always warrant great feelings of success. Of course, after graduation and I’m back in the work force, I will have the opportunity to go home at the end of the day and disconnect without feeling neglectful of other responsibilities. I know I can make it until May; I’d just like to make sure my toenails don’t fall off in the meantime.

Mr. Latimer is a real grown-up.

Yesterday, I got to spend the afternoon with Mr. Latimer. I’ll admit that when he rolled up to the bus stop to pick me up, I was not in a very good mood. I’ve been off track the last few days, which led me to have an off-track morning. I left my Transpass at my apartment so I had to pay for the bus, which was irritating to me since I already paid money to have Transpass. I decided to get into it with the crazy guy who kept talking to me at the bus stop. Then when I got to Upper Darby and Mr. Latimer arrived, I smacked my head on the car as I went to get in. I had to catch myself from wallowing in my own annoyance so that I could be pleasant company for Mr. Latimer, especially since he graciously offered to help me with a suburban errand and I did not want to seem ungrateful.

Another reason I wanted to be present while spending the afternoon with Mr. Latimer is because I knew he was probably feeling off-track, too. I posted early in this week that it was my brother’s birthday and that my dad and I don’t really acknowledge to each other that his is hard for us. Yesterday, though, after a few minutes in the car, he told me his girlfriend has showed him my post. We didn’t have  long conversation, but it was the right conversation. While I’m an adult-like person and don’t need as much parenting as, say, a six-year old, I do still need my dad sometimes. And this is not meant to sound critical at all of Mr. Latimer because I believe he’s always been a good dad, but I think he’s a much better dad now than he ever was before.

Although Mr. Latimer and I have been through some rough things together, we’ve dealt with them in different ways due to our different perspectives in our family. But really, my dad has been dealing with harder things for longer. In the past, he didn’t deal with those things very well.

So what changed?

Well, I think he has. Sure, he’s the same old Mr. Latimer. He makes dumb jokes and thinks most problems can be solved by wrasslin’. But he always makes the changes about himself that he can. Over the years, I have seen him work to become a better man. I don’t think it’s easy to change. Often, it’s terrifying because you have to recognize and accept that something’s not quite right in the first place. So as I’ve always loved and respected my dad, I think now I’m starting to understand him. And it’s making me love and respect him even more.

OK, sorry about all. I know Mr. Latimer’s fans were expecting something funny. So here is a typical Mr. Latimer interaction, a Christmas memory from 2010:

(Mr. Latimer opens my Christmas gift to him, a Philadelphia Judo Club t-shirt)

Mr. Latimer: I thought you were going to get me a Penn shirt.

Me: You hate Penn.

ML: I know, but I still want a shirt.

For fans of Mr. Latimer.

I saw Mr. Latimer for dinner last night, our first visit since the start of the school year. For his loyal fans, I want you to know that Mr. Latimer is doing quite well. He finished his physical therapy for his bum knee and has lost 15 pounds. He told me, “I’ll let you stay pretty until your cousin’s wedding; then I’ll come to judo and beat you up.” He gave me an phenomenal ice pack as a surprise gift, probably to aid in my recovery after he benevolently inflicts me with pain.