50th Anniversary

Counseling is not for Sissys

Long hours, High drama, High hopes, Great rewards is how I would sum up my experience as a therapist in the Mental Health and Drug and Alcohol field. Mental Health is a challenge in of itself. Add addiction to the mix and we have an explosion or implosion ready to happen at any given moment. Work with an inpatient population and one immediately recognizes it is far more challenging than an outpatient or private practice setting.

A normal day can consist of a Paranoid Schizophrenic with a Crack addiction running after you with sheer panic upon their face, because there is a bee in the bathroom. It does not matter if the Borderline Heroin addict is laying on the floor screaming for comfort meds or the Treatment Team meeting one was suppose to be in attendance fifteen minutes ago with the boss texting, "where are you" is in progress. The bee has to be removed from the bathroom Right Now! This can be one's first two hours at their job place.

Inpatient means girls fighting over hair brushes, color pencils and telephone time. It can mean men fighting over the music station or the famous, "he looked at me with an attitude". Yeah, this stuff is better than any movie flick. The job is never boring, can crush your last remaining nerve, exhaust you and it all has to be done with an empathic compassionate approach, because we are the professionals and there is no time to be human. You leave "human" at the curb when you arrive for work and pick it up on the way to your car before you drive home for the night that is probably in ten or so hours. I wonder what a normal eight hour workday would look like? I will let you know when I have experienced it. I can tell you one thing we all have in common. That dreaded fear when it is ten minutes before you are ready to leave for the evening on a Friday, and one of your patients decides to leave AMA or needs to be stepped up. Monday morning when you cross your fingers and hope 20 new patients did not get admitted over the weekend when two counselors are out.

Lunch while in a meeting getting updates about patients, presenting new patients and discussing the events from the night before, which can range from the person out on the fire escape, to the person who cheeked their meds, to the person who had a seizure, to the person who would not get up for vital signs, to the person who snores too loud.

We hear all sorts of things in one on one sessions from the horrific to the bazar to the "are you kidding me" all with that professional straight face only a person in this field can manage.

Groups are fun. So are the family sessions. No. We cannot fix so and so. Yes. Family Counseling or a support group is encouraged, then there are the insurance companies.

Outpatient therapy means the person goes home. Inpatient therapy means you are met at the car, followed to the time clock, and all the way to the nurse's station, back to the chart room, and all the while you are being told how urgent it is to have laundry detergent.

It means you carry three heavy charts with your lunch bag, water bottle and oversized handbag across a parking lot to another building, climb three flights of stairs, manage to get the key out to unlock your office without dropping any of the above, walk into the office, place your lunch bag on the shelf where all your books sit, place the handbag in your desk draw, click on the computer, look for a spoon to eat your yogurt, while reading your email, assigning new patients to counselors, looking at your online calendar to see who needs an assessment, a treatment plan, a PCPC, discharge planning, a call to their probation/parole officer, who needs a court date continued, and discover you have no spoon to eat that yogurt, and debate whether you walk down three flights of stairs to get one, or settle with the plastic fork instead.

What an amazing field I am in and I would not change one single minute.

CYBERSTALKING

Cyberstalking is the use of the internet or other electronic means to stalk or harass an individual, a group of individuals, or an organization. It may include the making of  false accusations or statements of fact (as in defamation), monitoring, making threats, identity theft, damage to data or equipment, the solicitation of minors for sex, or gathering information that may be used to harass. The definition of "harassment" must meet the criterion that a reasonable person, in possession of the same information, would regard it as sufficient to cause another reasonable person distress.^] Cyberstalking is different from spatial or offline stalking in that it occurs through the use of electronic communications technology such as the internet. However, it sometimes leads to it, or is accompanied by it. Both are criminal offenses. Cyberstalking shares important characteristics with offline stalking. Many stalkers – online or off – are motivated by a desire to control their victims.
A cyberstalker may be an online stranger or a person whom the target knows. A cyberstalker may be anonymous and may solicit involvement of other people online who do not even know the target.
Cyberstalking is a criminal offense that comes into play under state anti-stalking laws, slander laws, and harassments. A Cyberstalking conviction can result in a restraining order, probation, or even criminal penalties against the assailant, including jail.

Great Expectations

I believe there comes a time in everyone's life when they say, "enough", and throw in the towel. How much energy is wasted on caring too much, holding things and people together, having those closest hurt, miss-directed anger, control, never follow through and simply toss one's feelings to the side as though the feelings do not matter.

Ronnie was in and out of my life for many years. As a child, I did not understand. As an adult, I did understand. He was a military man who served three tours, one in Korea followed by two in Vietnam. He discharged after 27 years, married and moved away. I could understand the married part, but truth be told, I had a difficult time with the moving away part. I wanted him closer. I wanted him a part of my life. There was this off and on again relationship for years. When I last visited him five years ago, I knew in my heart, I would never see him again. There were a few cards sent here and there and one or two telephone conversations, but he stopped responding and I got tired of the one way relationship. I threw in the towel.

Michael is my oldest brother whom is also my only sibling whom we share a biological father. We were close growing up as we both lived with our grandparents, shared the same teenage friends and continued to be close throughout adulthood. He also moved down South, but our relationship continued. I missed him terribly. I felt the loss within my heart. However, we talked and I always thought he would be there for me as I would be there for him. Things got tough and he jumped ship. I wrote a letter. I received no response. I needed him more than ever. Like Father. Like Son. He turned into Ronnie and the loss I felt from Ronnie was nothing compared to the loss I felt from Michael. I am angry. I am tired. For ever how short or long my life may be, I will never forgive him for jumping ship. I guess, I too am like Ronnie. I can drop a person from my life and never feel one bit of guilt at never speaking to them. I love with all my heart. However, if I throw in the towel, I can walk away and never look back.

Today, I discovered how very weary I am. I am tired of the fight. I am tired of disappointment. I am tired of setting myself up. Most of all, I am tired of the expectations. This day, I will throw in the towel on expectations in general. I will expect nothing from anyone or anything. I will also stop trying to hold everything together. I am so damn tired of broken promises, lying, and all the bullshit in between. No more. I am finally at the point where I am done. I have a life to live and it is time I got to living it whether or not certain people want to be a part of it or not. I cannot pretend to be someone I am not so the ball is in your court. Count me in or count me out. I am done. This boundary will not be broken.

Maybe now I can let go.

Faucet

It was the first time in two years I stepped up to the door, knocked, then walked into my own house. There was a leak and the plumber was in the kitchen, my kitchen, fixing the leak and replacing the hardware. I work seven minutes away and when I got the call that the plumber wanted to install any run of the mill faucet, I went into panic mode, left work and drove over to my house. My House. Yes. My House. The house with the four gardens, I planted. The house where my grandchildren played. The house where the plumber wanted to install some cheap-ass faucet in my kitchen.

The plumber seemed annoyed that I came over and asked so many questions about a faucet. The renter looked on with her own annoyance. She just wanted the leak fixed and the faucet replaced. Not so fast, Sweetheart. If I ever move back and/or sell the place, I was not going to have some cheap-ass faucet in my kitchen that had the potential to look tacky. After a series of annoying questions by me, I gave the go ahead to complete the work and have the faucet of my choice installed. That is when the renter announced the oven did not work. Oh Well, I guess that is next.

Anyway,

When I walked through the door, I felt at home. It felt good. I had been so afraid to come back and avoided the house for two years. A faucet forced me back. It is kind of weird that I would even care about a faucet. The plumber was going to send me the bill after the work was completed, therefore, I really did not need to go over there. Something just triggered it. I left work for a hour to check on a faucet. Weird indeed!

I walked around the outside of the property to check on the gardens. They have bloomed in an array of beautiful colors. Apparently, the renter cannot tell a weed from a plant, so I pointed out to her that I was going to come back and weed the gardens and/or hire a landscaper to do it. She said, she would ask the guy who cuts the lawn. No way, I told her. Lawn cutters are not the same as a landscaper who knows flowers and tall grasses along with trimming back roses and bushes. She again looked and sounded annoyed. Of course, it did not help that I made my way to the backyard to inspect that area as well. All in all, she takes good care of the house. I am grateful,

I do not know if I will ever move back or sell the house. I just know, it felt good.

Motherhood

And through it all, she had indeed discovered, she was a good mother afterall.

PTSD and More

I sat for hours last night fighting that horrible feeling of emptiness. Then, I gave up and just allowed myself to feel it. It always seems particularly difficult at the close of a weekend. Maybe, it is because I have to put that mask firmly in place to get through another week? Maybe, it is because night had arrived and with the night comes the quiet internal fear of the unknown. I will not pretend I have any answers, therapist/counselor/whatever I am called, does not make me invincible to emotions. I feel them. I hate to feel them.

I have all these daily readers, counselor websites, mental health and addiction websites that come onto my news' feed everyday. I pick out what is useful for my patients. Most days I ignore their messages. Today, there was an article on PTSD and three specific symptoms; intrusive thoughts, hypervigilance and avoidance behaviors. What really stuck out to me was the avoidance behaviors, especially the one where the sufferer avoids emotional connections with those they love. They pull away from those they love as to not feel any pain. I am very familiar with the intrusive thoughts, nightmares and anxiety associated with the disorder, but the avoidance behaviors, I paid very little attention. It is so textbook and so damn true.

It is wanting to be accepted, but wanting to be alone at the same time. It is wanting a normal everyday existence, perhaps the existence, one previously had, or it brings out the hidden deep dark fear that has been there all one's life, but never recognized, acknowledged or was aware. The feeling is a huge gap, a hole, a void, an emptiness that the outside world cannot fill. How, when, why or where it started does not really matter. What matters is the feeling. The here and now feeling of emptiness, loneliness, sorrow, a pain so deep, one would do most anything to avoid.

I wonder if this is the true source of addiction and/or the development of mental health disorders, which are often miss-understood.

Snap out of it! Get over it! It could be worse! You never go to anything! You avoid us! Knock it off!

OMG, if only they understood the pain.

This kind of pain leads to suicide, drug/alcohol addiction, impulsive behaviors, anger, One does not want to really die or self-medicate or even fight, one just wants the pain to end.

One pushes those closest away though one needs them more than ever. One reacts in miss-directed anger though the anger is really about the person in pain. Those around them become frustrated, aggravated and judgmental, though that is the worse possible way to address this person in pain. The person in pain needs love, understanding, compassion and patience. The person in pain needs to be pulled back into the fold not abandoned even though that person resists. Remember, someone in that much emotional pain uses resistance as a defense mechanism. What person in pain wants to set themselves up for more pain in the form of rejection?

If you know such a person, please be understanding. Time takes time or that is what they say.

Bally's and Celebrating an Anniversary

Along the Delaware Water Gap

George William Childs

 

George W. Childs

George William Childs (1829–1894) was an American publisher who co-owned the Philadelphia Public Ledger newspaper with financier Anthony Joseph Drexel.

Early life

Childs was born in Baltimore Maryland on May 12, 1829 to a poor family. He began work at age 12 in a bookstore for $2 per week while attending public school. He entered the Navy, at age 13 and served 15 months at Norfolk. After leaving the Navy in 1843, he moved to Philadelphia, becoming a clerk in a bookshop at age 14. Childs found favor with his employer, proving himself to be trustworthy in business. After shutting the shop for the evening, he was entrusted with buying books at auction for the store. By the time he was 16, he was going to New York and Boston to attend publishing trade shows.
When Childs turned 18, he took his savings, which amounted to several hundred dollars, and leasing space in the offices of the Philadelphia Public Ledger, started his own firm. While working on building his business, Childs was noted for frequently commenting on his desire to own the Ledger some day.
At age 21, Childs was offered a partnership in the publishing firm of R.E. Peterson & Co, which he accepted, and the name of the firm was changed to Childs & Peterson. Childs & Peterson grew prosperous by publishing useful if unexciting titles that reached a broad market. Peterson excelled in scientific knowledge, while Childs provided business acumen. The two partners grew the title Familiar Science into a 200,000-issue sale by interesting schools in using it as a textbook.
Childs was known throughout his life for generosity and philanthropy. He was quoted to say, "Meanness is not necessary to success in business, but economy is." This approach won him a wide circle of friends whose affection and friendship ran deep.
Childs was married to Emma B. Peterson, the granddaughter of Judge John Bouvier, a jurist born in Codognan, France. Her father was Robert Evans Peterson, a lawyer and scientist; her mother was Hannah Mary Bouvier, author of "Familiar Astronomy" and collaborator with her husband on other works. They left no children.

The Public Ledger Newspaper

The Public Ledger Building as it appeared when it opened in June 1867

On 5 December 1864, with Anthony Joseph Drexel, he purchased the Philadelphia Public Ledger, at that time a money-losing newspaper, losing about $150,000 per year. The business was squeezed by rising paper and printing costs due to wartime shortages as the country engaged in the Civil War. The paper had lost circulation by supporting the Copperhead Policy of opposing the Civil War and advocating an immediate peace settlement with the South. Most readers in Philadelphia at the time supported the Union. Publishers were reluctant to increase the one-cent subscription cost to cover the actual costs of production in the face of declining circulation. Childs bought the paper for a reported $20,000.
Upon buying the paper Childs completely changed its policy and methods. He changed the editorial policy to the Loyalist (Union) line, raised advertising rates, and he doubled the cover price to two cents. After an initial drop, circulation rebounded and the paper resumed profitability. Childs was intimately involved in all operations of the paper, from the press room to the composing room, and he intentionally upgraded the quality of advertisements appearing in the publication to suit a higher end readership. For four years he rarely left the paper before midnight.
Childs' efforts bore fruit and the Ledger became one of the most influential journals in the country. Circulation growth led the firm to outgrow its facilities, and in 1866 Childs bought property at Sixth and Chestnut Streets in Philadelphia and constructed the Public Ledger Building, which was called at the time "...the finest newspaper office in the country." It was estimated that toward the end of Childs' association the Ledger was generating profits of approximately $500,000 per year.

Main Building of Drexel University (fondness for the school as I am one of its graduates)

Close friends with Anthony Drexel for more than 40 years, Childs served as the second President of the Board of Trustees of Drexel University, succeeding the founder.

George Childs, Anthony J Drexel, James MacAlister (close friends)

Wayne Station

In 1880 Childs and Drexel purchased 300 acres (1.2 km²) west of Philadelphia along the tracks of the Pennsylvania RailRoad, an area which was to become known as the Main Line, from banker J.H. Askin. The two laid out roads, public utilities, community amenities, churches, and building lots to create "Wayne Estate", later the unincorporated community of Wayne Pa., an early example of a planned community.

The suburban village known as Wayne, on the Pennsylvania RailRoad, fourteen miles from Philadelphia, differs so much from the ordinary town allowed to grow up hap-hazard and to develop conveniences as population increases, that it is necessary, in describing it as it appears, to keep in mind some facts about its history. Wayne is not an accidental aggregation of cottages; it is a town built by design, and provided at the start with all the conveniences to which residents of cities are accustomed and which they are so apt to miss and long for when they go into the country or even into the suburbs of a great city. The scheme of the town was well thought out and planned before any of the new cottages were built, and, as it was undertaken by liberal gentlemen of abundant means, no expense was spared in the preliminary municipal work.

 

George Childs Elementary School in South Philadelphia

George Childs died in Philadelphia on the 3rd of February 1894. His wife died at the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia on 13 August 1928 at age 88. His Recollections were published at Philadelphia in 1890 and an elementary school in Philadelphia is named after him, as is the
Upon his death his employees at the Public Ledger adopted the following resolution:

"The employees of the Public Ledger, having lost by the death of George W. Childs one who has stood to them in the relation of a kind and considerate father, find it impossible to express in formal resolutions the due sense of their great loss, but nevertheless seek to record in this minute their high appreciation of his character as it has been revealed to them in daily intercourse. He was the embodiment of kindness and benevolence; his broad sympathies made him a citizen of the world, and not merely those associated with him socially and in business, but humanity itself, lost a generous friend and noble exemplar by his death.

 George W Childs was interred in Laurel Hill Cemetery

If you made it this far in the article, you will discover the patterns that connect the journey of my life. I went to a park in the mountains to hike, connect with God and myself. The park was founded by this man George Childs which led to my interest in researching his life to come across his life and connections with the very man whom founded the University I graduated from and to discover the man was interred in a cemetery I volunteered. Life comes full circle. Park = George = Anthony Drexel = Drexel University = Laurel hill Cemetery. As a post note, Anthony Drexel is interred in Woodland Cemetery.