Mother's Day 2014... gulfs of time and distance.

It's been 8 years, 5 months, 25 days since my Mom, Gloria Alice Kirchhoff Gahr, passed away on 16 November 2005.  She was 74 1/2 years old. She was remarkable, but it still really wasn't enough time.  She was a storyteller, an artist, musician, family chef, gardener and so many other things... she was a Renaissance woman, always interested in everything, there was no concept or project or form of creativity that she was afraid to tackle.  So, our childhoods were magickal... as I'm sure you can imagine.

She was the youngest daughter in a family of 10 children with 3 girls and 7 boys. She was #8 of the lot, iirc. Among her memories of her childhood were cooking for her family when she was 5 years old, standing on a stool, because her mother had narcolepsy.  There were plenty of painful stories too, but we rarely heard those.  

Mostly we heard the stories of her and her brothers, Jack & Rex, running about generally being hoodlums... going down into a neighbor's spring house and throwing rocks at the windows to break them out and things like that.  Once she saved a chipmunk from her dog, an Irish setter, but not before the critter's tail was chewed off by the dog.  She and her brothers performed surgery with scissors and saved the chipmunk's life: she named him Stumpy and he lived in a coffee can filled with horsehair jack cut out of one of the horse's tails.  He had a little tin dish for water and when he wanted more, he would emerge and bang it on the floor.  He also would ride to school in her shirt pocket. Another favorite thing she loved to talk about doing as a child was to go to a clear Missouri stream and take a huge rock and put it in her lap. She would hold her breath and open her eyes to watch the fish swim around her, especially the minnows.

She also loved the holidays... that is when the magic would really happen. We were so cocooned with love and family at that time of year, those memories are perhaps some of the happiest I will ever have. Mom in curlers running around madly on Christmas Eve making cookies and prepping for the big Christmas Day dinner... and going to midnight service... coming out in the cold air in the peaceful frosty dark.  And then opening presents and the bustle of family in our always tastefully-decorated home... it was just warm and cozy, my memories are sort of soft-focused... and feel like a cozy merino wool sweater.

There are so many stories, just pieces of her life.  She is with me, I know I am an awful lot like her and I'm glad.  She had a great sense of humor, with a sarcastic edge.  She loved to sing.  Her garden was her true joy... she so loved planting seeds and watching the baby plants grow. Her flower gardens, that surrounded the rock and brick landscaping that she accomplished herself... were always the envy of the neighborhood.

She also loved to paint and sculpt.  I have several of her creations and absolutely treasure them. They could never be replaced. She painted what she saw and remembered in her mind from her Southern Missouri childhood... trees, streams, covered bridges, old barns... and always in her style.

Her intellectual curiosity was never limited by her high school education or being a suburban mom of the 1950s and 60s, she always was a great reader.  She loved to read almost anything... especially history and novels. She had a huge collection of the Reader's Digest Condensed Books.... and would devour them when they would arrive.  She never stopped learning.

This small tribute is exactly that, small, in comparison to who she was... and was to me.  One memory seems to spur another... and I could write for years about her.  I just wish I'd had a few more years with her... maybe she should be the novel that I write.

As a mother this Mother's Day, I am missing my kids. They are wonderful people and I'm proud of them. My own daughter has her own daughter now... and that little enigma is amazing. I get to see her next week and I'm about to burst over that. And I get to see my son graduate from high school.  The years do roll on.  

Well yeah and two months have gone by.

Life has been good, just busy lately. I'm still processing the drek of "That Evil Place"... I wish it would stop. Really don't want to keep dealing with an oozing wound that doesn't seem to want to completely heal over, but I guess PTSD is like that.

It's weird, though I believed in PTSD, and I knew that many different life stressors could kick it off, I have never been so well able to identify it in my own self and situation.  I am well assured that things are going just fine in my temp job situation... but I am still worried that someone is looking over my shoulder and scrutinizing every move that I make. I think it's going to take some time to shake that uncomfortable feeling. Lack of constant and direct feedback makes me very nervous now.  If I was screwing up majorly, I know the folks where I'm at would tell me... but that niggle of doubt and discomfort is still there...

So really, I am viewing PTSD much like I view the perception of pain in different people. What might not bother me that much could be debilitating for another.  What one situation one person can brush off with ease may not be so "brushable" for another.... though it may seem like nothing to me, I don't know the whole of that other person's story, so I really cannot judge.

So things like PTSD are on a continuum and a very individual thing.  Maybe others could have gone through what I did at King County with less damage to the soul and psyche, but that damage is what I sustained, being who *I* am.  It is heartening to hear the co-workers with whom I am friends acknowledge how awful the place is. It is also heartening to simply be accepted for who I am for the most part where I am now.  It's okay to be me, myself and my fleas.

I just wish I could turn off the tap o' crap that gushes forth from time to time.  Despite all this, I am very happy. Life is open right now with our impending plan to move to Portland... I just don't know exactly where I'm heading. Back to school, most likely, really looking at becoming a Family Nurse Practitioner or getting back into something birth-related.  I just still am not completely sure what I want to do when I grow up.

One thing that continues to confuse me is when people tell me that I inspire them when I just feel like I'm blundering through life.  I am always flattered too, but I'm just living life and doing the best that I can.

The Lump in my Throat

It catches in my throat
A hate I cannot swallow
             or spit out

It's like a hardened ball of phlegm
Independent of myself
I feel it   -AND-   see it

A concentrated hatred of
     -ivory towers
     -smug superiority
     -turf war politics
     -those who need to inflict misery on others

It will continue to catch
Until it finally dissolves
Of its own accord. and with time.

Where do we do we go from here...?

Well I am almost a month out from losing my job, and in retrospect, I think it's probably the best things that could have happened to me. It gave me the gift of time... room to breathe, room to be, room to stop, time to spend with Mark as he arrived and began his adjustment...  so I hope that was good for him.

There is so much that I don't miss about that horrible place... the stress, the hours, the attitudes of certain people, the meanness, talking to people endlessly about salmonella, the feeling that I never knew what I was doing.

I guess there was a reason why it all happened... at least I like to believe that. True or not, it is comforting and helps me make sense of such an awful time.

I also need to pull some positives out of it. I got to the Pacific northwest. I got 2 new friends. I am closer to some old friends. I have processed a lot of old stuff. I'm not in Missouri anymore. I have other new friends. I'm getting to try out school nursing.

Then there is the gratitude. I have the support of so many friends around the world. my husband is here with me... and the kitties are too. I have enough money. People have been kind. I like it here. I am happier than I've been in a long time and excited about life and the possibilities that lie ahead.

I can't say that I'm not angry or hurt by what happened, but I'm choosing carefully how much I dwell on those emotions. I was ill-used by King County, but it's over. Honestly though, thinking about the county, seeing the logo, etc puts a really bad taste in my mouth. It's going to take a long time to get away from that feeling.  I honestly hope that those who follow have it better than I did.

I am both excited and nervous about the school nursing gig that starts on Monday. I think it will be a refreshing departure from what I've been doing so long.  It will also stretch me and reawaken some dormant nursing skills.  I honestly kind of glad that I took the temp gig instead of a permanent one for now.  It's also nice and close to home.  I will cover about 3 schools.  I have that job until June and then I will be going to Ft Knox KY for my summer Army training and then it will be time to find a new job.  

Just kind of letting the journey unfold.

And yes, they threatened my nursing license too…

I didn't put this out there so publicly, but now that it has come to naught, I feel it needs to be stated.  Not only did I get fired from the most toxic job I have ever held, I also had a cloud hanging over my nursing license, they really couldn't just let me go in peace, they had to make the special torture last with one last threat.

When I was canned, they told me that they had filed a complaint against my nursing license with reassurance that “these things rarely get investigated or become anything.” The reasoning they gave is that they had to cover the county in case of liability. I also spoke to the union representative who said that they used to do reports on nearly every nurse’s license and that she had to send them the state regulations and tell them to cool it.  What this tells me is that they have quite a history of filing BS complaints… and the next thing that pops up in my mind is “The why do it?!”

I think that “Why” question is the one that really sticks in my craw.  With as personal as the firing was, it just seems like it’s another way for them to twist the knife and feel like they have power.  There is also an element of them playing C.Y.A. and trying to convince the world that their feces is odorless and made of solid gold…. and that they train people well too!  No matter the reason, I have more pity than anger for them. 

The reason I was given for the complaint was a vague “you gave wrong information over the phone” to someone on 2 occasions.  I have acknowledged my mistakes all along.  I’m not perfect, and they said I didn't have to be perfect, while the unspoken subtext was that I did have to be perfect. One of these occasions I remember and I called to correct the situation as soon as I was aware of it.  The other one, I really don’t know.  However, the letter I got from the state yesterday said, “The Washington State Nursing Care Quality Assurance Commission received a report about an alleged failure to satisfactorily learn and perform duties as a public health nurse.  After careful consideration of the information received the Nursing Commission decided not to investigate because there was no violation of nursing law and it is considered an employer-employee issue.”  That is rather different, IMNSHO.

Unfortunately, I have had to mark “yes” on some job applications when asked about complaints against my license.  I had to be honest. However it shows that their petty, vindictive action has had some lasting effects that may have cost me some interviews. I cannot prove or disprove this, any more than I can about my being in the military being part of the reason that I was fired.  I just don’t understand what exactly would make a person or organization act in this manner unless it was warranted.  The good news is that I can now answer that question “no” on future applications.

Because of everything that I survived in that 3 ½ months, I am a bit bumped and bruised, but I will heal and I will prevail. They cannot take my dignity, they cannot take my soul.  They tried to tear down everything that was important to me, because they didn't “approve” of something… who I was, where I was from, my Army service, perhaps my very existence on the planet… I will never know.  In almost every situation I have done fine with people using my quirky charm, even those I haven’t liked a whole lot… but this was the rare instance and for whatever reason, there was no way I would have or could have ever fit into their special little corner of hell.  For those who have known me a long time, I will say that given a choice, I would return to the dining hall at Rhein-Main before I would the Seattle King County Public Health Department… the latter of which has earned the special distinction of being the worst job I have ever had.

I know I’m stronger for the experience.  I also know what is important to me.  I will take the gifts and walk away.

Please be kind to yourself and others.  Gentleness and compassion go a lot farther than vindictiveness and revenge.

How to train (or not to train) someone...

Sometimes, when you go through something, it takes some time to tease out what exactly the problem was with certain aspects of events.  I am finding this to be true of this recent job experience and I think it will be valuable to examine going forward.

The issue that I am really thinking about is the training piece.  I worked with some folks very well there and my direct supervisors not well at all… and the latter were the ones who pretty much sealed my fate.  I did read the performance review (after fishing the pieces out of the recycling and taping it back together) and it pretty much said that I couldn’t communicate my way out of a paper bag.  It also said that they tried to train me on how to interview people over the phone but that I improved but was never good enough.  (This was among other things, many of which were pointedly personal.)

First, lack of clear training standards, benchmarks and objectives make the training process amorphous and all too subjective.  You need something more than just a checklist that says, "you should be able to do all of this stuff by 6 months" Goals should be measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-limited.  Lack of specificity allows far too many variables, based on assumptions to take precedence over clear, measurable, progressive standards.  Also, lack of clear objectives also allows for goalposts to be moved or even removed.  A trainer can make arbitrary decisions based on how they feel, as opposed to objective reality.  Telling someone “I want you to be able to carry over ‘x-skills’ to the next task may sound clear, but doesn’t begin to take into account the nuances that differ task to task.  So a “squishy” direction like that only serves to disadvantage the recipient of such instruction.  It’s hard to tell someone that they haven’t met standards when the standards are constantly changing or unclear. It puts the trainee in a situation of never feeling secure or knowing how things are going. 

Secondly, how many times do you really think you need to tell someone what needs improvement? You should be able to tell someone something and then see if they implement, then correct as needed.  To be so unsure that someone has heard you that you feel you have to hammer home a point 10 times in the same conversation only serves to both instill that lack of confidence in the trainee. It also makes them feel that lack of trust.  Gentle reminders tend to work better than a “omfg, I can’t believe you make this stupid mistake again” attitude and approach.

Third, watching over someone’s shoulder constantly makes him or her feel like a trapped animal, heightens tension and only makes him prone to more mistakes.  A person who feels trapped and afraid is much less likely to achieve the best results.

Fourth, public ridicule/reprimand is not a good training tool.  It only serves to alienate your trainee and make them more resistant to what you are trying to train them to do.  Public belittlement is also damaging to the confidence you are trying to build, it only heightens the sense of being cornered and watched.

Fifth, micromanaging is like squeezing a fistful of mud… the harder you squeeze, the more you lose hold of.

Those are some of the things that ‘went wrong ‘in my training process.  It’s taken me nearly two weeks to be able to get most of the emotional drek out of the way to begin to a clear post-mortem on it.  The good news is that a bit of analysis gives me tools that I can use moving forward.

Rebuilding

I have many tasks right now.  A  huge one is regaining the confidence that was effectively trashed in this experience.  I also have to stop living through fear, but that entails rewiring my brain. So I have a lot of rewiring to do all over my brain.

I have a core confidence that we will get through this. I just don't like the uncertainty and that puts that uncomfortable queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. That feeling is my fear response, so I am having to learn to recognize the fear, honor it, but not let it sit with me and spiral me down into dark, negative space.... and that is so easy to do.  I don't think I am a normally depressed person, but I do have times when it gets dark and everything feels like a battle. So then the trick becomes sitting with and accepting the unknown for exactly what it is.

When the fear response sets in, it tends to dominate all processes.  But like one website I read, you have to learn to not pull the alarm bell... you can feel the fear without freaking out.  And you can intellectually know a lot of things, but until it translates into GUT knowledge, it is harder to integrate that knowledge into your process.

In this society, women are told to be humble and not take credit for their own successes. You downplay your success... while men are told to trumpet their successes to the world.  This is evident in the wage gap, the lesser value of women's work unless men have taken it up, etc.

But the truth is that I HAVE achieved a great deal. I have been a successful nurse in many settings over the past 10 1/2 years, I am a successful US Army officer, I have two great kids who are achieving in their own interesting ways, I have a successful (almost) 27 year marriage, I lost 60 lbs and have kept it off, I am an accomplished knitter and spinner, and so many more.  And what's funny is that I feel compelled to explain why I am enumerating my positives... which is a form of downplaying what I do.

Additionally, the way I was treated in school by the other kids often made me feel incompetent and stupid.  I have always been the sensitive one, easy to tears, easy to anger, easy to laugh... just generally emotional.  I was raised in a nurturing home, but when I got out into the real world and saw that other people didn't treat me or anyone else with lovingkindess, I was confused.  And honestly, I am still confused.  Things work better when you are nice and genuine with people... but only if everyone is on that same page.  Most of the time, my trust and openness has served me better than subterfuge and general asshattery... so I expect back what I am giving... and I get hurt when it doesn't work that way.

I guess you would think that after getting burned as many times as I have, I would be a hard person, but it really isn't in my nature to be that way.  I don't want to be bitter, cynical, mean.  I like having an open and happy approach to the world.  The problem is also that when I meet people who aren't trusting, the act as though I'm playing an angle or trying to get something over on them... even though I'm being genuine.

So I guess some other takeaways from this experience, apart from the learning to surrender (not in a let the world run over you way) to what is, is to learn to not tip my hand or open myself up too soon.  I need to be cautious and get the lay of the land first... or I will end up railroaded and humiliated like I did in this most recent misadventure.  Some lessons are harder won than others.