I Think I Belong to a Gang Now?

Behold, our gang colours!

I officially joined the Sounds of Superior chapter of the Sweet Adelines.  [Insert Homer's Barbershop Quartet Joke Here]  I hang out with a group of women who dress exactly the same and pressure me into activities I would not normally do on my own.

Me and "North Lenore"

I had to wear hooker makeup.  We went and sang at the Bingo Hall (which is a 2 minute walk from my appartment, but they picked me up so that I would be "safe").  Next Sunday, we're doing the TBay Rotary "Sing Out."  I am not entirely convinced I won't have to kill a stranger to prove my loyalty.

Nancy is the nicest woman on earth.

Lana's a newbie like me!

But seriously... when I officially passed my audition and joined, the incredibly group of mostly septuagenarians held hands in a circle and sang a welcome song the likes of which could only be rivaled by all the Whos down in Whoville. I wasn't crying... YOU were crying!  Who would have thought this is where I'd feel most welcome and that Monday nights plucking out 4-part harmonies would be the highlight of every week.

As soon as I get the video to stop being upside down, I will post footage of the Christmas Party that happened tonight.  Thank you for being so incredibly welcoming, Sweet Adelines!

Xmas Xcitement in TBay

I've been trying to get out there and be social.  In Thunder Bay this means going to a lot of Xmas themed events at churches.  So far none of the places of worship have spat me out and I'm keeping my "atheist nonsense" to myself out of politeness. 

This psalm always freaked me out.  Was god supposedly afraid when he made me?  Or was I afraid?  Either way...

Xmas angel, Marlene.

And for the most part, I've had a very nice time.  For some reason, the people I've met through these specific event have been WAY nicer than the church people I met during my first week here.  How many ministers do you know who sport angel wings when saying the blessing?  

So full. So jittery.

I've also been so stuffed full of food you could dress me in red and call me Santa.  I forgot how well one gets to eat at church basement events!  And the silly bridal-shower like fun that is to be had when a group of women gets together to celebrate each other and be served by the men in their lives.  Yes, yes, it all felt incredibly heteronormative!  And that was fine.  Wanna know why?  Because when these ladies, almost all of whom were senior citizens, asked me about my work, I told them that I do a lot of stuff with young people who are dealing with issues around people accepting their sexual orientations and gender identities - and they were interested, respectful, and curious.

Then we decorated gingerbread cookies.  It was awesome.

18 wheels and lit up!

Like Florida!

I've also been privy to a few other TBay xmas traditions.  For example, I was sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, when I heard the world coming to an end outside my window.  It sounded like every transport truck and emergency vehicle in the city was driving by with horns and sirens a-blazing.  When I peaked outside, I noted that this was absolutely true.  Apparently Thunder Bay has a night parade-of-lights every year during which every transport truck and emergency vehicle owner attaches as many xmas lights as possible to their rides as possible and then parades down the main street with horns and sirens a-blazing.  I have no idea what happens if someone needs a delivery of 8 million iceberg lettuces or has a heart attack during this time.  But it matters not, for it was a glorious sight (out of my window from a block away and photographed with a cell phone - don't judge me!)

Making friends.

Xmas throw-up.

Finally, I have decorated my own little tree (artificial, came with the apartment) with dollar store garland and donated ornaments.  The spirit of the season is indeed in my apartment.  And that's good because I'm not sure I'll be going outside again for some time.  As I write this post it is -16 C.

I went to another TBay xmas dealie today - a place called Vanderwee's where xmas has metaphorically thrown up all over the walls.  It was glorious!  They also had nice tea.  So yeah, I'm still lonely but I'm trying to make it work. :)

 

Long Story - Dear Dil

Long Story

 Although many of you will point out that this is also "work," I'd like to report that I found something to do on the weekends up here.  I'm writing an "advice" column for a video game.  Awwwww, yea!

The game is called  "Long Story" and it's a narrative game about adolescent relationships.  AND... and and and aaaaaaaand, you can play it as a character who identifies outside of the gender binary.  It is totally freakin' awesome!  I believe you can download the first chapter of the game for free to try it out.  If you have a tween or young teen in your life, especially one who is struggling with sexual identity issues or identifies as LGBTQQ2SA, this is likely a great outlet for them.  Players learn to navigate relationships with peers, teachers, parents, and quirky school mascots.

Recognize anyone?

But the most awesome part might just be the tumblr advice column by yours-truly. Click here for the first installment.  

It's nice to be writing even slightly helpfully for younger folks again, especially when the world feels like it is descending into chaos around us.  I'm reminded of the multitudes of empathetic, deeply compassionate and caring people who are involved in making the world better -- in their work and in their day-to-day interactions with all sorts of folks they encounter.  Thank you to the team at Bloom Digital for this opportunity to work with them in nurturing healthy relationship development.

Talk soon,
Counsellor Dil

Arkham North

First things first: http://www.netnewsledger.com/2016/11/19/26th-annual-rotary-christmas-parade/

At 6:00 you can see my supervisor is dressed like Ceasar Romero era Joker -- it is extremely cold and windy.  If you watch much more, try not to make any comparisons to Toronto's Santa Claus parade.  If you do this, you will not be very popular with the locals.  And whatever you do, don't laugh your ass off when the Pita Pit mini-car goes by.  It was a million degrees below 0 with the wind so I left after the rescue dogs went past.  The great news about this parade is that you can get a seat, literally ANYWHERE along the parade route even if you show up after it's started! 

Interestingly, I also stated my minor rotation at the local psychiatric hospital this week.  Psychosis is the hardest thing I can imagine.  The people who work here are angels on earth.  I really like my supervisor there; she understands that I am doing this rotation specifically because it makes me afraid.  It occurs to me that there is SO MUCH I want to tell you that I can't.  Let's just say this is the first time I have ever worked with someone who was 100% intent on cutting my head off.  Thankfully, it kept growing back.  Can you imagine how terrifying that must be?  No, not for me, for the patient.  To be so terrified that you were willing to kill and see your horrifying enemies' heads reattach themselves before your eyes?

In other news, there is now a ton of snow on the ground and I am incredibly happy I chose the winter tires with studs.  Those + 4-wheel drive and I will make it to work at Arkham*, Children's Arkham, and various Satellite Arkhams on time every day!

*Note my use of the word Arkham is intended for humour and the delight of comic book references only - and not to stigmatize. After all, my supervisor dressed up as the Joker and stood in a cardboard cell labelled such in -10C for hours this weekend.

Thunder Box (in my pants!)

Given that there is a recent spate of evil clowns terrorizing the eastern seaboard and given that I was too scared to sleep after Shaun of the Dead, no one is more surprised than me that my co-residents talked me into going to this with them:

It was super-goofy.  And of course, as dusk fell, and even though I knew I was perfectly safe and that the creepy figures were volunteers who had told explicitly not to "inappropriately touch" me [and not just me, but everyone!], I still screamed myself horse.

Now I really want to see the fort when it's not "haunted."

The 11th Hour

I gotta tell ya, working an 11.5 hour day is much harder at 41 than it was at 28.  And yet, [prepare to read me shameless brag of my own genetic awesomeness], the psychologist who works (I almost said "lives") in the office next to mine noted that it must not be too bad at my tender age of "28... 29?  You can't be 30 yet!"

I hugged her without checking if that was okay first.  I apologized after and checked in to see if it made her uncomfortable (she was fine with it); it's just that I couldn't freaking believe another adult would miss my age by more than 10 years.  Initially I was all "whoo-hoo - I look young!"  And then I started feeling conflicted about it.  I'm 41.  I earned 41.  I've done two undergraduate and (almost) 3 graduate degrees as well as 2 professional program certificates.  I'm gonna be a psychologist (a good one), I've dealt with trauma (mine and others), I've travelled, I've been the president of a union, I've been married for 10 years, psychotherapy for a million... I started to feel like the time I was 23 and got passed over for a theatre director assistant position because I "hadn't suffered enough."

Thank you for what I know was a genuine misperception of my age and large reaction that was intended as a compliment.  But here's the thing.  I'm fucking 41.  I really struggle with this sometimes (middle age health problems, living with the heartbreak of infertility while so many friends announce their pregnancies and FB about their amazing children, already having problems with word retrieval) -- but I don't actually want people to think I'm younger than I am.

A lot of folks in my profession deal with imposter syndrome.  We're expected to know a lot and be full of wisdom to boot.  Even though at times I still feel like an insecure 16 year old navigating her first retail job, I want folks to have confidence in me.  I want all the shit I've been through to be reflected in people's respect for the belief that I've put in my time learning this job.  But not just that, also that I actually have picked up a bit of that wisdom thing along the way.  I have an awesome colleague (another resident) who is very petite and has a baby face.  She tends to dress ultra professional and in styles that are popular among folks about 10-20 years her senior so that people "won't think [she's] a teenager."  And I get it.  How folks perceive us in our profession is actually really freakin' important.

I wonder how I'll navigate continuing to be my authentic (read: wacky eccentric individual actually has a personality) self while cultivating my professional image in middle age?  I wonder this alongside the mulling over of how I will make a career out of serving children and adolescents when I never get to have one of my own without becoming a nasty, resentful, therapy-sabotaging Freud-hole.  I wonder these things. 

But I probably shouldn't try too hard to figure them out when I worked an 11.5 hour day straight through.  Another time.  Your thoughts are welcome.  Although fair warning: tell me that everything happens for a reason and I will pay for a last minute flight from Thunder Bay straight to your house to punch you in the throat.  :)




Oh, here's are pictures of my awesome co-resident and friend
at the country fair.  She's a kindred spirit and we had a hoot riding trains and taking pictures of inexplicable contest entries.

 Peace out.  Moo. 41 and balancing maturity with acting like a little kid.

Reach Out Your Hand If Your Cup Be Empty, If Your Cup Is Full May It Be Again

Quickly and ineloquently now, or I'll never get anything written again:

This has been hard.  Moving to Thunder Bay alone and trying to make friends has felt like the first day of kindergarten (dropped off without even knowing the name of my teacher or what door to go in), the first day of highschool ("Hey 2%!  No not you, you homo!), and the first few months of my first year of university (only queer person on my floor, only person who didn't drink, only person who gave a fuck about learning).  You get the idea.  It is lonely work to put your emotional and social resilience to the test.  I've had bizarre interactions that made me wonder if I was in that sci-fi story where people are punished by being 100% ignored by everyone around them (BONUS if you can tell me the name of that story because it is driving me CRAZY).  Then slowly, occasional run ins with kindred spirits -- don't come on too strong or you'll scare them away...  Really awesome supervisors that I would love to socialize with but can't because of the dual relationship problem.  Then being invited somewhere but genuinely having too much work to do.  It's bonkers.

Then I met this lady:

And a bunch of her awesome friends at Sounds of Superior Chorus (a subset on the international association of Sweet Adelines).  They welcomed me with open arms, wanted to get to know me, and gave me cookies!  It was like being greeted by 35 of the words most awesome grandmothers and aunties!  And they sing 4-part harmony as a chorus, basically barbershop for large groups of women.  AND they need "tenors."  These are the super-high doo-woop voices.  I am happy to oblige.  I'm also not saying a word about having been formally trained as an opera singer.  I just want to have fun!
And I am!

This awesome woman called me out of the blue to tell me that she thinks it must be hard to be in my shoes here all alone and would I like to do some fun stuff with her and her daughter?  She ended the phone call by saying, "I just can't wait to become friends with you!"

Naturally, I was immediately overjoyed.  Then I got nervous!  What would the other shoe be when it inevitably dropped?  Geriatric sex assault?  Grannie fight club?  Run of the mill religious cult?  As it turned out, she's just kind of awesome.  Tonight we went to "Empty Bowls" - a fundraiser for the local shelter system and food bank.  We had a ton of fun.  And I met her awesome daughter who is also super sweet and we talked at length about how she wants to make Thunder Bay a "kinder" place.

The both put up with my selfies.

And I get to meet up again tomorrow night to sing.  One of our numbers is a barbershop arrangement of Queen's Your My Best Friend.

Seriously, this is what I needed.  Everything is not perfect, but I know that one night a week I get to hang out with some pretty awesome ladies and sing my little heart out.  And no one is pressuring me to do a solo or show off that coloratura thing.

Tomorrow I have to do a giant psychoeducational group at the Regional about stress reduction for cardiac patients.  I want to tell them to just join Sounds of Superior.

Again, forgive my inelegence.  I just wanted you to know.

The Saddest Thing That Ever Happened

The bag was formerly filled with two bottles of wine.  Pictured, it is filled with wine and lots of glass.

A Note from the Far Side (of Thunder Bay)

Wow.  Busy.  Please note I am writing this post at the breakfast table - otherwise we'd never connect.  It's strange to be so busy and so lonely at the same time.  But it does distract me!  To those of you to whom I owe personal emails and old-school letters, I haven't forgotten.  It's just that I have to document my time in three different computer systems, all of which apparently run on steam.  Proper letters and notes are coming; I just need to get the internship engine running a bit more smoothly first.

Despite being outfitted for the proper protective gear, the zombie apocalypse has not yet occurred.  So I got to run my first psychoeducational group at the hospital!  If you're friends with me on FB, you may have seen my desperate plea for a specific Far Side cartoon:

In case you haven't guessed, the group was about Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR).  I wanted to challenge the notion that stress is supposed to roll off of us like, well, some sort of liquid off a duck's back.  The cartoon suggests to me that they are on, at least, their second duck.  It was a great group of cardiac rehab patients, mostly older folks with just wonderful attitudes toward learning this new skill.  Most of my training so far has been with children and adolescents, so running a group with older adults was a great experience for me. 

As far as MBSR, I've been a Jon Kabat-Zinn gal since I started practicing myself back in the mid-00s.  Recently a friend of mine suggested I check out Pema Chodron's How to Meditate.  I also found Stahl has a CD of meditations specifically for cardiac patients! Mindfulness is really huge in psychology right now and I'm curious what its staying power will be.  I mean, hey, just because it's been popular in the east for thousands of years doesn't mean that the west will take to shifting out of the addictive doing mode into "just being."  But it certainly is catching on like wildfire for now.  Last night I was involved in another group (this time a dialectical behavioral therapy skills group) that teaches mindfulness as a key tool for distress tolerance and emotional regulation.  As I sat through the group considering how this could help the teens and families attending, it occurred to me (not for the first time) that this stuff is just really useful for everyone.

So as I struggle with the stress and the loneliness, I remind myself to be mindful in the present moment.  Aaaand, that it probably wouldn't kill me to get back to my formal practice, would it?  As they old saying goes, "You should meditate for 20 minutes everyday, unless you don't have time. Then you should meditate for an hour."

Working at a Hospital(s) is Nutz

This is what I did today.

I am now fit tested for an outbreak mask.

I also learned, at least theoretically, how to intubate our CPR mannequin, Simon.

CPR is exhausting.

Apparently, the best tempo is to "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees.  Very fitting.

Totally ready for my shift at the hospital in the event of a zombie apocalypse.

That is all.

Life's a Thunderbowl of Cherries

Sometimes we have a rough week.  Last week was pretty rough.  After so many years of intense impression management with a few key professional and social supports who were either dismissive of empathy or unable to connect with it (it's amazing how a few bad experiences can taint one's worldview), I find myself struggling with some pretty hefty anxiety symptoms.  Although all preliminary reports of the people in my new work environments are good (these people are kind, professional, have good role clarity, regularly examine their privilege), my HPA axis refuses to believe that I am safe.  Plus I am attempting to negotiate new relationships with health professionals, find a hairdresser, and figure out why so many RMTs up here are super into woo.  The first one recommended past life regression.  The most recent one wanted me to try the Impulse IQ adjusting machine.  This thing looks like a gun and it pointed at the head and necks of smiling patients in the brochure.  Brochure quotes a lot of "research" but there are no references.  The brochure claims the instrument treats "fatigue."  Uh-huh.

High breathing, chest pains, difficulty concentrating, spiraling thoughts: Panic attacks.  

Oh... great.  I was kinda hoping those were behind me.  They are very hard to power through in a work situation.  Maybe... perhaps... just possibly, I may have at one point needed to lock the door to my office and quietly sob for a few minutes.

Then I cam home and cried there too.

It's really hard for a lot of us at this point.  We're so close to the end yet the experiences of abuse due to the power imbalance and lack of perceived rights of students over the course of the graduate degree(s) has left a lot of us consistently on edge.  It's hard to believe we might be in a safe environment.  Even if we suspect (or even know) that we are safe, our bodies don't want to believe us.  They are waiting for the big reveal of the person in power whose own supervisor was an abusive douchecanoe and they TURNED OUT JUST FINE so THEY'LL SAY AND DO WHATEVER THEY WANT to me.  I'm 98% sure that I am safe here.  But I'm still painfully lonely and in a state of near constant cortisol flood levels.

I'm breathing.  Of course.  In.  Out.  Repeat.   And I'm working hard to meet new people and be open to all the potential relationships that may delight me in unexpected ways.  I suspect they're coming.  And I'm taking the approach of making this residency my learning opportunity.  I've already done the evaluation piece.  I've been scrutinized.  I've got this far.  Time to make some collegial relationships and learn the shit out of what I'm interested in.  Yes, that's what I want to do -- if my stress-ridden body can find the bloody energy and focus to pay attention instead of trying to convince me my heart is in a vice.

So time to grab my coffee and head into my last day of orientation.  Don't worry; I switched to decaf.

Wondering what this photo is about?  Stay tuned for my next blog post about the different ways in which my various internship sites remind me of Kubrick's The Shining.

Cluster-thund

I cannot prove all but 3 of my vaccinations.  Apparently doctors don't pass this on when you get a new one and they fax over your giant medical history!  And OHIP doesn't track it.  WTAF?  So guess who took a lorazepam to prepare for her extensive bloodwork, only to find the lab tech went home for the day?  And then guess who had to go to supervision?

It was a very relaxed supervision.

Then I tried to contact the EAP so I could request a dietitian referral because the one from Toronto isn't working out.  Apparently, the EAP is only open during business hours, you know, when you are at work.  So you have to call this confidential service at a time when your boss and colleagues are very likely to overhear you.  [slow clap]  Oh.  BRA. vo.

Then I had to spend 30+ minutes on the phone with Epson to find out that the printer that my extremely thoughtful FIL sent to me has a hardware defect and they will replace it, but only if I send it back with the original receipt.  An original receipt for something that was a gift.

And the vet finally called me back with Thatcher's blood/urine results, but still didn't include in her message why my damn cat came home with a limp when she didn't have one before! 

So that's it.  I'm not talking to another service or helping professional for... oh who am I kidding?  You know I'll be talking to one of them pretty much at 9am.

Oh, and someone in the hospital parking lot dinged my damn car door.  White paint.  Jerk.

FSM, give me strength.  I fear that when I return home, I will have become a hardened vigilante or masked, morally ambiguous super hero/villain.  Sigh... maybe I should take another lorazepam?  If they weren't potentially addictive and inclined to provide diminishing returns then maybe... But I am a responsible gal.

Seriously though; Oy-vey.

A Month of Orientation and People who say "Orientated"

I am already concerned that I come across as a snobby Torontonian here in Thunder Bay.  I'm definitely in more of a hurry and concerned with things being "proper" than most folks I've encountered.  But now I fear I am known as the woman who argues with trainers in orientation.  What I know I am is the woman who can't allow trainers to misrepresent research in presentations and will correct them when I clearly know they are wrong.

I don't think other folks necessarily get the difference.

I have many many many days worth of orientation between the 4 sites I will work at.  Different sites have different record keeping procedures and way to chart patients.  I will never figure why I was trained on a Hoyer Lift.  I have a pin that declares I know how to wash my hands (it's harder than you think!).  AND, and and and and... I am now certified in non-violent crisis intervention.  This certification, however, in no way means that I feel comfortable doing non-violent crisis intervention.  By the way, did you know that psychologists are in the running for most-likely-to-be-violently-attacked-on-the-job?  Yay!  And because we genuinely give a rat's ass about patients and don't want to hurt them or make them feel bad for things they have trouble controlling, we don't want to hurt them when we get out of harm's way.

Here's the thing.  I used to do Judo.  Not a lot, and not for very long.  But let's just say that my previous training, as well as all the women's self-defense classes I've taken, are really well ingrained in my mind.  Having protected myself from a rough-and-tumble older brother for the first 18 years of my life, I'm primed to retaliate swiftly and without mercy.  In fact, just ask my brother about the time I accidentally knocked him out cold after he shoved me on my bike.  [I was 10 or younger and paid my debt by delivering all his newspapers that day.]  These knee-jerk defenses are hard to overcome.  But rest assured, I was non-violent all day, even during the role-plays!  They gave me the certification!  I'm non-violent, dammit!

This really awesome dude, Remon, did a great job putting up with my corrections (as well as the constant grilling I and the other psychology residents gave him).  He kept great humour and really played well to the rest of the house, which was made up of PSWs, nurses, and housekeeping/food services staff.

Remon was a phenomenal trainer and was kind enough to allow me to post this picture of him on my blog.  One of the things that delighted me most about his workshop was how down-to-earth he was and how easily he got on with all the hard-working types in the room.  He is clearly a muscular man (extensive martial arts training), and it delighted me that a north-western Ontario (think Fargo-lite + strong-hoser) came out of his finely coiffed and finely dressed personage.  Delightful!

I do get to actually start work this week (assessments, whooo!), but there is more orientation to come.  I am doing my best not to correct well meaning colleagues who ask, "Are you all orientated yet?" in all earnestness.  And I hope for the same consideration when I breach Thunder Bay social etiquette and come across like a jerk-ass big city snob.

Have you ever found yourself unable to hold back from correcting someone even though it was not the socially graceful thing to do?  Share your experience in the comments!

NA na na NA na na NA NA -- THUN-DER!

[This is the post I would have published if I had been on top of the blog from day 1.  Leaving day.]

At 15 minutes before my dissertation defense, I could be found loudly singing this intro to ACDC's Thunderstruck while dancing around the conference room wildly pumping my fists into the air.  At least, that's how the Chair of my committee found me... It was also this refrain that I imagined would play as I pulled out of the driveway in Toronto to begin my internship year in Thunder Bay.  Instead, my husband was excited to put on a "randomized playlist" he created.  So as we sat in the 4:30am darkness, instead of defiant triumph we heard:

"A salvation army band played, and children drank lemonade..."

For those of you who didn't grow up in the 80s, these are the first words to Life in a Northern Town by Dream Academy.  And for those of you who don't know me very well, it cued instant tears.  Sobbing.  I couldn't believe I was leaving my home - the first place I had ever truly felt at home in my life.

Soon the sobs and alternative folk rock would be drowned out by the yowling of a geriatric kitty cat who, though relieved we weren't going to the vet, was prepared to harmonize for the entire 2 day road trip.  Here is a picture of her with Mr. Husband in the MacDonald's parking lot when we stopped for breakfast:

We arrived in Sault Ste Marie that evening and basically passed out.  But not until having a bite to eat and meeting some friendly bears:

The Soo, as it is called, is just gorgeous.  I wished we could have stayed awake to enjoy a hike or something.  But as we were up at 3am, it just wasn't going to happen.  The next day, we planned to haul ass to our final destination.  Looking back, what I remember most was that I just couldn't believe I was actually doing this -- leaving.

So, there will be a handful of posts that come quickly now, to catch us up to present day.  I had planned on setting up a wordpress blog, but for reasons uninteresting even to myself, it's not happening.  I'll stick with blogger for now and hopefully some of you will follow along and keep in touch, because I really freakin' miss you.