Tag Archives: counseling

The Hana Chronicles: Month 7, Day 30

0
Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 20, 2026- Hana spoke clearly-“Papa, you can do this.”, as I struggled with the safety straps on her newly-installed car seat, this morning. In the end, I needed some reminders from Aram, over the phone, but she was right, I did a thing-I got her safely strapped in and off we went to my chiropractor’s office for my semi-monthly adjustment. Hana was along for the ride, and was quiet, while I was adjusted and afterward, while I paid the tab. I got her safely strapped in for the ride home and the rest of the day was quiet.

My granddaughter is going through a growth spurt, both physically and mentally. She is nearly 30″ tall and almost 19 pounds. Her vocalizations are ever more understandable. She can project her voice quite well-and not just when she is upset. She also likes to get into mischief, and so has had some clear boundaries drawn, which she is slowly accepting without a whole lot of fuss. “No playing with food, or eating utensils” is my mantra at lunch and dinner.

HANA’S NOTE- I thought it was funny to open my mouth and let food fall out. Papa didn’t think so, and it was put right back on my spoon and back into my mouth. Oh, well, at least he plays around with me in the playpen.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2003 I had a steady job for the 2002-03 Academic Year-as an elementary school counselor for a small group of Special Needs students. It was only for a year, but it gave me a chance to do what I do best, professionally.

That was about the only thing that approached normality in this most jarring of years. In late April, Penny felt faint, while waiting for a Memorial Service to start, in a treeless cemetery, in east Phoenix. She fell backwards and her head hit a cinder block. She said she felt fine afterwards, but we got her checked at an ER for good measure. Not much out of the ordinary showed on the brain scan.

Two weeks later, as she was prepping for an unrelated procedure, she again lost her balance and fell into a bathtub, hitting her head against the wall tiles. This triggered a long-dormant neurological disease. Gradually, she went from walking more slowly on her own, to needing a cane, By October, she needed to use a walker.

We moved out of Sierra Pines, in early September, having purchased a nice, cozy one-story house, in a fairly quiet neighbourhood, in midtown Phoenix, on the near west side. Moving was accomplished over Labor Day weekend. By then, I had secured a job as a mathematics teacher, at a middle school, three blocks north of the house. I could walk to work. Penny still worked at El Mirage, but had moved into a Special Education position. Aram was a sophomore at Cortez, despite having moved out of its attendance area.

My choice of jobs was another bad move. Though I got along with most of the students, and both of my female co-teachers, relations with the Team Lead and with the administrators were not good. Their thinly-veiled disdain for my disabled wife made things that much worse.

One bright spot, though, was a 75th birthday celebration for my mother, who had never had a celebration in her honour, alone, in all my years, anyway.. Most of her surviving siblings were there, along with a few of my Dad’s siblings and the oldest of her grandchildren. We spent the next day in Boston, taking in some of her favourite sites, riding around on a “jump on and off” bus. We ended the weekend with a large gathering in her backyard, with all the grandchildren present. Family can be healing.

A Queen and Her Precipice

2
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 5, 2022– It’s been a busy day, with a service project and two meetings to keep me honest, until mid-afternoon. This is all part of what Elizabeth Peru talks about, when discussing keeping the soul relevant and staying connected to the Oneness. Besides, I do things that I enjoy.

It is also bittersweet, as the morning paper brought an essay on Cheslie Kryst. The suicide of any young, highly intelligent, sassy, multi-talented and comely human being is a disaster, at both a deeply personal and a profoundly social level. I looked at the images of Cheslie and could only think, “God, I wish I had known her, could have intuited something was wrong and reached out. ” If I have been guilty of overkill in any area, it has been of a near obsession with the well-being of the younger generations.

Yet, I leave my son to forge his own destiny, while dropping everything when he calls. The thing is, he knows he CAN CALL, day or night, and I will drop everything else. I devote snippets of time, here and there, to those in my circle of friends, of all ages, whose issues are chronic, even seemingly intractable, with the understanding that I will get over to see them or at least talk with them, when I can. The bottom line is that each one continues to matter, and none need consign themselves to the scrap heap.

Cheslie Kryst had family who loved her dearly; friends and mentors who guided her, the best they knew how to guide. She had a loving group of well-wishers, who cheered her on, throughout her wonderful moments of triumph. There was also a chorus of dementors, who hounded her to end her life, and in that final, terrible end moment of dejection, that last group forced her hand.

Simply put, no one deserves the fate wished on them, by those whose own lives are miserable and who lack the courage to set those wrecked houses in order. No one deserves to feel so alone, even in the dark of night or early morning. If you read this, know that, in a moment of despair, you may reach out and I will find a way to send out a message of hope-that you may back away from that ledge of doom.

Fortnight of Transition, Day 5: Whose Children Matter?

2
Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Uncategorized

September 13, 2020-

In some of my response to reports of abused and neglected children, it has come back at me that these particular campaigns are cherry-picked, Right-Wing trope activities. Maybe so, but I personally don’t cherry-pick, as to which children get attention and which go without.

Early in my counseling career, a severe sexual assault case was brought to me and the Response Team was in the midst of getting the victim to safety, when a call came about another child threatening suicide. I asked my senior partner to take that case and get back to me, once the child had been evaluated. This was unusual, for the particular community to have two victims at the same time, but there was no daylight, no distinction, between one child and the other.

One red flag, which discomfits many, is a child who gets too close, who hugs too tightly or even wants to sit on a non-related adult’s lap. I’ve dealt, gently, but firmly, with several such children, almost always girls-and who were either being totally ignored, shunned by their father or were being grommed by an adult either in, or known to, their immediate family. Getting the father to acknowledge, and spend quality time with, his daughter was relatively easy. The girls being taught sexual behaviours had, however, to be removed from the home and placed in group homes, where experienced professionals were able to give them the advanced therapy they needed.

I think of these children, a few of whom have kept in touch, as adults and are doing quite well, considering the ordeals that came their way. I think of them all the more, in light of the current Netflix film, “Cuties”, which uses exhibitionism as a vehicle to “combat sexual exploitation of children”. Counterintuitive, at best, and exploitative in itself, at worst, I see the showing of the film as a serious error in judgement. There was a period, from the mid-1990s to the late 2000s, when young European and South American girls were featured in some rather lurid websites-with the sites’ owners and photographers claiming their work was “art”. Fortunately, Interpol, the FBI, the government of Chancellor Angela Merkel, of Germany, and, wondrously, the Russian FSB, at the direction of Vladimir Putin, took these sites down and the long process of finding and rehabilitating the child victims was initiated. I would not want to see anything close to that horrific state of affairs be repeated.

That said, the vast majority of sexual and physical abuse of children takes place in situations familiar to them, at the hands of people whom they ought to be able to trust. This makes it both simple and complex, for the helping professional- Simple, in that the child is easy to locate and remove from the home; complex, in that there is often a culture of denial in place, largely based on fear of disruption and dislocation of the family unit.

Getting co-operation from the other family members is completely dependent on their degree of self-assurance and cohesiveness, independent of the perpetrator(s). In a close-knit community, even law enforcement officers. medical staff and social services workers, if they are related to the perpetrator, can be a hindrance to justice for the victim.

All these factors come into play with regard to obtaining justice, and if the matter involves a child, or multiple children, being groomed in sexual behaviour, there needs to be both a swift separation of perpetrator(s) and victim(s) and active therapeutic measures initiated as quickly as possible.

No child, anywhere, is less important than any other.

Destiny and Metamorphosis

5
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

May 13, 2019-

A dear friend posted, on another media site, that we are ever in a state of metamorphosis.  This has nothing to do with the shape-shifting that was all the rage, on television and in film, as recently as two years ago (“Game of Thrones”, “Power Rangers”, etc.)  Metamorphosis is best-seen in terms of growth.

I have also read quite a bit, elsewhere, on narcissism.  I once had a touch of that affliction.  My mother never let that horse out of the gate.  She told us that one who regards self as above reproach is dead in the water.

That’s true beyond doubt.  In the course of dividing up the contents of a bin, I re-read some old papers from my administrative and college-teaching days.  One, invaluable, summary of my students’ evaluation of a rather paltry teaching effort, in 2009, pointed out that I trended towards hidebound monotony, complete with soft, unchanging voice, in presenting what should have been a vibrant, challenging course.

When I returned to teaching, after Penny’s passing, the presentation became more vigorous and engaged.  The old dog had to master new tricks.

Likewise, in younger years, my disciplinary tactics included the bellow, and a harsher tone.  Being a full-time counselor “metamorphosed” my demeanor towards favouring my empathic side, and the hardness of my teacher training went out the window.  I have kept that empathy, yet have also learned to employ a modicum of taking people to task, when that appears necessary, though without being rough or demeaning.

Nowadays, my life-change continues. I am in the process of giving many of my professional materials to others.  Work, as I have known it for the past forty-three years, has a light at the end of its tunnel:  One and a half years remain, until my focus becomes largely travel-journalism and Work Away-based, with a healthy mix of family, perhaps even grandparenthood.  There may be some money, in the former, but I am not worried about that.

My destiny, it seems, has always been to go forward, to build bridges and to not be held to anyone else’s notions of success-no matter how well-meaning those may be.  This may require a few more positive life-changes.