SITC - Week One, St. Nicholas

Sunday:
I drove up early to meet with Deacons Pam and Diana about the week, stopping on the way to get a GRE study book. Thomas and Rachel met me for a picnic in the park, where some lady said she was hungry and asked for our food. So we gave it to her. I gave Thomas and Rachel a quick tour of the Cathedral, and then they left and I went to my meeting. While in said meeting, I was informed there was no air conditioning on the third floor where we were staying because it had been blown out by the storm a few days prior. Uh oh. So we got all our ministries together, and then me and Kristen (the other intern) went shopping for food at Fiesta (our grocery store) for the week. As we were heading back we met the lady who asked for our food at lunch, and she said she had seen Jesus in us, and she hadn't seen that in a while. She also wanted $4 for the boarding house down the street. So after getting all of our stuff in and settled, the group from St. Nicholas arrived. 14 kids and 2 adults. We moved in, and went to this amazing bilingual Eucharist they have at the Cathedral called Unidos. The songs are in Spanish, and the Eucharist is in English. LOVE it. We even sang a rendition of the Lord's Prayer in Spanish set to the music of Sound of Silence. Really wonderful service. Then we had some dinner, and after that, proceded to have a tour of the Cathedral, do rules and covenants, say Compline and then move all of the kids mattresses down 2 flights of stairs to sleep in the great hall, which was air conditioned. Me and Kristen slept on lawn chairs. Woo!

Monday: We woke up early to move everything back up those two flights of stairs, said some morning prayer, ate breakfast, and went to work with Bishop's Camp. We set up the library, read with some of the groups, and had art, P.E., board games, math, and all sorts of fun, they ate lunch with the kids, and spent all afternoon with them. Well, that afternoon we were supposed to go to a ministry. However, the person who planned all our ministries was called away suddenly, and left us without contact information. We tried calling the group, but no one answered, and when someone drove over there, no one was there. They were also supposed to provide us dinner. So, impromptu, Kristen and I went shopping for dinner, made it ourselves (with the help of our wonderful Cathedral friend Lucy, who's a chef), and pulled a ministry out of thin air. I had brought craft supplies with me, so we made place mats for the Kairos prison ministry, and wrote letters to soldiers. It went really well. That night they worked on their skit, and then we said Compline and went to bed.

Tuesday: We woke up, said morning prayer, ate breakfast, and preformed the skit at Bishop's Camp. Then we went at worked at the community gardens at Our Savior Episcopal Church in Dallas. We harvested 63 pounds of food! It was so cool. And then we took the food to Buckner Crisis Center to donate. After that we came back to Bishop's Camp, ate with the kids and spent the afternoon with them. We had some "Turtle Time" (Nap Time), bible study, evening prayer, dinner (by the Cathedral Choir, who preformed as well!), and working on skits again, Compline, and bed.

Wednesday: Same morning routine, skit, and we spend all day at Bishop's Camp today. Afterward, we had bible study, some Pizza for dinner, and then went to serve dinner at Austin Street Centre (a homeless shelter). The kids did great, and there was this amazing 4 year old little girl who worked with us who wanted to help becuase these people "didn't have any toys". She worked so hard too. And the kids were awesome. Then we came back home, worked on skits, Compline, and bed.

Thursday: Morning routine, skit, and - Surprise! - meet the Bishop! I was able to set this up on Wednesday (so scared), and the Bishop gave the kids a tour of the Diocesean Offices, and let them ask him questions about being a bishop. It was wonderful. After that, we went to Manegait Theraputic Equestrian Center, and cleaned tack, washed mats, and pulled grass! It was hot and sweaty work. Then the kids got to learn how to groom a horse, and fed them carrots. We then returned home for stone soup night, where the kids learn about a minimum wage family's budget, and then have to cook a meal on that. So the 14 kids got $14 to make a meal for all of us (18 people) + plus guests. (there turned out to be three guests, we always invite people, so Matt invited his wife and two small children.) They did a great job. Then skits again, bible study, Compline, and bed.

Friday: We woke up, cleaned, did a skit, went to Eucharist (with the Bishop!), and then packed up and left! When I got home, I ate, and slept for most of the rest of the day. Working 8am to 10pm is tiring.

And also Saturday: Saturday I woke up, worked a little around the house, went to Medieval Times with the family for Fathers Day, and went to see the Proposal with Rachel, Thomas, Kristen, and Kristen's sister Bethany.




Memorable Quotes: "Kool, and the gang." "Don't confuse soup love with real love." "Focus: Even if it's shiney."

How My Day Went

So my mom is out of town for a few days, and she put me in charge. Here's how today went:

Characters:
Nicole - Sister, age 20
Joe - Brother, age 19
Matt - Brother, age 19
Brandi - Sister, age 11 (Functions like a 3 month old)
Jeremiah - Nephew, just turned 2 (Nicole's Son)
Joshua - Nephew, 6 weeks old (Nicole's Son)
Marian - Brandi's in home caregiver.

Wake up at 5:30 in the morning - Nicole set the house alarm and didn't tell anyone, so the alarm went off when my dad let the dog out. Also realized that she wasn't sleeping in the den doing respite (listening for our Brandi's alarm) like she was supposed to, so I drag my pillow in and sleep for a few hours on the couch to listen (she sleeps with pulsox and CPAP machines, because she stops breathing at night sometimes.)

Wake up for real at nine to start Brandi's breakfast by feeding tube. Listen to Nicole waking up, talking on the phone. She lets Jeremiah run around while she gets ready for trade school, and he gets into everything. Try to direct Jeremiah's attention to productivity rather than distruction, pick up crying Joshua. Neither has eaten, or been dressed or changed.

Get Brandi fed, give her 8 different medications, change her diaper, get her dressed, get her in her wheelchair, start a breathing treatment.

Nicole leaves at 11, just as Joshua gets hungry. Jeremiah hasn't had breakfast. Listen to Joe complain about something while he watches me try to appease the three babies. Make Jeremiah breakfast, and the baby a bottle. Nod and "mhm" to Joe. Feed Joshua as I watch Jeremiah. Change Joshua's diaper. Put Jeremiah in time out for disobeying. Brush Brandi's teeth, wash her face, brush her hair. Fight with the two year old who's testing me some more. Baby's crying, so put him in the sling around my shoulder. Jeremiah won't throw away his trash. He does finally. Play cars with Jeremiah while holding the baby. Put Joshua down so I can fight with Jeremiah to change his diaper. Take Joshua and Jeremiah outside while listening to Brandi right inside the door.

Go inside, it's hot. Lay Joshua down. Lunchtime now, turn the TV on so Jeremiah will watch Calliou while I make lunch. While Jeremiah's lunch heats up, change Brandi's diaper, lay her down, start her lunch by feeding tube. Give Jeremiah his lunch. Hold Joshua because he's crying. Jeremiah's done with lunch, clean him up and the mess he's made, fight with him about cleaning up his toys, more time out. Nap time for Jeremiah. Change Jeremiah's diaper. Crys about TV off, back to bedroom, read a book, go to sleep.

Come back out. Finish Brandi's feed, change Joshua, feed Joshua. Matt emerges from his room for the first time that day. Lull Joshua back to sleep, Nicole gets home.

Marian arrives, so around 4, Nicole has her kids, and Marian takes care of Brandi.

Realize I haven't eaten all day, grab a bite of leftovers in the fridge.

Pick up car from car repair, shower, pick up pizza for family, eat pizza, watch big storms move through (tornado warning). Clean up the yard and tree branches. Watch movie with family (Alvin and the Chipmunks).

Crash.

I don't know how my mother does it.

I'm still excited to have kids someday, but that day will not be now.

A Memoir

My Journey Through Trypanophobia.

Well it’s a long story, and it starts when I was very little. All kids seem to have a dislike of needles, and many cry and scream and throw tantrums when forced to deal with them. But most people grow out of it and realize that you can dislike needles and still deal with them in a mature, responsible way. I was not one of them.

I remember as a 3 or 4 year old being held down to get vaccines. My memory shows the room to be large, gray, and foreboding – but that could be my mind filling in some assumptions. My mom put me in her lap, and held me in a death grip as I screamed, and I remember crying all the way home afterward.

Then when I was around ten, I have another memory, this time of getting blood drawn. I cried and cried, but was fairly responsible (the only time I remember acting this was until just now), and I let them draw my blood. However, I got a bruise almost the size of my arm, and that was the last time I willingly let anyone near me with a needle.

When I was twelve I accidentally got my hand slammed in a car door an needed stitches. Because the used a needle to numb it, I cried and screamed so hard that the four year old in the emergency room next to me came over to give me a stuffed animal (it was a penguin), because she felt so bad for me.

When I was tested for Rheumatoid arthritis at age 15, they needed a blood test, so my mom took me to Quest Diagnostics, because all they do is draw blood, so they’re good at it. I cried at home before I was dragged to the car, I cried in the car before I was dragged into the waiting room, and when I made it there, the receptionist decreed that I had to drink several cups of water before they dragged me any further because I was so pale. So I drank water and cried in the waiting room before they dragged me back to a chair. They called back their best phlebotomist - person who draws blood – because they could tell I was a challenge. Cornered in the chair, I sort of became violent, and wouldn’t let anyone near me. After my mother conferenced with the others, in my mind vicious vampires out to get me, they decided to take me to a little room to lay me down. Naively, feeling dizzy by this point, I agreed. Only once they laid me down, my mother grabbed both my arms and held them against the table while the phlebotomist got the blood he needed. This brought back memories of when I was three or four.

I’ve been to Africa twice and Peru once, and all three times almost didn’t go because of the shots that were required. (I had to be dragged in and nearly scarred both by parents by my hysterics and how much of a fight I put up.) After my mom tricked me into the doctor to get a vaccine I needed for college (meningitis maybe?), I wouldn’t look at her or speak to her for ten minutes. I love my mother deeply, and that is the only time in my life I’ve felt that deep sort of rage.

When I had by wisdom teeth removed when I was 16, I cried no because I was scared of the surgery, but because I was scared of the IV anesthetic. Because I was hysterical, they put me on high doses of nitrous oxide (laughing gas) to the point I was so relaxed I’m not sure I could even make a fist. But tears were still streaming down my face as I begged them not to put in the IV. Thankfully, it worked fast, and I was asked to count backward from 10. Ten, nine, eigh……..black. Then consciousness again. “I E IE OW?” My first memory upon waking up, and the first thing I tried to communicated was, “Is the IV out?”, but I don’t think it sounded like that because I couldn’t really feel my face. After several more attempts, someone understood my question, and responded “No, the IV’s not out yet.” Black. I think I passed out again, out of fear and despair.

Then, after I turned 18 and was preparing to move to Oxford, England for a semester, I realized something. If something happened to me, and I was conscious, I would refuse medical treatment if it required a needle. I would rather be hit over the head with a large blunt object than willingly allow someone to stick a needle in my skin. And I knew this was a problem. 1. Chances are at some point in my life I would need to deal with needles in my life. At high risk for Rheumatoid Arthritis with a confirmed Osteoarthritis diagnosis, those changes went up even more. So, I decided I wanted to overcome my phobia.

As a college student, I decided to try the University Counseling Center. They had been recommended to me my freshman year by my psychology professor, Dr. Beck, in whose class I came to realize not only could my fear be a legitimate phobia, but that people can get over them.

As Wikipedia says, “A phobia (from the Greek: φόβος, phóbos, "fear"), or morbid fear, is an irrational, intense, persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, or people. The main symptom of this disorder is the excessive, unreasonable desire to avoid the feared subject. When the fear is beyond one's control, or if the fear is interfering with daily life, then a diagnosis under one of the anxiety disorders can be made.”

I understood that my fear was irrational, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just make it go away. In general, I’m a pretty self-aware person, and have pretty good control over my emotions and reactions. But for some reason, my fear of needles wasn’t something I was able to control. My phobia had in some way started to define me, and I didn’t like that.

When put into a phobia inducing situation, my heart rate would race and plummet, I’d get lightheaded and dizzy, sometimes disoriented. I lost all logic, and reverted to fight or flight, sometimes both at the same time. Basically, I would have a panic attack.

I looked it up online, and first I found a name for my fear – Trypanophobia. Defined by Wikipedia, “Trypanophobia is the extreme and irrational fear of medical procedures involving injections or hypodermic needles.” Yep, that’s what I had.

So now we’ve come to counseling at ACU’s University Counseling Center. I started therapy in the fall of 2007. I had to take a break because I studied abroad in Oxford the spring of 2008, but I resumed therapy with a different therapist (because grad student therapists don’t stay all that long) when I got back in the fall of 2008. I continued therapy weekly through that fall, and in the spring of 2009 met monthly.

In therapy we went through systematic desensitization. Basically, I made a list of the levels of my fear – thinking about needles, being in the room with a needle, watching injections on TV, watching them in real like, having an injection, having blood drawn, ect. – and then, step by step we moved up the list. My list was more detailed than that, because the more detailed the better, but not necessary to get the point across. Before we started, I learned some very, very helpful relaxation techniques that I practiced quite a bit, and little by little, I started to train my body and my brain to have a relaxed response to the situations, instead of a phobic one.

We also dug deeper to discover the root of the phobia, and learned that for me, part of it was a control issue, and that to help that, when I was in situation at a doctor’s office, I needed to communicate to them what I needed them to do to help me through this. For me, that was asking for a few moments if I needed to relax, and having them walk me through all of the materials and steps they would use beforehand (this is the alcohol swab, here’s the needle, this is what I’m going to do).

So fast forward, a year’s worth of therapy later, I’ve reached the end. All that’s left to do is prove I’ve overcome my fear. I went in to the doctor’s to get blood drawn, and an IV treatment to help with the arthritis. I told them what I needed, focused on relaxing, and my hours and hours and hours of therapy were successful. I had a few tears roll down my face from stress, but I didn’t fight, I wasn’t mad, just a little bit stressed. It went so well, and it really wasn’t so bad. (Tearing off the tape that held the IV in place hurt much more than the needle, and I’m not scared of tape.)

The next day I went to the dentist. I went by myself because it was just a routine cleaning. However, they found a cavity. I’ve had a minor cavity before, but I convinced them to fill it using only topical numbing, and not the needle. This time though, it was between my teeth, and the dentist said he had to use the needle. I decided not to call my mom to have her come hold my hand, because I was convinced that I was recovered from this fear, and I could handle it like a responsible mature person. And I did. It was fine. And I no longer have a phobia of needles.

Granted, I’m not a huge fan of needles, and I don’t think I ever will be, but that’s okay, because now I can handle them. My first encouragement to someone dealing with a phobia is that they’re real, and just because you can’t deal with it does not mean you’re a wimp. People in my family thought I was just being a baby about it. I wasn’t – there really was some irrational fear that overtook all my rational thought when I was put into situations with needles. But secondly, moving past them is possible.

I never, ever would have imagined allowing people to stick me with needles, for any reason, without attempting first to put them into the hospital. I never could have imagined before therapy that I could deal with needles without sheer terror and an absolute panic attack. But I can. And I have. And I will continue to maintain my recovery, understanding that just as ground can be gained, it can be lost, and I refuse to go back to the way I lived life in fear of needles before.

My Past Few Days

It's been an eventful few days. My junior year in college is over, now I'm a senior. In the last week I moved home, went back to Abilene, and then came back home. I also successfully overcame my phobia of needles with getting blood drawn and an IV treatment on Friday (my mom was with me to hold my hand, but I did so well). The IV room at the doctors office has big windows that overlook a nice little pond and woody area, and there was a bird there that kept trying to get in and in the process kept flying into the windows. Saturday I went to the dentist, and had a cavity. Because it was on the side of my tooth, they said there's no way they could do it without a shot. So, by myself, I dealt with needles again. And success again! So exciting.

Today, I slept until late afternoon, and then went to the farewell church service for my priest, Fr. Rob. It was a wonderful service: we sang the psalms, did evening prayer, Nate (my old youth minister) preached a wonderful sermon on obedience (Love doesn't let alone.), and I got to reunite with high school friends that I hadn't talked to in a long time. We talked about the raffle (waffle waffle waffle), being God's favorite because I always won the raffle, how much DDYC changed becuase of my innecent voting mistake, our knome - Rabbi Finklestein, argued the age old argument of whether the corner spot is mine or Andrew's (it's mine), and I discovered that Andrew can hold his own in a conversation about communication theory and rhetoric. Pleasant surprise.

But it's been an eventful few days. Wow. Let's see how this summer goes.

To Be Noteworthy

So, I set a lot of goals for myself. Thus far I've not been very good at keeping them.

I need to eat breakfast every day, take my pills, workout, and have quiet time.

These are all good things, and I'm still working at being consistent at all of them.

And I will continue to work to keep them.

Additionally, I've decided that I want to do at least one noteworthy thing every day.

Perhaps that means doing something adventurous and out of my comfort zone, maybe it's a random act of kindness, or it could be something accidentally really cool.

But noteworthy.

And I want to keep a journal of it, so on days when I feel like I don't accomplish everything, I can look back through this journal, and feel like just maybe I make a difference, even on a small scale.

I want to really live my life, not just be alive.

Part of that is my first list of goals which help me to be a healthy and whole person.

The second helps me step out of structure, and into the messy, random, crazy world around me.

That's my challenge to myself. So there.

Now I'm off to buy a journal...

(P.S. I still can't comment on other people's blogs. I don't know why.)

End to the Silence.

Well, I've been mad at blogger. Mostly because it doesn't like me, and for some reason, won't let me comment on anyone else's page. Lame.

However, I've decided to give up on my vow of silence against blogger, mostly because blogger didn't care.

So here I am. Early in the morning. I've had a Dr. Pepper, and because of giving up caffeine, I'll be up all night. Woo!

So I'll be spending my evening with I.A. Richards, Richard Weaver, and Kenneth Burke. (Modern Rhetoricians). AKA - writing a paper.

But here's what I'm thinking:
There are a lot of things I need to do. Goals I've set for myself, that I'm not achieving.

My life is only going to get busier from here on out, so maybe blogging will help to keep me accountable. Perhaps.

I'll try at least.

Self

Self.

In seems so many times that I chase myself, searching for the essence of who I am. Trying to cement my being, box it in, make it definite.

I try to hard
To discover who I am,
Only to find
I've changed again.

I think I've found that my self is fluid.
It morphs and remolds itself constantly.

Perhaps my self is like a kalaidescope. Movements and influences outside its control change the way it looks, while not changing its being. Different situations bring out different colors and patterns, yet the different images come from the same kalaidescope.

Perhaps it is better to focus more on being aware of my self, changes and all. If I can rest in where I am, I can better understand how to get where I want to be. At least I think. Certainly I hope.

And then there's a problem. With this fluid self that is complex and changing, how do you communicate that self to others? Surely there is a core, and essence or our being. But can to convey that to another person by the standard NAME/MAJOR/CLASSIFICATION introduction? Can you convey that by your interests, your family or friends, your economic status, gender, race, or favorite color? Can you convey your essence by your appearance, or even your hopes and dreams? What is it that makes us...us?

Perception: even if or when I think I've got my self figured out, I cannot control how others perceive me. Their perceptions and subsequent judgments or stereotypes can play a role in further shaping who I think I am.

2 Corinthians 3:18 says that we are "being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.".

Being transformed. A fluid process of changing self. Allowing our selves to be molded by God.

As Romans 12:2 says, "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."

As for discerning his will, one of my favorite verses: "(for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true)" -Ephesians 5:9

Being transformed.

We are always changing. Hopefully, we are changing for the better, being transformed into people who walk deeply with God, allowing Him to continually mold us, and shape us.

Because it's in God that we find our real selves. Only in Him can we really be fulfilled. Only in Him will we discover who we were created to be.

I am being transformed.