Still Something

She's going to be 19 next week. She plans to be back in university next year. She was out riding her horse when it spooked and bucked, giving her whiplash. She was thrown to the ground, layed there unable to move for over an hour. Her horse returned to the farm without her, and dad came out to find her. She can hardly see, her ataxia makes her movements jerky and hard to control - but she still texts her friends all day long on her cell phone (with a magnifying glass held up to her face). Her voice is flat and her sense of humour is sarcastic. She doesn't know why she just can't go home, she's fine you know, don't I see there's nothing wrong with her? Same as before the accident she says. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

He's only 28, soon going to be 29. He's married, they have a one-year old child. He's been here almost a month. He just. stopped. breathing. one night and his wife found him, EMTs came and rushed him to the hospital. Some type of cardiac arrest. Only activity seen was in the brain stem (our base base base brain). He was supposed to die, but he has lived, and he continues to fight. He's pretty much blind, and he can't stand or walk. He's getting stronger, his eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shakes and jolts when he laughs after telling me a bad joke. He'll never be what he was, but he's still something.

She just turned 20. She's been here nearly a year. Pictures of her 'before' are all over her wall. With her friends. Her brother. Her parents. Her graduation class. Happy, lovely, excited, long blonde hair, fully alive. She'll probably never walk, and she hates her chair. She's angry. She gives me the finger about a hundred times a month, and then tries to laugh. She can get out a few words now. The first word I heard her say was 'hi', the second was 'motherfucker'. We're friendly. She was riding in the car driven by her ex-boyfriend (ex for a good reason), home for summer after her first year away at univesity. She was going to be a teacher. He had been drinking, they were arguing. She was more confident after being away at university. She didn't want to get back together, told him she hated him for being so mean to her, and that she would never take him back. He missed a turn and drove the car off a cliff. He walked away. She doesn't remember anything that happened up to a month before the accident. She wonders why he doesn't visit. She loves him. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

She's 24. She's been here for 8 days, but she swears adamantly that it's been at least 4 months, and that she's going home next week. She smiles and laughs but her eyes and her voice are just flat, like a robot. She was in the car on a family vacation, summer off from nursing school. The car flipped. Everyone else was ok, enough. Her arm is in a sling, and her mind is like a mixed-up puzzle, the pieces put together in a way that doesn't make sense. She tries to make order out of it. She thinks she has made order out of it - what do I know, maybe she has. She talks and walks, and if you didn't know you'd never guess. Unless you actually listened. She'd never guess. She hasn't yet. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

Some days it is harder to work here than others. Coming in is a daily reminder about how lucky I am in life, and how quickly your luck can run out - no matter what kind of person you are in life. What keeps me coming back is knowing that where there was once no sparkle and shine, where there were no words, where there was no clarity, there's still something that can be coaxed out into the light. And while it might not make a person what they were, they're still something.

When I Grow Up...

When I grow up I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies
When I grow up I wanna see the world ,Drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies
When I grow up Be on TV, People know me, Be on magazines
When I grow up Fresh and clean , #1 chick when I step out on the scene

This song is stuck in my head, I love it (bad, I know!). What about me and when I grow up? God knows I don't feel the need to be on TV or on the cover of a magazine (I am a junior high modelling school dropout!). I'm in such dithers about a career path though. In the generation of my parents, you chose a job out of high school (or got one after college if you were lucky enough to go) and kinda stuck it out, loyal to your job and employer through 'til retirement. Me, I'm not built that way. I want my job to be challenging, to make me think, to learn new things, to help me grow and change. I have had some great jobs, and I have worked with some incredible people, but as of yet there is still nothing that feels quite right. It feels almost as though I am going through jobs figuring out exactly what I *don't* want to do for a living!

When I decided to go to university I knew I would go into a psychology program. I graduated high school knowing I wanted to be a psychologist. After a few volunteer positions that allowed me to do some counselling, I left knowing that I definitely didn't want to counsel adults (too dead end and draining for me), but I was still really interested in doing counseling of some kind with kids. After getting 1/2way through my master's in school psychology I continue on knowing that I don't want to be a school psychologist (too limiting in effect and opportunity). I am D E E P L Y    I N T RI G U E D with thoughts of doing trauma counselling with children, and am currently investigating how best to get into that kind of field. How on earth though will I know if that is going to be what I'm looking for?

The perfect career will:

• be something that lets me help kids and their families
• allow me to work a normal amount of hours in a week
• pay well enough to live comfortably and be active and independent
• afford me the time (flexibility) and money to travel
• allow me to participate in workshops through the year that were interesting, inspiring, and relevant
• give me opportunities to travel for work
• always present a 'next big thing' to learn and get good at

Keepin' my eyes peeled, in case the time comes when I decide it's time to grow up.

Love and Satisfaction

In my flurry of inactivity last night I turned on the television and watched an episode of House. I was scribbling away in my journal at the time, winding down for bed while S was already off to work a night shift. In my journal I was continuing my attempts to unravel the roots of my educational crisis. In the middle of the episode, the conversation between a terminally ill patient and his young female doctor went something like this:

Patient: Do you like your job?
Doctor: Yes, I do. I love my job.
Patient: Really? You seem more of an, "I find it extremely satisfying," kind of person.
Doctor: It is satisfying, very satisfying.
Patient: Yes, but love is "love". Satisfying is "social validation - love can wait."

Since I was already sunken into thoughts of school, this conversation sidled in through the open door. Am I in school because I think I'm going to love the job? Or am I in school because I think the job at the end of it will be extremely satisfying?

One of the things I really work on changing about myself is my own craving for that social validation. If you asked me, I would tell you that I don't care what other people think, but in my truest of hearts, it's a lie. I like that when I tell people "I'm in the middle of grad school", I get oohs, and ahhs, and 'wow, that must be really hard's from people I talk to, especially when they find out that I'm working full time at the same time. The goal itself seems more worth the work because other people recognize it to be important. I like that it makes my mom proud to tell people what I'm up to, and that she takes pride in my reachings. Ugh, I am still that little girl who needs the pat on the head and the, "good job, honey!" from her mommy, or the star on the board from the teacher!

With that thought newly in my head, that my real reason for finally going to grad school could be to get the social validation that goes with it, I wanted to throw my laptop out into the snowbank and run off to Mexico to become a starfish. I am an educated, confident, independent woman. Surely I wouldn't have made this big of a decision, this big of a committment of time and money, in order to get approval, to get social validation... would I?

As we grow and change, our goals and values also change. I no longer want to be a ballet dancer, a marine biologist, a fireman, a doctor, a vet, or a lawyer. But psychologist, now that one has hung on. All of my image makers, the people who you listen to growing up when they tell you how they see you in the future, saw me as a counselor, a helper, a psychologist. I have been on the road to my master's, with all of its' twists and turns, since high school. I'm sure my yearbook says something about my becoming a psychologist. It's what I've "always" wanted to do. My 14-year old self embraced that idea with her whole heart, perhaps in a way that I haven't done since.

So here I am: tank full of gas, driving down that road, my destination finally beginning to arise on the horizon. That nagging feeling that I should look up from the road, look around, is finally sinking into my thoughts. My biggest suspicion is that if I check out my reflection in the rearview mirror, my 14 year old self is still driving the car, looking for that feeling of satisfaction, as yet unaware of the magic in the possiblities of love.