The Good Life kept Good

The Bank Holiday feels well deserved. It's been a while since Easter, and the weather seems to have barely changed since the middle of winter. It's cold and gloomy, and the un-Spring like conditions have been remarked upon in my consulting room countless times in recent weeks. The rain feels relentless and drizzle terribly dreary. I am beginning to sound terribly British, aren't I?

Rain didn't stop play earlier in the week, and I managed another medium length bicycle ride in Richmond Park. 40k or so, in slightly below average conditions. I like to think I go faster when my tyres are wet. Unfortunately, our company was distinctly enthusiastic, and there were some smart machines out there. A different crowd to the Sunday brunch bunch. These guys were serious. I saw their teeth.

Some of us don't seem to have an innate 'off' button. I know I tend to fidget. I'm restless, and am happiest when I'm busy, ticking things off a list. I'm a great 'do-er'. I get things done and it pleases me. But I have had to learn and then refine the skill of slowing down, and switching off. I need my energy and recognise its finitude. There are, of course, things I can do to replenish the reserves short-term, but there comes a time when I need to rest. I'm thankful for the reminders I get from my supervisor, a therapist with over a quarter of a century's experience, who asks me like a mantra "...and when's your next break?" I need to know the answer. It's important. I don't want to burn out.

Compassion fatigue is a well documented tragedy amongst our profession. I practice what I preach when it comes to self care, and seek to model my remedies. There is nothing like a live advertisement. I'm far from perfect, but life's taught me some valuable lessons including self preservation. In order to have anything worthwhile to offer those I work with, I have a responsibility to prioritise self care.

"The mark of a successful (wo)man is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it."

Unknown

"No one can get inner peace by pouncing on it."

Harry Emerson Fosdick

Comments

Table. Apple. Penny.

Whilst there were several places I might have been that morning, I wouldn't have been anywhere else. The practitioner from the Memory Service arrived promptly. I liked her instantly. Mum was nervous. I think I was a little, too. It's been a difficult year. "It's Friday, it's the fourteenth of December and I'm at home..." No problems there. CAMCOG, or the Cambridge Cognitive Examination is a thorough assessment tool used to assess the extent of extent of dementia, and to assess the level of cognitive impairment. The standardised measure assesses orientation, language, memory, praxis, attention, abstract thinking, perception and calculation. "Table. Apple. Penny." Three everyday items that were introduced at one point, and then referred to again later on. Again, Mum was able to recall each. I am reminded that the...

Glass half full? Glass half empty? Or perhaps the glass is broken

I am, constitutionally, a glass half empty gal. I will always first acknowledge what I don't have, what I have lost, and what it is that I am seeking. I tend to overlook my strengths, concentrating only on those bits of me that are underdeveloped or weak. I refer to myself as a realist, but in doing so compliment myself and insult those who genuinely are simply realistic. My modus operandi is to identify what's not working and acknowledge this before seeing more clearly what functions perfectly well. This has its place: I edit others' written work pretty well. My fastidious attention to detail serves me, and the author. Accuracy counts, for me and I have an excellent memory. I can remember a great many of my sessions with clients verbatim. Even this asset is something I can, and do, diminish the true value of, by concentrating on 'I should have said...' or 'why didn't.... occur to me during the session?' Earlier this we...

Pausing in the sunshine

And so, chemo is over. My best friend's diary has been chocker... Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself. Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage. The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman. Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend. She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace. Our bodies are fragile things. Our minds are frailer still. In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt. From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn. The ...

The Reward is the Journey

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