A Faith Based Essay?

I was asked tonight, if I were to write an essay about my faith, what would it say? (One of the biggest supports for homeless in this city is a faith-based mission, and asked for a letter of your faith with your application, so I haven’t applied at all).

So, I thought about it.

I didn’t grow up in the church, and accepted all the atheism that is rampant in our society for a long time.  When things happened that there is no explanation for beyond that it is a miracle, I was willing to admit there was a higher power, but I have always been reluctant to name it.  My theory was that who was I to claim one higher being as the higher being against all other believes.  But, I remain feeling lost in life, like I am missing something important.  I find myself drawn to Aboriginal beliefs about Creation more than I do about Jesus saving the world 2000 plus years ago.  Nature has always calmed my soul.  Nature is far more related to Creation than it is God, in my world.  I like that Creation asks you to give yourself up to the world and you will learn.  From my understanding, Christianity requires you to read a book and pray.  The answers do not come from with inside of you, but from God.  Maybe Creation works closer to my belief that I have to fix myself on my own.  Maybe, I have no idea.

There are events in my life that have proved to me that a higher power exists. 

The day Erin and I went off the highway at a pretty decent speed.  How we felt the car start to flip, and how it calmly settled down without harming either of us.  We will both tell you that it felt like the car was placed gently down.  Sure, the snow bank on the side of the car was high, but we were both sure we were going to flip.  I believe someone was watching us, and it wasn’t our time to die, or to be hurt.

Agogo was limp in my arms.  He had been practically comatose all day.  His fever was high.  We were on the second round of malaria meds.  He wasn’t responding.  His eyes didn’t recognize anything.  He hadn’t eaten in two days.  I know I know nothing about medicine, or malaria but I could feel him slipping away in my arms.  I went home and prayed with everything I had.  Agogo had to get better. I couldn’t lose him with all the other heartbreak I was currently going through.  I sobbed and prayed until I fell asleep in exhaustion.  The next morning at bath time, Agogo had some life in him.  By the end of the day, he was our Agogo again.

On a less extreme note, my heart was broken and I could barely function.  I was dejected and wanted to cry my life away. I went to the orphanage because I was expected, but those faces broke my heart again.  My boy, a mischievous boy always into trouble, took my hand and we spent a quiet morning together.  He showed me more love in that morning that I have ever felt in my life.  Although it would take many more months for me to heal, he reminded me of all the good in my life and how much he loved me anyways.

A part of me always wanted to explain these things away as coincidence.  Agogo’s med’s started working.  Desmond just saw how sad I was and wanted to help in the only way he knew how.  Or, God was working in my life when I needed him the most.

My major life choices have always been easy; they always felt like it was the only choice for me.  God has a plan for everyone.  I always knew where I was supposed to go and where I was supposed to be.  I went away on a mental breakdown, and knew that Africa was the place for me.  Ghana helped me grow in so many ways and set me on another journey.  In China, when I desperately needed help, Erin started a Worship night.  At first I went out of curiosity, but it became one night a week where I felt like I fit in.  I liked the way Erin could decipher the Bible and make it so real.  I liked that it was the one time I felt like I could be vulnerable and share my fears and struggles.  I liked that it was one night a week I felt like I could fit in with the others.  This worship time was one of the things I missed most about China.  I have not yet found a fit like that back in Canada.  Erin found a church for me in Prince George, and I liked it, but it was hard to get to and I didn’t go a lot.  I enjoyed the church, but never met anyone in it.  So when I moved to Kamloops (another easy decision for me), I was excited to find Summit Drive.  This church has a large young adult population, and several of my classmates also attend.  I still struggle with attending services though.  Sometimes I find the small talk hard.  But, I am still working on it.

Sometimes I wonder if finding faith would benefit me.  I feel at a standstill in my healing journey.  I don’t feel like dealing with some of the stuff (I know I need to, but I feel stuck in it – I don’t know – I guess I feel  counseled out right now).  A woman spoke tonight at Young Adults.  She told her story – one of abuse and neglect.  Her story in a lot of ways was me (not the abuse and neglect but what arose from it).  She spoke of depression, anxiety, self-hatred, no confidence, and an inability to trust anyone, including God.  Does that sound like anyone we know?  She spoke of how God wouldn’t let her kill herself although she tried three times.  She spoke about learning to trust God and how now when the negative thoughts come in, she can tell them where to go.  I wonder if it is possible to heal without faith in the higher beings.  I want to be able to do that.

Maybe I am stuck in my own beliefs.  I am a little bit of an oddball after all!  I like taking my beliefs from various religions and various lifestyles.  But, I don’t really know enough about any of them to know what I want or what I believe.  I grew up with Christian ideals even if I didn’t grow up with Christianity.  However, I kind of think that what is called Christian values should often be human values – love thy neighbor, don’t steal, don’t cheat, help those in need etc.

How does one even become a Christian?

Guess I probably shouldn’t apply at the mission; this isn’t a faith essay but a questioning essay!  Maybe if I have time this summer, I will try to talk to Pastor Dave more often and see if there are more answers to these questions!

Defeated.

I am so defeated right now.  When I had my practicum interview in November, I was so excited for this practicum! It fit with FASD and with social work, and I was going to work everywhere within the organization.  When I started in January, I became frustrated.  It was week two, and I wasn’t doing anything.  I thought that the organization would have stuff for me to do, to bring me into their work with them.  I was told not to talk to the clients until they were used to me.  By midterm, I was in trouble for not talking to them.

The practicum was more ECE than I would have liked, but I thought I was trying to make the most of it.  I don’t know a lot about early childhood development – we take a course on lifespan development, it doesn’t spend long enough on early childhood to make me feel I know enough to talk to parents about how their child is developing.  I chatted with the parents at our groups, but we all knew that I didn’t have experience in parenting or know enough about development – they couldn’t ask me questions about their child.  I disliked group – it was loud and chaotic and not something I enjoyed.  But I was always there, offering to help, or playing with children whose parents were distracted.  Groups exhausted me.  Was there learning I missed in these situations? Maybe, but I am still missing it.  I started doing research on conditions that some of the children had, so that at least I understood that.  But, because it is sometimes a sensitive topic for parents, I didn’t feel like I should sit in on conversations about it.

Ok, I admit that I feel awkward joining in the middle of a relationship.  All clients I saw had established relationships with someone in our agency, and then they filled me in.  I always felt awkward.  But on the one chance I had outside groups to see someone for a second time, I felt more comfortable saying something because I had learned a little about them by then.  If I don’t have the information to take over the conversation, how can I insert myself in that first meeting?  And the client I did see twice, was a cultural visit, so I wasn’t even sure what my role would be as a white person in an Aboriginal home, with our culture worker.  I don’t feel like I ever understood my role.  I was told I would take the lead on a new family.  I talked in the first meeting, but was overrun in the next meeting (with a different member of the family).  Visits happened when I was not on site.  How can I participate if I am excluded?

I came to dread going to practicum because it became a rare day that anyone would include me.  I was promised to go out with one of the social workers, but when I asked the next day – nope she was taking the other social work student.  The day before, she had told me she could take as many students as she wanted.  I didn’t push it (again, maybe I should have, but it’s not who I am).  She said I could sit in on a meeting she had over lunch, I agreed.  Three weeks in a row, the clients did not show up.  I would take anything anyone gave to me.  I typed notes for social workers.   I gladly documented anything that my supervisor and I did.  I added up numbers for someone for their stats.  I did orders.  Anything that anyone could think of to keep me busy, I was game.  I was told today that I wasn’t motivated.  This came as a shock to me.  I was also told that I turned down work with a social worker on the other side (when!?) and that it surprised everyone.  I wanted to work on the other side, I felt like every time I tried, I was turned down.  People would tell me I could come with them, and next thing I know, they have left and I was still there.

My instructor says that I was negative and had given up on my practicum because it was young children.  I didn’t think that was what I ever said.  I said that it was a lot of child minding and that I struggled with it because I don’t know enough about early childhood development to know what to talk to the parents about.  I also said that the only time we had clients on site was during groups, which for most of the time, was twice a week for 2 hours.  That is not enough contact time to learn anything!  And, they always came in for group – which meant playing with their children.

I came home every day frustrated that I wasn’t doing anything.  I would start most mornings asking what I can do today.  Most days, no one even responded to me.

As a new to social work person, I guess I needed more guidance than I got.  This is my first practicum. I thought there would be training.  I hoped to be eased in, but expected to get thrown in.  I see the value of the children (children are our future after all), I just felt ill equipped to deal with it.

I just don’t know how I could have made it better with keeping with who I am.  I have grown a lot in the last year, and could have pushed my boundaries but I needed guidance.

So today, I feel like a shitty social worker.  But the thing is, I “just needed more guidance” for teaching too.  Maybe I am just not cut out for this…

But, I ran Go Girls just fine.  My Brownie Unit had a lot of hiccups, but I wasn’t defeated by it.  I know I can do this stuff – so why is it so hard in the job?  I know I am a very capable employee in most of my jobs.  I just don’t know what to do.

As shitty as it would be, maybe a failing practicum would be good – maybe I could have a better 3^rd year practicum if I had to do it again.

Things on my mind

I have a lot on my mind these days.

The first is that I feel like a job opportunity is fucking me around.  I am heading for a third interview tomorrow – sounds great but it is also with a third manager.  The first manager had my references checked but didn’t hire me.  The second manager just chatted with me about who I am and said I would know tomorrow if she hires me.  Then today, I get a call from the HR lady – yet another manager wants to meet me.  I know interview practice is a good thing, but this is ridiculous.  I have decided I am not meeting another manager after tomorrow.  I don’t need a job that fucks me around before hiring!  I don’t care how desperately I need a job, or how little related experience I have.  Bring them all in, and I will dazzle them all at once!

I also feel like my practicum is trying to find reasons to fail me.  Thankfully, they don’t have the right to fail me, and I am not going to fail it (the instructor who has the right has made that clear as I complained all semester).  As you know, I have struggled with this practicum from the beginning.  I have tried to do what I need to do, tried to make it the best of it.  I have researched issues some of our children have.  I have begged to go out with social workers.  I am quick to jump on anything they offer me.  However, the week before my midterm evaluation, I was told that I wasn’t meeting expectations and had “three days to fix it”.  I had been told not to talk to the clients, and then got in trouble for not talking to the clients.  But, I don’t know about childhood development and am not in a field that is training me to know.  I feel like we are doing it again.  Last week, my field instructor went on a home visit without me.  She said that it was more a social call and I wouldn’t enjoy it.  Whatever.  I figured she was using it as an excuse to go home early anyways.  Come Tuesday though, she has changed her mind.  I need to see this client, because she is a social work client, just not one that we currently deal with – and we have resumed a friendlier role.  I get taken along.  I am given no information about the client we are about to meet.  I am told that I need to ask her lots of questions.  We get there, and I am introduced to the client as a social work student.  She says “I am going to scare you today” and laughs.  Great.  She shared a lot of stuff, a lot of stuff which is shocking.  She talked for about 30 minutes then both her and my person turn to me and say “questions?”.  I said I didn’t have any questions at this time.  They told me I had to.  I did get out of the awkward situation but I am pretty sure because we said it was time to go.  As we were leaving, my person told me and the client that she would drop me off another time and leave me there so we had to chat.  She asked me in the car why I had nothing to say (hinting at I need to take responsibility for my learning).  I told her that I felt like asking questions in this situation seemed rude.  I only had curiosity questions, and they are not appropriate for a social worker to ask.  I get told that I need to learn how to ask difficult questions at some point, may as well do it in a safe environment where the client wants to share her story with anyone that asks.  I said that in our classes we are told to ask expanding questions but not to pry.  This client does not currently need a social worker in her life.  Two days later, I don’t know what I could have asked without being noisy.  I have talked it over with classmates and we all agree that there was nothing I could ask that was for the clients’ interests.  Everything I could ask was for my own benefit at the expense of the client.  So anyways, my final evaluation in next week and I see it saying something like “doesn’t interact with clients”. But during our conversation about why I had nothing to say, I was also told that I need to build relationship with clients.  I wanted to yell, yes, build relationship, not ask questions for me after 30 minutes!!  I see it biting me in the ass, but I remain convinced I made the right ethical decision.  Just so frustrating and I am so done with it.

And the final thing on my mind this week… it’s a big one and I am not totally sure how to even write about it.

A friend and I were talking the other night.  We talked about my relationship history.  We were talking about my past, and my sexual life.  We talked about cancer and how endometritisis is not related.  We talked about the men I have dated.  We talked about me calling rape on my boyfriends because I just wasn’t willing. I talked for a long time.  I explained a lot of things.  When I stopped talking, she asked (in a totally gentle and real way) if I had been abused as I exhibit trauma signs.

I had panic attacks during sex with my last boyfriend.  Curled into a ball, crying hysterically, afraid to be touched.   I told myself this was a first time and a fluke thing.  Then it happened again.  We decided I was afraid to orgasm.  He wanted to keep trying (not those nights obviously).  He thought if we worked on my tolerance it might help.  Maybe with a normal girl.

As I talked about my past, and these panic attacks, a thought came to me.  My first boyfriend, ten years ago.  I cried when we had sex, and I was madly in love with him.  I wanted a future with him.  I wanted babies with him.  He was nothing but gentle with me and stopped when I cried.  But, he didn’t understand why I was crying.  Neither did I.

Another thought came to me.  I have always been afraid of men.  I was uncomfortable around my friends’ dads.  It didn’t matter how long I had known the man for, or how nice he was to me, I was afraid of them.  This I always blamed on not having grown up with a man around.  I just didn’t know how to have a dad.  I have a couple of uncles that I feel uncomfortable around to this day.  I always told myself that they were weird men.

Now, I might be projecting my learning onto myself, and that is something I am aware of as well.  But talking with a classmate, who is learning the same trauma triggers as me; it became clear to both of us that something has caused this in my life.  People do not grow up terrified of men.  Panic attacks come from somewhere.

Now the question is, do I need to know the trauma that caused these issues in me, or can I heal without the knowledge?  I am on a healing journey, and I know the sex thing is still heavy on my mind.  I know I am healing some of the issues behind it.  But if there is a deeper issue, do I need to know? Do I even want to know?  If I am on this journey now and now is a good time for it,

It would explain the panic attacks. It would explain the dissociative states I go into while having sex.  I think of anything but what is happening.  I know that this could be a side effect of my anti-depressants.

So, I talked to my counselor about this today.  She said that it could be anything I suggested – that I didn’t have a man in the house and I didn’t have that kind of experience growing up, so having males around confused me.  But, she also said that maybe, there was something else.  She said that maybe somewhere along the line, a man made me feel uncomfortable in something he did or said or a way he looked at me.  She said it didn’t have to be “abuse” to be trauma.

When I think about the four men that bother me off the top of my head, I can’t think of specific examples, but I can see them doing something that would bother me.  One has always been rough, and has scared me in how he talks to me, and shakes my hand.  One of the men compared his daughter and me in sexual ways – but I didn’t really see that until we were well into our teens.  One of these men I do not know at all and never had a desire to – he just wasn’t ever around.  And the final man I can think of, I think he just had a different lifestyle than me.  I can picture his son doing things that were not okay in my house, but every house is different.  What is okay to me might be weird to them.  So I can sort of see how all of these men might have caused some sort of reaction in me.  And that’s okay.  If any of those men made me feel uncomfortable as a child, it is something they need to deal with, not something I need to carry for them.  So, I am going to try that when a man makes me feel uncomfortable, to think about where it came from.  Is it his tone? Is it his body language? Is he physically doing something?  Why do I feel uncomfortable? And if it is something he is doing, I can walk away, or whatever.  I don’t have to deal with his issues.

I don’t think I was ever touched or abused or anything.  But, it is interesting to see how that could have happened.  Whatever did happen, happened.  I want to heal from my previous self-inflicted trauma.  And knowing things makes things better.  Knowing things makes them less scary even when they are terrifying!