A new book

I was minding my own business and surfing along on the internet when I found this book advertised:  Music Therapy with Adults with Learning Disabilities.  It’s edited by Tessa Watson.  Learning disabilities, for those of us who live in the United States, is the term used in Great Britain for people who have intellectual and developmental disabilities.  

Well, aside from the fact that I have a book problem in general, I had to buy it, for crying out loud.  I mean, it’s been my dream to write about this very topic for ages.  So instead I just blog.  Hm.  Anyway, I just got it in the mail, so I can’t tell you how brilliant it is yet, but I can only assume that, since it comes from Europe there will be a psychodynamic bent (at least I hope there will be).  

We shall see...

Again with the guilt already

I was very tired today, because we had our annual music festival (which I’m in charge of) yesterday at our facility.  We pattern it (sort of) after the big Musikfest in Bethlehem, PA, and we get different bands to come in and perform at various places within our campus.  We end the evening with fireworks.  It’s a lot of fun, but it’s also a lot of work to put it together.  Happily, I work with a lot of very organized people (my boss chief among them), and it almost always seems to manage to come off without too many crises.  I’d have to say that this year’s edition was particularly problem-free.  

To say the least, I was pretty knocked out today, so I was quite mellow while I did my sessions (okay, maybe “practically comatose” would be more accurate).    It was another of those days when I mostly wanted to just sit for the day and not be doing anything responsible (or mobile...  Damn, my feet are tired!).  I had, however, told my clients I’d be there, and I didn’t feel right not going. 

Honestly, I wonder if other music (or regular) therapists struggle with this dilemma of “should I take better care of myself or of my clients?”  I mean, is it just me?  I knew I’d feel better if I got started (and I did), but I was dragging around there for the first hour or so.   

As it turned out, persons number one and two both wanted to come to their sessions, but as soon as we started to look at some of their issues they both began nodding off (behold the power of emotional shutdown when faced with stuff we’re not ready to look at or hear yet).  Person number three was on a trip, and person number four came out the door with me, paused on a bench, and he decided he was heading back home.  Okay then.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again (heck, I’ve said it in this very blog):  if I’m the only person my client gets to say “no” to in a day, then I’ve probably done something important that day. 

Since person number three was out, I checked in with someone who missed his session yesterday because he was on a trip.  He didn’t budge.  Well, he didn’t budge until after I gave up and took another person who was itching to get out of the cottage for a walk.   Then, of course, I had to agonize over whether that was going to be a problem for the person who decided not to come with me (seeing me taking someone else instead, that is).  And I had to worry (yes, I had to worry) that the person who wanted to get out with me was getting the wrong message and I was somehow confusing boundaries.

See, now this is why I should design clothes for short fat women, so we can rule the world (as we were meant to).  I can’t imagine that doing that would require this perpetual level of uncertainty and “am I destroying someone’s life or just being a person here” sort of questions.   *sigh*

"Don't forget me when you go" Part Two

I gave one of the men I work with a seven-minute warning (we really struggle with endings and transitions) before we had to end today (knowing it would probably be more like a fifteen minute process).  

He was drawing, and he suddenly decided he needed to get in to my guitar case (which necessitated practically climbing over me).  He started to hit at my arms when I asked him to stop trying to rummage (over me) through my case.  I reminded him that it hurts when he hits me and that he should tell me what he wanted rather than hitting me and assuming I was saying “no” when I didn’t even know what it was he wanted.  

He finally removed himself from my personal space and said “pen”.  Mind you, I’d given him three pens when we started our session (one of which was apparently drying up, because he handed the offensive item back to me, dumping it on the table in front of me).  I explained that we would be leaving soon (denial?  what denial?), “so please try to live with the pens you have.”  

I was all set to be annoyed because here we were having this drama and we were almost done.  Ding!   “I don’t want to have to end, Roia.  This is hard for me.”  

So began our (as predicted) fifteen-minute ending.  Honestly, I’m not sure how it comes across to readers, but my heart is truly touched by the fact that this young man feels so strongly about being in music therapy.  

It was literally hard for him to let me go today, and I say this because he always walks over to the door to “say” goodbye to me (he doesn’t usually actually say “goodbye”), and he hovers around (sort of the same way our parents hover around when we leave their house as adults, waiting until we’re truly gone).  

Today he took my hand (which I offered, because he still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of my being his music therapist and the fact that we say “goodbye” differently from the way he says “goodbye” to mom and dad).  He took my hand, looked away and back and then away and back, and he just held on for a while.   

 

[You can listen to the song if you click on the title and go to the original posting.]