Posts Tagged ‘logistics’

Things Falling

March 22, 2017

Into place.

I am not nearly as anxious this Tuesday as I was last Tuesday.

Last Tuesday, which seems so far away, but was truly just a week ago, I was in a high state of panic and anxiety most of the day.

Today.

Well.

Not so much.

I thought about it at one point.

I should get anxious!

Really?

That’s your solution?

Get anxious.

Nah.

Did that all day last Tuesday, the thought was fleeting and I was glad to let it go.

Then again, I was also quite busy at work attending to all the things that I wasn’t able to yesterday since the kids had a day off from school.

I was pretty much on the go from the minute I got to work up until the minute I left for work.

Which left little time for anxiety.

I also, thank you to the office of the practicum placement team, got a lot of relief yesterday.

I had a big outstanding question in regards to my supervision for the internship.

Because I am not going through the ICC’s (Integral Counseling Center) I have to an off site supervisor, so my need to skip doing the ICC’s because I needed to have flexibility with my work schedule also presented me with an additional logistic–finding an independent supervisor that was willing to take me on with my weirdo schedule.

The school made a big list of supervisors available to us, but I have to say I was a little dismayed to get a lot of “sorry, I’m not taking on supervisees right now.” when I was making my first rounds of inquiry.

The person whom I’m meeting with tomorrow also was not 100% on board, but he asked what my schedule allowed for and as it turned out, serendipitously, he has a current supervisee who will be leaving him at the same time that I am needing to start, and the time he has available would be work for my schedule, I would go in to see him before I go to work on Monday mornings.

Monday, FYI, which is already a hard day, hello, it’s Monday, is shaping up to be a twelve-hour day.

Two hours off site supervision, seven hours of work, two and a half hours of internship.

9 a.m.-9 p.m.

Yeehaw.

I won’t be starting it all at the same time, however, there will be some breathing space to get used to the additional hours.

IF the supervisor tomorrow takes me on, pretty fucking please, I’ll start an official summer class of two credits Monday, April 24th.

I don’t actually start my internship until Monday, May 22nd.

I’ll be in school until the weekend May 5-7th and then I’ll be in Paris May 11th-May 21st.

Yes, that’s correct, I will start my internship the Monday after I get back from ten days in Paris.

Le sigh.

However, I’ll be starting soft and slow, I probably won’t take on a client that first week.

I get ahead of myself.

All I have to do next is show up tomorrow and be my best self.

I’m not crazy about the fact that the weather is supposed to be shit, I won’t be able to ride my scooter into the interview, but hey, that’s what car share apps are for.

I just have to make sure I give myself enough time to get there and be sorted out.

He made it very clear that I was to be in the office waiting room by 9:30 a.m.

Not buzzing to get in, but actually in the waiting room by 9:30 a.m.

Which is not on the first floor of the building, so I want to be there in a timely manner, give myself a little leeway, a little breathing space, a little moment to pause, pray, and let go, to remember that showing up is the biggest action I can take and that the rest of it will follow.

If he accepts me I have the paperwork ready to be signed and then I can get his signatures and proceed to the next part, which is to take that paperwork to my academic advisor and to the head of the department for their signatures.

Lucky for me, the head of the department and my advisor are the same person.

Once he signs it I can take it to the papers, there’s a lot of them, to the practicum office and hand it over to the woman who so kindly called me to respond to the e-mail question I had.

“You get those signatures from _________ and _________ and I will personally walk it all over to the registrars office for you.”

Thank God.

I can’t wait to have this part of it behind me.

I know there’s so much more to go, this is just one small moving part of a whole machine, a machine that feels super complicated and monstrous and big and behemoth, but it’s doable if I just do a tiny little bit every day.

Some days.

Like tomorrow.

The small bit is actually a bit bigger, but in the end it really is just going to meet a person at 9:30 a.m. on Fell Street in Hayes Valley.

Which, I have to say, is nice place for me to be in supervision, it is easy for me to get to and I know the neighborhood and I’ll b able to do my work commute from there fairly quick.

Plus, there’s good coffee in the neighborhood–Ritual, Blue bottle–always a plus.

It feels really nice to not be so stressed out.

I am super glad the anxiety has faded away and though there is a lot to do, I can feel that I am making progress and the unknown is not so scary now that I have a tiny bit better of a grasp on what I need to do next.

I remind myself that I have only this 24 hours and all the things that needed to get done got done.

I’m happy, I’m healthy, I saw people I love today, I took good care of my charges, and made their dinner and got super big hugs and appreciative compliments about my cooking from both of the kids.

Which is a big deal.

And I know what is just next in front of me.

And that’s all I need to know.

Take the next action in front of me.

Let go of the results.

Easy.

Heh.

 

Logistical Nightmare

May 23, 2013

That’s what my brain says when it gets overloaded.

I was trying to manage everyone’s schedule and not succeeding.

Shocker that.

I also was realizing that I am a commodity and if you want me you have to work with me.  There are certain things I can do and certain things I cannot do.

I cannot figure out the logistics of three children for one day.

I tried.

I know there’s a solution, but I am not capable of providing it at the moment.

I am plum fucking tuckered out.

I was tired the minute I saw the e-mail.

I was tired the moment I tried to tell one family what the other families intentions and needs were.  I got more tired and then teary and then, yes, I cried in front of my employer.

I lost my train of thought, I could not make eye contact and tears just slipped and slid down my face.

“I’m a crier,” I said with a self-deprecating shrug of my shoulders.

“Just so you know, this will happen on the occasion, but I won’t break down in front of the kids, I promise.”

Which is true she was already down for naps having fallen asleep in my lap while I was reading a Doctor Seuss alphabet book to her with the sounds of the ocean on the noise machine in the nursery.

I tried to see my way into a little perspective this evening.

Let’s see today is day 22 since being back from Paris.

It feels like year 22.

I got in on May 1st.  In that time I interviewed with and met four different kids and four different sets of families.  I also moved into a “new” neighborhood with all the challenges therein, got over a horrendous case of jet lag, gone in and out of the city to talk with folks, meet with folks, and do those things that need to be done.

I have logged a lot of miles on my bicycle, house sat in a strange house for eleven days, agreed to pick up another house sitting gig, baby sat for friends, did a sit down at another table for the job I actually want to be doing, and gone grocery shopping a few times.

Note to self, there has got to be a better way.

I feel entirely stretched too thin.

And not thin enough, literally, at the same time.

I have to breathe and just know that whatever happens I am not going to die and I am not going to be a nanny for the rest of my life and yes it is awesome that people want to work with me, it is an ego feeding proposition, but when I am working this hard to stay just there, just sustaining, I am in the exact same place I was in Paris.

This is too hard.

That is what this feels like.

Too hard.

Too much bicycle riding past people with jacked up tires and loud sound systems that are not paying attention to the road conditions.

“Sweet Jesus,” I shouted and swerved to the right, “are you trying to kill me?”

“Damn, he almost hit you,” said the girl in the car as I pedaled on.

He was not even on International, it was Telegraph or Broadway, somewhere fair and pretty and innocuous, or so I thought, it was too early in the day for the swerving and I just slowed it down, just slow it down.

I have what feels like too much and not enough.

I also am living in Tuesday.

Today is Wednesday and who knows what will happen between today and next Tuesday.

I don’t have to.

I don’t have to figure it out.

I don’t have to manage it.

There are six adults to the three kids I will be responsible for, there is one place where I will watch them, they can all figure out the pick up and drop offs.

And nap times.

Well, that will be my responsibility.  And he won’t be sleeping in the stroller the whole time either.  Just the thought of having three kids to wrangle and this one only naps in the stroller while this one naps in the carrier strapped to your body while you push the other kid around makes me want to vomit up the banana I just ate.

That would be a waste, my body needs the potassium, I feel depleted from the bike riding.

There was also the thinking that I would not be able to have my bike on BART during the morning rush hour commute.  To get to Graceland in East Oakland to the house in Cole Valley by 8:45 a.m. made me cringe at the thought of how early am I going to be getting up to get there.

I can’t do this shit for very long.

Either I work harder, how, fuck if I know, or work smarter, again, not too sure what that looks like, or I give myself a break, I am going to have to or I am going to crack.

I also know that this is all change and not knowing what things look like and where they are going and not having a set routine in place yet leads to squirrels chasing none existent nuts in my head.

The only thing I want to do is sit down with my friend who wants me to work for her and learn the ins and outs of what she needs.  The better to show me what I need.

Yet, to do that I need to be self-sufficient here, now, and take care of getting up and running with the money.

I accept the consequences of my actions.

Going to Paris broke my bank and I am just going to have to suck it up and work it out.

This is not going to last.

There is nothing wrong.

My head says I cannot possibly do this.

And I probably could not for very long.

But I can for a just a little bit longer.

 


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