I was allowed to cry with my client

If you are a Christian you would say "God work in a miraculous way". But as a non Christian I just got the feeling that somehow in life we are meant for each other in some small ways and in a strange connectedness.
Last weekend my lecturer discussed grief and loss, which can be any "ruptured attachment". We broke into small groups to discuss a loss which we have encountered and to think of the resultant losses that accompany it eg. loss of hope, loss of control etc. In my small group, a participant described the loss of a family member and my lecturer happened to be with us when going round to observe. As it was quite an emotional session we actually got to witness how the lecturer handled the situation and helped my class mate processed her grief.
This week back at the school where I volunteer, the school counsellor handed me a case about a teenage girl who has some relationship problem with her mother, a widow. I thought to myself casually there may be some unresolved issue about the loss of her father, which I could then apply what I have learnt. Usually for the first session I am quite relaxed because it is more like building rapport to win the client's trust before they will open up and pour their heart.
I was quite taken aback when it took less than 10 minutes for the girl to pour out her grief over the loss of her father who passed away quite suddenly 5 years ago. I would not have known how to react if not for the example shown by my lecturer. In fact when one of my classmates asked whether it was ok if the counsellor shed tears, my lecturer commented that it shows that the counsellor cares and we are human aren't we. Thank goodness for that answer because I actually pulled a tissue and dried my eyes and said softly to my client " You really touched me". See, the girl feels so insecure because in addition to the loss, her mother also had breast cancer though now in remission.
So I used exactly the same method, said almost the same things that my lecturer did. The session lasted almost 2 hours, after which she said she had not shared so much about her sadness before. Walking home I began to feel the little things we do really affect each other; my classmate who was so brave in sharing a loss which still hurts, the lecturer in being with our group at the right moment resulting in me being taught what to say and how to help, and the girl presenting herself this week (she had turned down an earlier appointment a few months ago). I think of it as we being tiny threads in a piece of fabric.

Frustrations of the wealthy and powerful

Interesting extract from article "Challenges of $600-a-session Patients" published in New York Times July 7 2008:

"It is not uncommon to find in wealthy and powerful patients an extremely low tolerance for frustration, the therapists said.

Dr. Seth Aidinoff, a NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital psychiatrist who practices on the Upper East Side and also consults for hedge funds and Wall Street firms, illustrated the consequences with the Saturday-afternoon choice faced by “your typical master of the universe,” who can either play outside with his 7-year-old or stay inside to complete a business deal on the phone.

“The phone call might involve the most important and interesting people in the world, being well compensated for his time, and the chance to handle it with A-plus skill,” Dr. Aidinoff said. “Whereas playing with his 7-year-old might be sort of boring, or unsatisfying; his son might not fully express his appreciation, or the child could even be in a bad mood. So this person might find himself terrified of spending time with his child because it’s not an activity he can control or succeed at the high level of accomplishment to which he is accustomed.”

Because so much of ordinary life is built on small failures and frustrations, therapists see among this patient group a great disenchantment. "

Read the whole article if you can afford the time.

Object of desire- Instant delight

Watched the news about people queuing up to 3 days to get I-phones. A customer was visibly happy to get one after forgoing a few nights' sleep. I often wondered about how people can get so thrilled in getting their "object of desire". I started to think what is my own object of desire that could render such joy. By golly, I felt a bit embarrassed to think it could be 'money' itself. I remember being so thrilled and exhilarated during the heady, hazy, happy days of the stock market bull run, hahaha. I then psycho myself such worldly pleasures do not last. Yet, I am no saint. I am wondering now whether a person can like money and at the same time like to help people.

Counselling students can arouse feelings alternating between contentment and sadness, content when some change for the better is observed, sad when students seem so helpless in their predicament of low esteem,trapped in an unfavourable environment. I think my greatest challenge becoming a counsellor is to be less attached. My heart despairs when my young clients declare they "don't care" or they are "ok" but you can see the empty gaze in their eyes, the sense of futility. Sigh, the school counsellor whom I am assisting is thinking of quitting and changing line.

So after the counselling sessions in school, I go home, on CNBC and my mood can be lifted instantly when certain stock is doing well (of course during the recent down swings it does more dampening than lifting haha). That is exactly what I mean: money is the object of instant delight.

However deep in me I know I have to allocate more time to do the job well if counselling is the confirmed path. See, a lot more research, thought and further learning is required to improve on the skill set handling all the varied issues. This is especially so when I start my internship with a Family Service Centre end of the year.

Hence I should review my portfolio and switch to the safer and defensive stocks that do not need much monitoring. Hopefully they can bring some delight from time to time.

Strange thoughts at Redang

Had an idyllic holiday with my family at Redang Island, bathing in the crystal clear turquoise sea water, snorkelling for hours surrounded by shoals of fishes and gazing at big sea cucumbers and unspoilt corals.

Perhaps staying afloat in a life jacket (facing downwards) for hours may have affected my brains a little. Back at the beach, waking up from a nap, lounged on a deck chair in a paivlion draped with white chiffon curtains, I began to entertain strange thoughts. The soft drone of a far off motor boat, the chirpings of the birds, the figures dotting the sea, toddlers playing sand on the beach, people lazing on rows of deck chairs under attap sheds and insects buzzing around became part of a painting in a big white canvas. BUT a hundred years from that moment, not a single life in that picture would remain, no not even the corals beneath the sea. Yes all would have passed on and a totally new set of life will be there in its place. Perhaps a tree or a form of flora may be still around, otherwise none of the plentiful living things in this painting still live. And yes, such is the nature of the world, life moves on only to be replaced by others, there is no holding on.

In the evening, dining at the seaside restaurant, entertained by my daughter's amusing anecdotes and exaggerated descriptions of her classmates in New York, I was having such a good feeling when suddenly I thought to myself how good it would be if the world stood still at that moment forever. Yes I wanted that feeling to remain forever. The zest for new experiences and new adventures was in her blood whereas for me it was the wish to hold on to a good feeling. Therein lies the difference in needs between her and me.