Shoe Tying
Since my last post on January 13, everything involving OT school has taken a dramatic turn, so thought I'd post a little update...
About four weeks into my rotation in Dallas things started to get kind of hairy. I LOVED what I was doing, but it was so stressful. The nature of the program, the medical complexity of the kids, the fast pace, it seemed like there were way too many factors that made up each session - factors that I quickly realize I'd NEVER had a chance to practice, due to the nature of my first rotation, and it was incredibly overwhelming to try to keep everything straight. My supervisors were extremely helpful, kind, and great teachers, but definitely had it down to a science and I quickly felt overwhelmed by my inability to keep up. Stress factors external to the site quickly began to add up and on Thursday of week 7, my supervisors and I agreed that the site wasn't a great fit, so within 24 hours, I went from working my butt off (literally doing nothing but sleep, be in the clinic, study, and go back to bed) to trying to pack everything up in my car and make the eight hour drive home before the 15,000th snowstorm of the year hit Kansas. I hate snow. It was not a good day.
Driving out of Dallas that Saturday morning was one of the most painful things I have done in awhile. I LOVED Dallas. I loved my site. I loved the weather. I loved my new city with it's new friends and new church and new Tex-Mex. I loved my supervisors. Loved it all. I was one of, if not the only, person in my class who had gotten the first choice of site, setting, location, everything. I felt that God truly wanted me in Dallas and at this site because of the way things panned out. Driving out of Dallas and seeing downtown lit up in my review mirror through my tears, there was only one word that could describe how I felt:
Incapable.
It was not a good day.
I have never worked so hard at anything in my life, y'all. Ever. Even during my toughest semester during OT school (calling all my anatomy pals), I NEVER spent this much time just trying to keep up and still failing miserably. I had given my best, my hardest, everything I had, and it hadn't worked out. The transition home was tough - I felt like I was walking around with a cloud hanging over me just labeled 'not good enough.' The one thing I was hanging onto is the Dallas agreed to give me four weeks of credit for my time, so I wouldn't have to completely start over once I found a new site. Moving home, not having a site, and leaving this new place I had loved, dealing with the bitter cold weather, this is what I was hanging onto - still being 'almost' done. Those were not good days.
There was two weeks between my last day in Dallas and my first day at my new site, and I talked with my advisor almost every day. She helped me rewrite my DEC objectives, she helped me not allow my work in Dallas to go to waste, she asked my opinion of what I wanted in a new site, and she listened. She didn't just ask to ask but she actually took it into consideration. She heard me cry more in those weeks than I probably have cried ever. She stuck up for me in front of others when she could by vouching for my clinical skills, my work ethic, and my ability to be better. Unfortunately during those two weeks, she had to deliver the phone call that based on accreditation standards, leaving Dallas had to mean starting over - the ENTIRE 16 weeks. I felt like I had gotten a punch in the gut. Not only did I not get credit for seven weeks of stress and working my butt off, but I wasn't going to graduate on time, which was second in my 'worst case scenario', only after leaving the site, kiddos, and supervisors I loved so much. That was not a good day.
About a week and a half has passed since that phone call and I started at my new site two days after that. It's been a long few weeks - I've been processing a lot in my head - what could I have done better? Does this mean I'll never be good enough for my dream job? Does it mean it requires capabilities I don't have? Does it mean I shouldn't be an OT? Did I ruin my shot at getting a job in Dallas? In pediatrics? Are those supervisors going to forever think I'm incompetent should our paths cross again? Today I led my first treatment session and I realized I had SO much anxiety over it this weekend- because in Dallas there were so many factors in each session and I just never felt caught up. I worried and worried about a treatment session today even though it was a diagnosis I have probably planned a hundred treatment sessions over. I worried about losing the child due to interest, anger, or a thousand other things, including my own panic and anxiety. Those were not good days.
Around week 5 in Dallas when things started getting tough, my advisor began checking in on me regularly. She would call and check in, progressively more when things didn't get better, to talk through things. She texted me to wish me luck, she asked how specific sessions went, she even sent me e-mails just because. She listened to me vent, she heard me cry about my incompetencies, she walked through treatment plans with me for kids she didn't even know. She even sent me a list of podcasts to listen to on my way home so I wouldn't spend my 8 hour drive doing nothing but thinking and overthinking. (Thank you, Dr. Messer). She was my first phone call when I found out I was coming home. That was not a good day.
The last few weeks has been the first time I realized how truly difficult my job is - I've always known it's rewarding, but man, it's complex. There are so many factors - especially with kids. You have to choose what to focus on, what activities to use, how hard to make it before your child loses interest, and a million other things. You have to guess how much tolerance they have, you have to be engaging, you have to do it like mom and dad do it. Have they had a bad day at school? Are they already frustrated with their day and working on hard things aren't going to help? What kinds of things do they deal with at home? How will you bring them back when you've lost them to a tantrum of frustration? It might be a hard day.
For the first since December 7 (the last day of my last rotation) today I felt competent. With one kid, one note, one session. I picked things he enjoyed. I motivated him when he was disengaged. I reigned him back in when he became upset about how difficult shoe tying was by reminding him all the steps he did well. We frog jumped, kangaroo hopped, and dog barked all the way down the hallway so I could send him on his way in a good mood, despite his frustration. It may have been luck, it may have been a good day for him, it may have been a lot of things. Today was a good day.
One of the many, many wise things my advisor told me while we were on the phone over the last few weeks was when I was mad about not graduating on time. I don't WANT to plan sessions for kids the Monday after graduation. I'm still pretty bummed and not really looking forward to getting to graduate anyway because it doesn't really feel like I've done anything. But she said to me ..."Emily, this is like short term and long term goals for your patients. I know you, and I know you would never, ever tell you patient they didn't meet a long term goal you wanted them to meet. That doesn't mean they aren't ever going to meet it, it means that for right now, we have to focus on the short term goals they did meet."
Her extremely humbling and generous comment last week combined with a tearful child who just CANNOT figure out shoe tying today brought me back down a few notches. The lesson in working for what I want has been beating me over the head the last 11 weeks, and I'm learning it that way even though I don't want to. The last 11 weeks has been some of least confident weeks of my life but I have learned so much about my job. I have learned that when I think I am having a bad day trying to learn to do what I want to do, the kids I work with have it ten times harder because they cannot keep up with their peers in sports, handwriting, or social skills, and they do not know why. For the kids I work with, we might have 100 bad days before we have one good one. But we will take it.
Today was a good day.
If I could compare the last 11 weeks to anything, it would be the child I was working with today on tying his shoes. It seems so EASY for everyone else. Why can't I GET this? I just can't remember the steps. I can't make my fingers work like yours can. He cried, he got frustrated, but we eventually got it done. We will have to practice a lot more before he can do it without help. But I was there to listen to his frustration and help him with the specific step that was bothering him the most. When I called my advisor and told her we had come to the conclusion I was leaving, she didn't ask what I could have done better, or how I let this happen, or even any reflection questions. At all. I sat in an empty hospital room and cried over the realization that this was just not working. And she said 'How are you?' And she meant it.
I learned from her that despite knowing the best interventions, the evidence based theories, having the best time management skills, the best ability to choose a developmentally appropriate task, and being engaging so my kids always want to come see me, the most important thing that I can do is listening when I ask my kids how their day was.
I cannot do a job well if I did not work just as hard for it as the kids that I do the job for.
My job is the coolest, and I will continue to work for it, even if it comes eight weeks late.
About four weeks into my rotation in Dallas things started to get kind of hairy. I LOVED what I was doing, but it was so stressful. The nature of the program, the medical complexity of the kids, the fast pace, it seemed like there were way too many factors that made up each session - factors that I quickly realize I'd NEVER had a chance to practice, due to the nature of my first rotation, and it was incredibly overwhelming to try to keep everything straight. My supervisors were extremely helpful, kind, and great teachers, but definitely had it down to a science and I quickly felt overwhelmed by my inability to keep up. Stress factors external to the site quickly began to add up and on Thursday of week 7, my supervisors and I agreed that the site wasn't a great fit, so within 24 hours, I went from working my butt off (literally doing nothing but sleep, be in the clinic, study, and go back to bed) to trying to pack everything up in my car and make the eight hour drive home before the 15,000th snowstorm of the year hit Kansas. I hate snow. It was not a good day.
Driving out of Dallas that Saturday morning was one of the most painful things I have done in awhile. I LOVED Dallas. I loved my site. I loved the weather. I loved my new city with it's new friends and new church and new Tex-Mex. I loved my supervisors. Loved it all. I was one of, if not the only, person in my class who had gotten the first choice of site, setting, location, everything. I felt that God truly wanted me in Dallas and at this site because of the way things panned out. Driving out of Dallas and seeing downtown lit up in my review mirror through my tears, there was only one word that could describe how I felt:
Incapable.
It was not a good day.
I have never worked so hard at anything in my life, y'all. Ever. Even during my toughest semester during OT school (calling all my anatomy pals), I NEVER spent this much time just trying to keep up and still failing miserably. I had given my best, my hardest, everything I had, and it hadn't worked out. The transition home was tough - I felt like I was walking around with a cloud hanging over me just labeled 'not good enough.' The one thing I was hanging onto is the Dallas agreed to give me four weeks of credit for my time, so I wouldn't have to completely start over once I found a new site. Moving home, not having a site, and leaving this new place I had loved, dealing with the bitter cold weather, this is what I was hanging onto - still being 'almost' done. Those were not good days.
There was two weeks between my last day in Dallas and my first day at my new site, and I talked with my advisor almost every day. She helped me rewrite my DEC objectives, she helped me not allow my work in Dallas to go to waste, she asked my opinion of what I wanted in a new site, and she listened. She didn't just ask to ask but she actually took it into consideration. She heard me cry more in those weeks than I probably have cried ever. She stuck up for me in front of others when she could by vouching for my clinical skills, my work ethic, and my ability to be better. Unfortunately during those two weeks, she had to deliver the phone call that based on accreditation standards, leaving Dallas had to mean starting over - the ENTIRE 16 weeks. I felt like I had gotten a punch in the gut. Not only did I not get credit for seven weeks of stress and working my butt off, but I wasn't going to graduate on time, which was second in my 'worst case scenario', only after leaving the site, kiddos, and supervisors I loved so much. That was not a good day.
About a week and a half has passed since that phone call and I started at my new site two days after that. It's been a long few weeks - I've been processing a lot in my head - what could I have done better? Does this mean I'll never be good enough for my dream job? Does it mean it requires capabilities I don't have? Does it mean I shouldn't be an OT? Did I ruin my shot at getting a job in Dallas? In pediatrics? Are those supervisors going to forever think I'm incompetent should our paths cross again? Today I led my first treatment session and I realized I had SO much anxiety over it this weekend- because in Dallas there were so many factors in each session and I just never felt caught up. I worried and worried about a treatment session today even though it was a diagnosis I have probably planned a hundred treatment sessions over. I worried about losing the child due to interest, anger, or a thousand other things, including my own panic and anxiety. Those were not good days.
Around week 5 in Dallas when things started getting tough, my advisor began checking in on me regularly. She would call and check in, progressively more when things didn't get better, to talk through things. She texted me to wish me luck, she asked how specific sessions went, she even sent me e-mails just because. She listened to me vent, she heard me cry about my incompetencies, she walked through treatment plans with me for kids she didn't even know. She even sent me a list of podcasts to listen to on my way home so I wouldn't spend my 8 hour drive doing nothing but thinking and overthinking. (Thank you, Dr. Messer). She was my first phone call when I found out I was coming home. That was not a good day.
The last few weeks has been the first time I realized how truly difficult my job is - I've always known it's rewarding, but man, it's complex. There are so many factors - especially with kids. You have to choose what to focus on, what activities to use, how hard to make it before your child loses interest, and a million other things. You have to guess how much tolerance they have, you have to be engaging, you have to do it like mom and dad do it. Have they had a bad day at school? Are they already frustrated with their day and working on hard things aren't going to help? What kinds of things do they deal with at home? How will you bring them back when you've lost them to a tantrum of frustration? It might be a hard day.
For the first since December 7 (the last day of my last rotation) today I felt competent. With one kid, one note, one session. I picked things he enjoyed. I motivated him when he was disengaged. I reigned him back in when he became upset about how difficult shoe tying was by reminding him all the steps he did well. We frog jumped, kangaroo hopped, and dog barked all the way down the hallway so I could send him on his way in a good mood, despite his frustration. It may have been luck, it may have been a good day for him, it may have been a lot of things. Today was a good day.
One of the many, many wise things my advisor told me while we were on the phone over the last few weeks was when I was mad about not graduating on time. I don't WANT to plan sessions for kids the Monday after graduation. I'm still pretty bummed and not really looking forward to getting to graduate anyway because it doesn't really feel like I've done anything. But she said to me ..."Emily, this is like short term and long term goals for your patients. I know you, and I know you would never, ever tell you patient they didn't meet a long term goal you wanted them to meet. That doesn't mean they aren't ever going to meet it, it means that for right now, we have to focus on the short term goals they did meet."
Her extremely humbling and generous comment last week combined with a tearful child who just CANNOT figure out shoe tying today brought me back down a few notches. The lesson in working for what I want has been beating me over the head the last 11 weeks, and I'm learning it that way even though I don't want to. The last 11 weeks has been some of least confident weeks of my life but I have learned so much about my job. I have learned that when I think I am having a bad day trying to learn to do what I want to do, the kids I work with have it ten times harder because they cannot keep up with their peers in sports, handwriting, or social skills, and they do not know why. For the kids I work with, we might have 100 bad days before we have one good one. But we will take it.
Today was a good day.
If I could compare the last 11 weeks to anything, it would be the child I was working with today on tying his shoes. It seems so EASY for everyone else. Why can't I GET this? I just can't remember the steps. I can't make my fingers work like yours can. He cried, he got frustrated, but we eventually got it done. We will have to practice a lot more before he can do it without help. But I was there to listen to his frustration and help him with the specific step that was bothering him the most. When I called my advisor and told her we had come to the conclusion I was leaving, she didn't ask what I could have done better, or how I let this happen, or even any reflection questions. At all. I sat in an empty hospital room and cried over the realization that this was just not working. And she said 'How are you?' And she meant it.
I learned from her that despite knowing the best interventions, the evidence based theories, having the best time management skills, the best ability to choose a developmentally appropriate task, and being engaging so my kids always want to come see me, the most important thing that I can do is listening when I ask my kids how their day was.
I cannot do a job well if I did not work just as hard for it as the kids that I do the job for.
My job is the coolest, and I will continue to work for it, even if it comes eight weeks late.
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