Tag Archives: therapy

Hello, hello again. Shaboom, shaboom.

25 Mar

I miss writing.  I was re-reading a few older posts from “All the Sweetest Winds” and it hit me just how much I miss it.  I suppose it’s normal to go through waves.  I started to feel like my writing was a bit forced… hell, I wrote a blog post about glitter pinecones.  Spell-check is trying to tell me that pinecone isn’t one word… since when?  I can’t promise that I won’t write about nonsensical, insignificant things once in a while, but I also want to get back to writing about stuff that matters.  Stories about my residents.  Moments that made me laugh so hard I cried.  Events that broke my heart.  And so on.  Perhaps I’ve been a tad more emotional these past six months because I had grown accustomed to processing significant life events through my writing.  Or maybe I’m just emotional.  I’ll let my family be the judge of that.  Well, maybe not, since they still look back fondly on the days of standing at my bedroom door as I sat looking in the mirror and crying while furiously writing in my Lisa Frank diary and talking out my problems.  If nothing else, at least I can claim to be a multi-tasker.  And a 5th grade drama queen.

On a side note, I have a new role model.  She is in her nineties, wears a big fake flower in her hair every single day, looks for her “missing teeth” on a weekly basis, and busts a move whenever she gets the chance.  We celebrated St. Patrick’s Day with green “beer” (O’Douls) and Irish tunes last week, and it’s characteristic of her to believe that she is consuming actual alcohol during our occasional happy hours.  Before we knew it, she had downed 2 green “beers” and was throwing her head back while shouting, “I just want to DANCE!”


Me too, friend, me too.


Neighborhood Watch

22 Jul

A group of residents were gathered in the Cafe one evening, some coloring, some working on a puzzle, and others simply sitting and chatting.  I always love to see this happen because it makes me think that they do feel that they belong to some sort of community.  There are times where I fear that I sound like a broken record when I repeat the same questions to break the silence – “Where were you born?”, “What kind of music do you like?”, etc etc…  I would much rather prefer the more independent residents initiate conversation between one another that is not so forced.  Apparently, wishes do come true.  The ladies on one end of the table were discussing their nighttime habits; some shared that they liked to have a snack and watch television, while others liked to walk outside or around the building before heading to bed.  One lady, who appears quite “old-school” and modest, announced loudly that her routine includes stripping off all of her clothing and walking around her room before getting into bed.  Quite shocked, my activity assistant quickly made her way over to the other end of the table where a gentleman was working on a puzzle.  Before she was even able to gauge whether or not he had heard the end of the ladies’ conversation, he looked up at her with raised eyebrows and asked, “Where’s her room?”  

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