The beauty of hitting the wall

Monday I had another school conference for our middle son. Just like last time, I hear he's super smart but super emotional and that gets in the way. I shouldn't be going to conferences. I always end up crying. I don't want to hear about it. He's been on behavior plans since 4k. He'll get better as he grows. I'm a genius and so is my husband. His smarts and behaviors are stuff we had/have. Stop telling me about it because we're working on it.


This time they asked he see a counselor. Which makes sense. To us, he's just being our kid. Temperamental and crazy but our whole family is weird. It's ok at home. In school it gets in the way.


So yeah. Booking a counselor appt.


THEN. I find out that a patient who I worked so very hard for, like 30 hours of extra work outside the apt time...he wants to not only fire me-- but to file an official complaint. He's fired three other providers and filed complaints against them too. So I'm not alone but feels personal. I did the extra work because I wanted him to have all the care. I lost sleep over this patient. I worried about this patient. I should have known better. But I couldn't help myself.


THEN. I head off to 'trauma training' for my foster care license. This is a long effing class. Every Monday for 16 weeks at 3 hours a class. All about how trauma affects the brains of developing children and how it translates into some pretty gnarly behavior. The last classes are about how we, as a foster parents, can help heal them.


IT brings up tons of emotional baggage from our last 3 years as foster parents. It rips my guts out. I think the class might be killing me. And this Monday, after the patient, after the conference --I hit a wall.


With a half an hour left,  I was done with the class. I put my head in my hands, breathed and stayed upright. I looked normal but man I was done. I couldn't take any more information about these horribly traumatized kids and how we help them. I was done.


D.U.N.N. done.


But here's the beauty of hitting the wall...


I know have limits. I tend to think I am beyond superhuman strong. If I just plan things right,  I can be Hercules. That is false.


SO. At work I'm putting up some very thick boundaries. Concrete walls of no. I am hired for a reason and will make others do their own work.


SO. I will make absolutely sure Mr. Hall goes to all conferences from now on. I just can't.


AND. This class has three more classes. That'll I finish.


I'll let myself be free for a while. Enjoying the shock of hitting the wall.

Things I need to work on...but probably won't

1. My sensitivity


I am  the most sensitive person the planet right now. Any side eye, teasing or gentle poking feels super harsh. Especially if the teasing involves things I'm passionate about.


POR EJEMPLO


(see that, didn't know I was bilingual did ya?)


I recently became a Lifetime Weight Watchers member. Which means I've made my goal weight and kept it off for six weeks. I don't have to pay for meetings anymore. Unless I gain the weight back of course. I've also applied to become a WW receptionist because I need to pay this forward!


Which brings us to yesterday, surrounded by my coworkers in the break room. I really like my coworkers. I tell them all of the above. I tell them how fun it was applying for this job. It was super fun coming up with a mini resume that included all my accomplishments. I have a master's degree and I'm a nurse practitioner. I'm a married mom of three and a foster mom too. And let's NOT forget the cross fit I kick ass at.


Yes I put crossfit on a resume. UNDER HOBBIES. BOOM SHAKALAKA!!


I tend to forget how much I've done and am. I give all the glory to GOD! I did none of this by myself. I'm a lazy and bossy individual. My strength is puny and inconsistent. His strength works through me. PRAISE HIS NAME!!!


I don't share that last part, with my coworkers, but they known I'm a Jesus freak. So, I don't need to cover that.


THEN.  I tell them that you need to be a lifetime WW member or be within 10 lbs of your goal weight to be a WW receptionist. They start to cackle and poke. They say, "So if you gain 11 lbs you're fired?" Or, "There's a weight requirement? THAT'S DISCRIMINATION!" I try to answer back that it makes sense for healthier people to lead. They continue to cackle and joke. I leave the room and try not to cry.


I don't think people have any fricking clue how much work goes into weight loss. I've spent the last frigging year rearranging everything I know about food. I've changed everything and thrived. I did this while in the thick of having five kids! Two of them being high need foster kids!


So. They were just kidding. But I'm hypersensitive. And I was being prideful. Pride goeth before a fall they say.


But, I probably won't work my sensitivity. Screw it. Empathy is a golden gift. I'm almost 40 years old. My empathy is only getting deeper.