Flawed Perception

I struggle with people who have disproportionately inaccurate mental representations of themselves. I find myself up against a barrier when attempting to relate to individuals who think themselves to be geniuses despite all evidence to the contrary. I can't connect with people who believe they have all the answers, but often supply superficial opinions in response to factual inquiries. I don't understand why wildly popular artists think that they have no skill. I am frustrated with smart people who routinely tell themselves they are dumb.

What's the deal? Why is it that some people are completely blind to their flaws, and others can't see their strengths?

There's the obvious exception for those who have had their beliefs repeatedly reinforced throughout their lives. I get that. It makes sense that self-esteem would be low when others have repeatedly devalued a person's worth. I get the inflated ego of a person raised by a self-esteem junkies.

What I can't figure out is those who fall outside of these categories. The people who had relatively typical upbringings. They had mixed successes and failures. However, the experiences that contradict their self-image were chocked up to luck or external influences. Their confirmation bias allows them to completely ignore that this is not a unique moment in their lives. Do they not see the common threads that point out errors in their judgment? Can they not understand praise/criticism?

My Humble Beginning

On my first day of working with troubled kids, I unknowingly walked into utter chaos. Children were screaming and crying. Kids swore, threw solid blocks at one another, and ran out of the building.  And a frighteningly thin cape-clad boy jumped from atop one wobbly shelf to the next.

Initially, I was barred from fully entering the room because a deceivingly adorable cherub-faced 2 year old was throwing an impressive tantrum by the door. I watched as he completely dysregulated, crawled under the table, and began to scream obscenities while also melodically chanting "you have a stupid face."

I felt ill-equipped to handle this situation. I wanted to turn around and run away as fast as possible, but, for reasons I still have yet to identify, I did not. I walked right into the middle of the room, and observed as things deteriorated. Eventually, I engaged a few children and immediately felt out of my league. The caped child jumped onto a shelf in my area. One kid with an indecipherable speech impediment set him off. A toy was thrown. I moved to intervene, and got pelted in the head with a piece of jagged plastic.

I remember feeling helpless and stupid. I thought it was obvious that I had no idea what to do. I was sure the staff could see I was a moron and had no business being there. Then a nearby therapist came over. I don't remember exactly what she did, but I do recall thinking she was a genius. In minutes, she had miraculously diffused the situation, coaxed the caped boy down, and carried him out of the room. I was in awe of her skill, and simultaneously abashed at my own pathetic attempt to help. When the group ended, I kept thinking how bad I was at this work, and how frightening the whole experience had been. The last thing I remember about that day is this magical therapist telling someone not to thank her for helping because she'd "carry that kid around in a cape any day." Her unconditional regard for that child intrigued me.

Not long after, I began to think my perceptions about my ability were off-base. I was asked to fulfill similar roles more often, and eventually recruited to join the treatment team. I had several opportunities to work directly with this magical therapist. Eventually, I began to tell  her that I felt scared and unskilled often. I was routinely galvanized by her responses to these disclosures. She assured me that not only could I handle terrifying scenarios, but I did it all the time.

Often I did not believe her. She'd try to prove it by citing her observations of my interventions. I'd insist they were always accidental and unintentional. Usually we would agree to disagree, but the knowledge that she believed in me always encouraged me to continue on despite my discomfort. Because of her support, I assisted in intense situations that I would normally avoid. I took on perplexing challenges, and I got to see astonishing growth in some very needy kids.

Just before I left that job to pursue further education, I received a card from her that said:

"You are so talented at this work. I hope you realize how gifted you are shortly so that you can have the most amazing career ever."

I'm not sure that's necessarily true, but as I near the beginning of my internship and prepare to be unleashed into the clinical world, I think of this therapist often. When I think about frightening aspects of my future career, I hear her voice saying "but you do that all the time." When I'm certain I don't know how to handle specific scenarios I remember her arguing with me about my ability.

None of it changes my perception. I still feel naive and unprepared, but now I question the necessity of these feelings. The memories of her perspective and the knowledge that someone I admire believes in me, give me courage to face my fears and help others to do the same.

Flying Bus-Pod

***The following is an excerpt from Raina's Story ****  

“Oh dear!” the voice exclaimed startling Raina out of her slumber.

Realizing that this voice was not one she had ever heard before, Raina froze. She clenched her eyes shut tight. I must still be dreaming, she thought to herself.

The bus began to bounce around wildly. She became ungrounded as her body was thrust side to side by the force of it.

“It will all be over soon,” the voice rationalized with itself. “It will all be over soon.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she received the magnitude of those words. Against her will, Raina’s eyes flew open. She entered the state of survival she had become all too accustom to. Disorientated, Raina found herself sitting atop the same seat she had taken solace in earlier, but it seemed to have been transported into an unfamiliar pod-like vehicle. Even more surprising, it was hurtling through the air. Outside her window, pink clouds flew past them in the opposite direction, and ahead were tree-tops. This bus-pod was going down.

“Oh! Good morning Love,” a stumpy man to her left greeted her with an expression that was clearly an attempt to suppress panic.

With great power, she pushed her eyelids closed once more. This can’t be happening, she pleaded with herself. I am still dreaming. Raina pulled a long-calming breath in through her nostrils. She opened her left eye as the air released between her heart-shaped lips.

“Don’t worry Love.” The man said with frenzied eyes. “It will all be over soon.”

Certain this was IT, she slammed her left eye closed and began to utter her prayers aloud. “This isn’t real.” She quickly whispered. “I’m sleeping. I’m on the bus on my way to school. I fell asleep. This is one of those really vivid dreams. Pretty soon Kevin will nudge me awake.”

But the only nudge that came was from the pudgy man behind the wheel, as a particularly large patch of turbulence sent him flying into her shoulder.

Forced, once again, to deal with a reality she didn’t expect, Raina grunted uncomfortably as she pushed the man off of her. She looked around, they had flattened out a little, but they were in the trees now. Knowing it was all going to end soon, Raina couldn’t let herself die without some answers.

“Who are you?!” she bellowed”

If it was possible, the man looked even more startled. “It’s me,” He answered, patting sweat beads off his glistening scalp. “Bartle.”

Oh, right! Bartle.

“WHO?!” Raina retorted.

However, time was up, and she didn’t get a response. The bus-bench pod slammed into the dirt, and Raina’s head was thrust between her legs. Bartle leaned across her back, but she was too frightened to push back. They propelled forward for what seemed like hours, but was likely only seconds. Curious when it was going to end, Raina looked up. She saw that they were headed straight for the largest tree trunk she had ever seen. Her life shifted back into slow motion. Raina stepped outside herself, and listened as her body screamed in preparation for what was to come.

“It will all be over soon Love,” Bartle repeated himself.

To Be Continued...

Their Life

**The following is an excerpt from Raina's Story **

Just before school started that year, Mean Mark got a job as a janitor at the court house. He resented this job. Raina could tell by his exceptionally sour mood in the evenings. It had to be demeaning to clean up after a system that you helped support for so many years. But, Raina was thankful that Mean Mark had something to do during the day, other than drink himself into an angry stupor.

Tam was in kindergarten now; getting older all the time. Pretty soon he wouldn’t fall for Raina’s tricks. He’d know that she’d been keeping him from the reality of their situation. But for now, he was still that sweet little boy she helped raise.

This morning, like every other, Raina awoke before her brother. Quietly, she danced her daily routine around his mattress as she gathered her things. Then, she gently tapped her brother. She started by humming the tune. When he didn’t open those adorable sleepy brown eyes, Raina began to sing the very same lyrics her mother had sang to her.

“Little one, arise

The sun has come.

We take to the skies

For the day is here.

Little one, awake

We’ll beat the bedlam.

No need to fake

Together there is no fear”

Tam scrunched up his face and turned his head towards her. He opened his mouth in a drawn out yawn, and mumbled something that sounded like “the other ones too.” Then he opened his big brown eyes, and smiled at his sister. He pulled in a long breath of air through his nose, and let out with a relieved “Wain-uh.”

“Time for school sleepyhead,” She said tossing his blond hair. Raina pointed to the foot of his mattress. “Your clothes are right here. I’ll meet you by the door.”

Now that Tam could dress himself, Raina had time to pack them some snacks to eat during lunch. Today was a good day. They each got a bag of chips and half an apple. It wasn’t much, but it added some nutrition to the government funded potato paste and mystery meat the schools stuck to their trays every day. She wrapped the apple halves in napkins, and, just as she finished zipping up their bags, Tam bounded into the kitchen.

“When I was sleeping you were a princess and Mommy saved us!” He exclaimed.

Raina froze.

“What’s that?!” Mean Mark groaned angrily as he sat up in his recliner.

She stepped in front of her brother and braced for the reaction, but Mark wasn’t fully awake this time. He shrugged with unfixed eyes, and whined incomprehensibly before laying back down. Raina couldn’t be quite sure, but it sounded as if his complaint had ended in “her kids.”

When she turned around, Raina found Tam cringed with one eye squinted shut, and the other trained on her. She relaxed her posture, placed one finger over her lips, and tilted her head towards the door. Relieved, Tam opened both his eyes, and tip-toed out of the apartment. Raina shouldered both of their bags and fixed her green eyes on their unwilling guardian as she followed her brother.

When they reached the pavement at the bottom of the steps, she handed him his bag. “You need to be more careful buddy. Mark works really hard to take care of us,” she lied. “He needs his rest.”

Tam slipped his arms into each of the straps, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry Wain-uh,” he said as he kicked at a pebble by the curb.

It wasn’t necessary. She couldn’t be mad at this sweet little boy. He deserved more than that. She poked him in the stomach, then headed off down the sidewalk. “No sweat Tam-tam.” He stifled a giggle, and ran after her.

“So, a princess again?” Raina inquired.

“Yeah!” Tam lit up. “And Mommy saved us this time!”

Together they walked the half mile to the local elementary school. Raina listened as Tam recounted the most recent version of his dreams. She should be flattered. Raina was a prominent figure in her brother’s dreams. She was always fighting off bad guys, or perched above him looking off in the distance. Sometimes she even flew. It was sweet really, but Raina couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by it all.

When they arrived at Tam’s school, Raina muffled a yawn. She loved her brother, but this was her release. After he entered his classroom, Raina could let go. She didn’t need to answer to anyone for the next seven hours. She got to be a kid again, and letting go of her responsibilities just reminded her how exhausting their life had become. At home, she never let her guard down, but this time was hers.

She kissed Tam’s forehead, and watched his Peter Pan backpack bounce up and down as he walked through the doors. Then she pulled away. Knowing they were both safe, she pushed her world behind her, and walked across the street to the bus stop. Dazed, she waited as her classmates gathered around her. As she climbed aboard her yellow transport, the girls giggled about the upcoming dance. She barely even heard the boys pick apart the most recent football game when she settled into her seat. She was too tired to focus on any of it. She only half nodded when Kevin, her lab partner, asked to sit with her.

Raina closed her eyes. She was just going to rest them a little on the way to school. She never actually thought she would fall asleep, but she felt herself drift off before the next stop. The bus must have turned east, because the rising sun made a rainbow of colors dance across her eyelids. She felt warmth spread over her body as her head dipped to the left. With increasing heaviness, her brow settled into Kevin’s shoulder. Raina felt an arm wrap around her own shoulder, but she was too far gone to question it. She didn’t even notice when an unfamiliar voice said “we’re almost there Love.”

To be continued...

A Hero for Midge

When we were kids, my brother used to pick on me. He poked me repeatedly until my shoulder was raw. When the phone rang for me, he held it captive while sitting on my stomach until I gave in and admitted he was king or insulted myself. When we were home alone, he threw nickels at my head.

But, he was my brother all the same. We built forts together. When I was scared, we hid in his room. He walked me to school on my first day of kindergarten. Then he feigned exasperation as he returned my wave in the halls. We played games against one another on our parents' computers, and we danced like fools when our favorite shows came on the television.

He was bigger, and older, so my brother nearly always picked. Everything. TV shows. Radio Stations. Video games. Movies. The occasional book. For this reason, I logged many hours grudgingly learning about G.I. Joes, Calvin and Hobbes, Power Rangers, and most all comic superheroes.

I never thought of my brother as a protective one. Sure, he helped me out occasionally, but mostly with menial tasks that weren't significant enough to be remembered distinctly. When it came to more distressing issues, he didn't seem willing to come to my aid. I specifically remember asking him once to beat up someone who had wronged me. He turned me down.

"Handle it yourself Midge," he told me, seemingly indifferent to my struggles.

Secretly, I craved a brother that cared enough to come to my rescue. I wanted someone to protect me from the bullies of the world. I yearned for him to shelter me from bad experiences, and lift me up when I couldn't reach my solutions. But most of all, I wanted a brother I could be closer to.

As I step tentatively into adulthood, foraging my path and tripping along the way, I'm beginning to see the past differently. As a child, I hated my involuntary exposure to the modern mythology of superheroes. Now, I have developed a kind of affinity for them. I enjoy the stories hidden below the surface. With a more mature vantage point, I see the subtle communication about the human condition. I recognize the archetypes, and I am beginning to understand the allegories.

No one escapes from this world. One way or another, we are all forced to deal with the realities of our existence. Learning to cope, respond, and overcome this is vital, and help often comes in an unexpected costume.

I hadn't seen it before, but my brother was preparing me for this experience. That distance I saw between us was merely perceived. When it came to navigating the complexities of the world, he was actually an incredible guide. He has always been there, watching me from the sidelines. By pulling back, my brother was protecting me. He was sending me a message:

"You are strong, and you can do this."

So, I no longer wish for the stereotypical older brother to loom over me, fight my battles, and hold me back from the world. I understand now, that what I have is infinitely better. I may not see him all the time, but I know that he's there motivating and protecting me in a way that only super heroes can.