The Couples Tool Kit
Working together as a team of three — by Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W., Specialist in Couples TherapyArchive for intellectual disability
Coffee Grinds: The Sequel 11-16-11
Spill Over Into Wednesday: I regrouped, or so I thought, from yesterday’s weariness only to find this morning that my coffee filter was gone. Guess how? Yep, when I emptied the filter onto the Fed Ex envelope that I mindlessly threw into the garbage, the filter went in too. Pretty concrete way to measure exhaustion. Our rather potent garbage mix (thanks to a 21 pound cat’s litter) is kept outside in a wooden bin and today is garbage pick-up day so in bathrobe and socks, I flew out of the house and retrieved said filter in the nick of time. Oh boy!
Katy Perry and The Medicaid Mix-Up: I am beginning to notice that a special needs adult’s life isn’t that different from a special needs child’s life. Everything is complicated. More complicated than “normal” you ask? I think so. Am I surprised? Not exactly, but living it is different then contemplating it. The planning and prevention that is going into taking our daughter to meet up with her escorts and attend the Madison Square Garden concert this evening has probably yielded 10 emails and 3 phone calls.
The Medicaid mix-up, which at this juncture they are blaming on our daughter’s special needs trust (SNT — another jolly acronym supplied this time by our attorney), is ongoing and encompasses the usual disconnect between agencies and professionals, with the client/consumer at the mercy of them all. That mix up probably generated 12 emails and two phone calls alone yesterday with our attorney losing his temper in one of those correspondences, fortunately only to me. In fact he was pretty funny using the analogy of the firefighter/arsonist lighting a fire so he/she can look heroic by putting it out. Strong condemnation but I get how frustrated he must feel, when he does the work, and well, and a less knowledgeable bureaucrat challenges it. Hopefully redemption is in store for both of us when Hartford stamps all with approval.
Off To NYC: In a couple of hours I head out with the star magnet, and fingers crossed, she bonds well both with Katy Perry and the MSG scene. Toes crossed on this one too.
2:55 P.M. Received an email from the vocational coordinator just as I am about to depart to pick up daughter for NYC. The ROAR folks cancelled her volunteer work this Friday as the person assigned to train her has left. Now let me count the delays: ROAR renovation, not personal. Ringworm, not personal. Power outage, not personal. Staff departure, not personal. ABD vocational life skills staff resigns after two weeks, not personal. ABD takes two months to find suitable replacement, not personal. Ridgefield Crossings power outage, not personal. Ridgefield Crossings senior resident out at dentist appointment, not personal. So why does it feel so personal? Frustrating and disappointing. At least for mom. Have to check in with the gal.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
Home Heals: 11-13-11
Sunday, A Day Of Rest: Today our daughter is with us. She slept here last night, a good and restful sleep after “The worst week of my life.” It was a rough week, littered with interpersonal ruptures that took their toll with familiar melt downs so characteristic of this time of year, SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), that “time of the month,” the full moon and schedule pressures. The good news is that her animal care jobs at ROAR and The Complete Cat Clinic remained unscathed but I felt the need to step in and gave her the choice to sleep “home” last night to prevent any damage to her warm relationship with her apartment-mate, as there was some spill over from the week’s difficulties.
Reruns of Drama in The Dorm: My husband and I recalled how at least twice an academic season at boarding school, our daughter needed rescue from “drama in the dorm.” “People are trying to get into my business” would translate to “bring her home for down time.” Though the dramas occurred outside the “dorm” this year, the dynamics were the same. ABD (Ability Beyond Disability) has been wonderful, including telephone conferencing at 9 P.M. last evening. The residential coordinator impressed me with her grasp of our gal’s dynamics and consultations are in the works.
Recovery: The star magnate has a date to see Katy Perry in concert at MSG (Madison Square Garden) this Wednesday night with two super ladies in the entertainment business. In light of the recent downturn, I asked our daughter if she still were up for the event and this morning received an affirmative response. I know she has no idea what she is in for, which is unsettling. Friday evening I watched the HBO filming of the Madison Square Garden Lady Gaga concert and O.M.G., though Katy Perry is not Lady G., just the size, the sound, the lights, the bombardment of sensory stimulation might be over the top for our gal. I plan to be on call to bail her out if necessary.
Momma Boundaries: But the ladies invited her, and she signed on to go. Beyond some heads up for the escorts, I leave this to the powers that be, with Fingers Crossed, that a good time will be had by all. Typical parental role, I know.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
Shaking Things Up: 11-12-11
Friday’s Visit: Yesterday afternoon I stopped by to drop off a check for our daughter’s November recreational costs. Though entitlements fund rent and staffing, food, household goods and Medicaid, (if they finally reinstate her) nothing is left over for costs such as clothes, furnishings, and outings of any kind including movies, the recreation center, Sphere and Pegasus. Each month, each mom forks over $140 for the girls’ other needs (which is in addition to paying membership fees or class costs for Pegasus or Sphere or Ridgefield Recreation Center.) When I arrived our daughter was upstairs on her laptop, probably watching The Pacific but came down to chat and open up a birthday card from a Riverview classmate. I was so happy to hear that her first morning at ROAR was a success. They trained her to clean out a cat cage. And then she went off to The Complete Cat Clinic where she also had a good experience. Later, when her apartment-mate returned from her volunteer job (their schedules are flipped so that one staff member can serve both girls, which is how their fundings are collapsed to provide optimal coverage within a tight budget) I actually met the new vocational life skills person who seemed on the ball and substantiated my perceptions of what occurred the day before at the Senior Residence.
Shaking Things Up: Knowing that our daughter has begun her pre-winter seasonal slump (which I believe correlates with a seasonal affective disorder as I have observed this downward trajectory since her elementary school days and have looked into allergies, homeopathic remedies, and much else) I offered some suggestions to her residential staff. Research has shown that the more uninterrupted hours you sit before any screen, television, video or computer, the more mood is negatively impacted. Besides the obvious deleterious effects that a prolonged sedentary state has on our bodies, the endless hours of staring at the computer screen is a ticket to a grumpy kid or adult. In addition, exercise and oxygen (as in getting outdoors) , social contact and variety, stimulate endorphins and counteract depressive tendencies. So ladies, let’s shake things up here.
Too Much Screen Time: The commitment to physical exercise, swimming and the gym, has been implemented by the ABD staff but illness, power outages, shorter days and schedule issues have interrupted what was in the first months of CRS (Continuous Residential Support), a fairly active lifestyle for the apartment-mates. While our daughter’s mate enjoys and is able to play board games and cards with staff in the living room, which I observe when I visit, I often find our daughter up in her room at her desk on Facebook or watching a movie on the computer. Though her choice of movies is pretty high level, stimulates her thinking and expands her knowledge base and her interactions on Facebook are age appropriate social exchanges, the sedentary, monotonous process of screen involvement needs to be shortened and interspersed with “activity.” I think this has been a significant contribution to her recent emotional decline.
Staff Agrees: When I left the girls yesterday, after conversing with staff about this issue, they were inspired to go off to the Recreation Center to swim and apparently stayed in the pool for a full hour. Super. Staff gets it completely. But I will follow-up with an email to the higher-ups regarding monitoring our daughter’s time on the computer, with plans to create more variety and movement, indoors and out, so she doesn’t suffer from computer hangover.
Follow-Up To Vocational Flop: Don’t get me wrong. I am not impossible to please. Grateful that ROAR gets our daughter, gave her a job she could do and according to the ABD vocational staff member, seems to have a handle on how to work with her, I am not on a roll to castigate or reprimand for Thursday’s flop. But I have asked for a meeting with ABD vocational and residential staff coordinators, which was supported by a staff member who agrees that clarifying our daughter’s strengths and challenges with sensible parameters would be good to do, again. I understand that we are in the early stages of “adult independent living.” Much to learn for all of us.
Distance Is Good Too: I have to say that when our daughter lived 200 plus miles away ten months a year, for five years, subtracting vacations home, distance was not a bad thing for an intense mom whose boundaries can be a bit porous. I am sure for staff working with our daughter, that maternal distance has its virtues. For daughter, definitely. Those five years at boarding school were all we could have wished for her. She developed greater confidence and skill in every pore of her being. And though mom and dad are only eight miles away now, thankfully she is still growing, despite the maternal magnet to the east. Once the seasonal affective adjustment works its way through her system and my reactivity to her/it, we should be back on a more even keel.
Fingers Crossed.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
Is This A Joke? 11-11-11
Gin Rummy: Our daughter’s first day of volunteer work at Ridgefield Crossings was a bust. The senior lady with the cat was out at a dentist appointment when our daughter and her staff escort arrived. So instead of being a “companion” she was asked to play cards with other residents. Gin Rummy. Did anyone read her file, the scores of reports from her school, the vocational data meticulously documented by her teachers and placed in neat folders which I copied and passed along to Ability Beyond Disability and then reminded them to share and share and share? Gin Rummy. What transpired?
Set-Up For Failure: When our daughter checked in with me early afternoon yesterday to tell me she borrowed the series “The Pacific” from the Ridgefield Library and two holocaust movies, including Sophie’s Choice (“It was hard to follow the story”) I inquired into how her new job at Ridgefield Crossings went. She told me the tale of the absentee senior. I shifted quickly to cover my disappointment and frustration, asking if she were excited about ROAR the next day. Big pause. Big pause that signals trouble. Uh oh. “Is there a problem?” Her answer “I am having trouble with focusing.” O.K. “That’s O.K. That is a part of your disability. You are working on that.” Then she mentions the card game, “I was having trouble with the card game.” Card game? I figured that when she came back to her apartment, they played cards. Funny, our daughter doesn’t really know how to play cards, maybe Gold Fish. Games, numbers, money, are areas of significant deficit for her, in fact her most profound deficit. I could hear that she was discouraged. Shortly after we spoke, when I called the vocational coordinator, did clarity set in. Our daughter had been asked to play gin rummy at the senior residence, with her staff attempting to teach her the game on the spot and of course she wasn’t focused. That is like teaching me to speak Chinese over hot and sour soup at the local take-out. Naturally, she felt like she failed. Great. And she was taking that feeling to her next new volunteer job today, the long awaited animal shelter ROAR, where one assumes those residents, the cats and dogs, will not be out at dentist appointments. Jeezus Beezus!
Prevention: That was the word I uttered over and over with both the vocational coordinator and later the residential coordinator. Prevention. How about Preparation and Prevention? PP. These volunteer settings have to know who our daughter is in advance so they don’t set her up for failure. And the ABD staff on site should provide the essential data to enlighten them. The only job so far that has worked out is the one I arranged two years ago at The Complete Cat Clinic. Is this a joke? If it is, why aren’t I laughing? Poor kid. This just isn’t fair.
The Curse of 11-11-11? Frankly I am not going to cross my fingers on today’s ROAR event. I’ve lost my optimism and am not inviting any more disappointment for her or for me for the moment. Can it be the curse of 11-11-11 that is sucking the optimism out of my veins? The honeymoon is over and adult independent living has hit some mighty big pot holes.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
The Senior, The Cat and The Daughter: 11-10-11
Ridgefield Crossings: It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, burnt orange leaves glisten with gemstone rain drops outside my office window, framed by streaks of blue, grey and white sky and our daughter is off to her new volunteer job. Hurrah. Fingers crossed, the senior, the cat and the daughter get along. Is the moon still full? According to the Clark Planetarium website, it is a “Waxing Gibbous Moon.” May it wax positively in our daughter’s direction.
Holiday Pressure: With the holiday season upon us, an atmosphere, starting with her birthday, that triggers our daughter’s acquisitive instincts to the exclusion of much else, I can not be certain where our daughter’s focus will be today. Visiting her local library yesterday, she stumbled upon the DVD collection for the HBO series “The Pacific” and became obsessed with owning a copy. This lead to a series of texts all evening, resumed promptly at 7 a.m. this morning, requesting that we buy the $44.99 collection from Amazon. I read in her texts the urgency and pressure she is feeling; “I must have this now.” and it fills me with anxiety. I know this script. We finally resolved the written conversation at 8:15 a.m. with her compliance to wait for Christmas and in the meantime, borrow the collection from the library (she is afraid she won’t be able to finish it by the due date, though she is told that she can renew.) This isn’t about reason. This is about a search for some kind of satisfaction, some inner longing that only a specific object can satisfy and it use to run our lives.
ROAR Confirmed: Yes indeed, she is scheduled to show up at ROAR with her vocational staff at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning to begin the long sort for volunteer opportunity. She has waited years for this, since she chose animal care as her focus at Riverview’s post secondary Grow program in conjunction with Cape Cod Community College. Will her focus be on how many days until Christmas, (that was the text question this morning) or will the four-legged clients move her to alternative sources of satisfaction, other than the lust and longing for material goods.
Fingers Crossed: May the lure of the animal kingdom triumph over the siren call of the holiday season. Fingers crossed.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
An Off Day: 11-09-11
A Full Moon? Was it the full moon last night? Sure looked and felt that way to me. While on route to my oil change our daughter text me “I’m having an off day.” When I called she greeted me sobbing hysterically. I could barely make out what she was saying but recognized enough words to determine that an incident occurred with a DSO group leader. Since she was in transit, and her residential staff driving, we postponed our conversation until we all had reached our destination, which for me was the bleak waiting room of the Toyota service department. Fitting.
An Asteroid, An iPhone Or A Hangover: There was nothing new here. Not really. Her group went bowling but our gal was otherwise engaged with her new phone rather than “the task at hand,” busily texting and presumably ignoring repeated warnings to desist and focus on the game. Words ensued, and when the residential staff arrived, the disconcerted, as in “pissed” I assume, group leader talked “behind my back” describing our daughter as rude and fresh. Oh boy. “Mom, can I see you.” Frankly I have never heard her so enraged or outraged in all our years of “moments” such as these. Could it be the full moon, or the asteroid hurling toward our planet that evening, too much birthday hangover or embarrassment and shame. “I couldn’t stop Mom, and she called it a toy. It is not a toy. It’s a phone.”
The Question? Three hours later, during which time I made a couple of calls, and listened to our daughter vent while driving her to Goodwill, at her request, (her coping resource has always been shopping,) to donate her old winter coat and some PJ’s, waited while she poked through stuff, choosing three items, spotting with her keen eye a slightly worn Vera Bradley purse which she paid for with birthday funds, she agreed to handle this dispute like a grown up. The question I asked myself, moments after I agreed to come by, was what should my role be here? Do I end up gratifying a “naughty girl?” Do I exacerbate the hysteria by my presence. Do I undermined staff? I discussed this with the residential head in one of the phone calls while sitting in the Toyota waiting room, with the coffee canisters and creamers on a table close by tempting me to drown my frustrations in bad caffeine. She had no answers either just “Well, you’re the parent so whatever you think is best.” Huh?
Answer Anyone? I still don’t have the answer even as I write this at 5 a.m. this morning, up since 3:30 doing downward dog stretches on the yoga mat while the real item sleeps soundly close by on her leopard spotted bed. No answer, just another day. Another asteroid.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
Oil Change: 11-08-11
Coming Attractions: Today I am off to get an oil change, 20,000 miles plus on my new Toyota Venza, purchased a year ago on our daughter’s 21 birthday, November 4, and it seems appropriate to my state of mind. I am a bit burned out by birthday celebrations, storms and sickness and look forward to a clean up. The week’s weather bodes well for the likelihood of our daughter commencing with the long-awaited volunteer jobs at Ridgefield Crossings Thursday and ROAR Friday.
Quilt Completed? Once those job settings are in place, a weekly rhythm of two days DSO (Day Service Options) on Monday and Tuesday, two vocational days with three volunteer jobs on Thursday and Friday (ROAR, Ridgefield Crossings and The Complete Cat Clinic), Wednesday’s residential catch up composed of an in-house team meeting, behaviorist included, laundry, errands and bank fulfill the requirements of a five-day structured program. SPHERE Thursday evenings, Ridgefield Park and Recreation work out at the fitness center or pool in the afternoons, perhaps Yoga and/or Angelfish Therapeutic Aquatics as evening programming, Saturday morning Pegasus, and weekends replete in family events, friends, movies, museums, fairs, town activities and holy tamole, our daughter’s adult independent living quilt is complete. Whew!
We even purchased the needed new cell phone and winter coat yesterday, both long overdue. Ready to roll?
Fingers Crossed!
And On That Note: Happy Birthday To Blogger Guy’s Amazing Bride, the woman who stands by the man who stands by the blogging me.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
Humor, The Antidote: 11-07-11
The Two O’clock Hour: Our daughter went to sleep at two in the morning after Friday night’s birthday. Though evening staff has a role to ensure that the girls shut off cell phones and laptops by 10 P.M. to enable them to wind down for a decent night’s sleep, somehow our daughter managed to keep connections alive well into the wee hours of the morning as evidenced by her brother receiving her texts well past midnight. Where was staff?
Variables: Sure, there were variables, birthday excitement, 9 P.M. ice cream, and anticipation of the next day’s continuing celebration. But there are always variables and transition from wakefulness to sleep, and sleep to wakefulness has plagued life with our daughter since toddlerhood.
The Hated Vicious Cycle: Naturally, though much of the Saturday celebration was successful, parts of it were blighted by our daughter’s hyper fatigue (not an oxymoron: exhausted and endless complaining has an energy that doesn’t stop, like our house alarm battery that kept beeping even as it was dying, all night long during the latest storm.) She had to rise early to attend Pegasus riding class and by the time she joined us for the second half of her birthday festivities, she had that grumpy, frankly annoying thing going on that has spoiled many an outing, many an hour of family life, her life, and her performance for two decades. I found myself, after the first hour or so of hearing about how the staff made her get up that morning and blah, blah, blah, ready to fold up the mother tent and hide in a cave.
Issues Don’t Change: Yes, the ABD (Ability Beyond Disability) staff has been informed and chats will take place between daughter and staff (they have a residential meeting once a week with the staff behaviorist), cells and laptops will be taken away at night if necessary to avoid another recurrence. The residential director is trained to do this without casting a punitive spin. Better she than me. For me, boy does it bite. When you try to connect the dots, make her responsible for her time, and yet be empathic with how awful it is to be awakened “early” and exhausted, she says “It isn’t my fault.” and though you struggle to explain that this isn’t blame, just an attempt to show her how to do it differently next time and check her clock (“I forget to look.”) or realize staff needed to rouse her in time for horse back riding, all aggravates her further. Yet, if you provide no feedback, hoping that the issue will dissolve on its own, like a bad smell, she engages again and again, unable to shake off her discomforting feeling that somehow she is to “blame.” Try distinguishing blame from owning, victim from being a player in her own destiny, try it. I have for twenty years and it isn’t easy. Best left to others I suppose.
The Antidote Is Humor: Last evening I told my husband that I was and am amazed that I didn’t develop a serious cancer or an auto immune disease over the many years of struggles such as these, when hours of paralysis and/or chaos descended upon our family, each day, with me typically alone at the helm, trying to preserve one precious child while the other, equally precious though not necessarily in that moment, unraveled before our eyes, taking down hours of happiness, peace or just mediocrity and replacing them with a sense of failure, incompetence and guilt. There is no answer to why I was lucky except perhaps the gift of humor, always my savior, always my life force, why I chose the husband I did, and why at the end of the day, with my body literally vibrating from tension, he would spin a phrase so apt and so funny that whatever the actual chemical antidote to disease, this for me certainly must be it.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
The Delights of Difference: 11-06-11
Pride To The Sky: Yesterday our son and his boyfriend joined day two of our daughter’s birthday celebration. The young men took the train from the city and we all drove to the Palace Theater in Waterbury, Connecticut to see In The Heights and catch up with their high school buddy who is in the orchestra playing bass in the Broadway show’s national tour. Prior to departing, a neighborhood acquaintance and electrician by trade stopped in to give us an estimate on work which included ordering and installing a generator to reduce the havoc of Mother Nature’s next visitation upon our home. This gentleman’s grown children went to school with our children years ago. I introduced him to our son and “his boyfriend.” I saw his eyes move between the handsome young men, taking in the meaning and adjusting his expectations. I felt proud. This is our son and his boyfriend, two of the finest young lads one can meet. This is our daughter, known to his wife who had subbed as her aide on occasion at the elementary school. These are our children and their friend and my pride in all of them reaches to the sky. Why?
Artful Hearts: I guess you had to be there. But I’ll do my best. Our son and his boyfriend visit our daughter’s apartment, love to hang out on the red couch, and in general exchange hilarious banter on a range of subjects. They are a big part of her life. Our daughter’s recent favorite topic is the love she witnesses between these two men. After the show we all went to dinner at one of those Asian fusion restaurants where sushi and sesame chicken happily coexist. While her father and I looked on, the three weaved together a tapestry of fondness that could hang on any museum wall. Our daughter, having purchased a drawing pad and some markers at a quick stop at the local Walgreens, began to draw a picture at the table. The finished work was of the two fellas’ heads, rather outsized to their small bodies, teeny hands and feet, wearing tee shirts each with the inscription “I love…” with the name of the other finishing the sentence. Our son’s boyfriend, an adept artist, responded with a drawing of our daughter next to her pooch Waggy with her froth of black waves surrounding a face punctuated by the requisite dangling pink tongue. The love was as thick as the peanut sauce smeared on the dumplings but with no artificial anything. Pure and plentiful.
Delightful Difference: We are a family of “difference.” These days I say to folks that my husband and I mixed quite a cocktail, one that made us join “clubs” in which we never thought to have a membership, walk through doorways and hallways that open only to the chosen few. But ultimately what a delight. The readjustments to the cards dealt have borne unexpected fruit. That of authenticity. Everyone is what he/she is. And each is accepted, celebrated and embraced with their intrinsic beauty, artful hearts, and unbridled empathy for others that “difference” often produces.
Growing Up Jewish: Growing up in the fifties and early sixties, raised on the tragedies of the Holocaust, imbued with the slogan “never again”, I figured that was the “difference” that marked my life. I never envisioned more down the pike. I’ve always liked being Jewish and now I can say that about my motherhood of difference. I like that too. Thanks, kids.
P.S. Please take a look at this link of an important article in today’s New York Times on state care. Check out the quote at the bottom of page 5.
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
We Are So “P” of You: 11-5-11
A Run Down On The Cats: During our ride back from the birthday dinner/shopping celebration last evening, our daughter described her work at The Complete Cat Clinic earlier that day. She spoke of Elwin Nelson, Mocha and Coco. Elwin Nelson is white with brown patches, a male and “adorable.” Coco is a cat whom our daughter helped to socialize and was boarding at the clinic. Staff informed our daughter that her work with Coco had made all the difference in the cat’s ability to become an acceptable member of the family household. Mocha, on the other hand, is a resident kitty with mood swings. “I stay away from her.” Smart Gal.
Animal Space: During the conversation, I mentioned to her apartment-mate, who is a fellow animal lover, and seated next to her in the car, that over the years our daughter had many pets: rats, guinea pigs, a hamster, a mouse and of course the requisite variety of fish: fighting, gold and angel. Even turtles, one of whom was named in honor of a very special friend, the other christened “Speedy” and you can guess why. I recall that one was purchased in Chinatown, and both were red sliders. They lived in our frog pond for a substantial period of time until either The Great Blue Heron or the neighborhood raccoon swooped in and flushed them out for an afternoon’s or late evening’s snack. The mention of turtles triggered an unfortunate memory for her mate, an episode with her brother, who was trying to redirect a snapping turtle back to the pond, getting his finger bitten and bloodied. “And I had to clean it.” “Well,” our daughter intoned, “You have to remember to give animals their space.” Who is this girl?
The P Word: For possibly as much as a decade or so, our daughter has begged us to eschew using the “P” word, as in “proud.” ”I am so proud of you” was anathema to her which left us scrambling for an acceptable synonym but alas never found. Instead, “I am so P of you.” was a clumsy second best, uttered with sincerity and an unavoidable dash of humor. Perhaps the “P” word for her signaled “pressure” rather than pleasure. But last night’s young lady, now twenty-two and nobody’s little girl, made me so “P” of her. And more importantly she is so “P” of herself. She is impacting the life of kitties, making them and their owners happier and becoming expert now on felines as well as canines, movie stars and WWII.
Taboo No More: And something else has changed. Lately when I allow myself to ignore the taboo, after all, she is a grown woman, and say “I am so proud of you.” she glows. And often her response is: “I am proud of myself too.”
Proud To Be Me: An accomplished young woman doesn’t have to be afraid of the “P” word. Proud is no longer taboo. I think it is the experience of knowing “I can do it” accrued over many years, with hard work, tremendous support from skilled educators, and many challenges overcome, that make P not a pressure but a pleasure. “Proud to be me.” Yippee!
©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011
