Blind ideals

Unfortunately, I have had a decent amount of inability to focus on any one thing lately. I feel like I've been fighting myself to forge through the days. 


However, though today I had a day off from the nursing home, I did see two of my most challenging clients in my private practice work. One of the clients is very lively, very young, and has a diagnosis with which I have had very limited experience. Both clients are still new to me, and I have had my "usual" (if ever there is such a thing when I am still in the beginning stages of my practice) three-session assessment process with only one of these two. I spent most of the day considering different approaches to treatment and different experiences to use, only to truly stress myself in the end. I am happy to report that, even though I tended to, let's say, agitate my day with second- and third-guessing myself, I found that, once again, what was most important in both of my sessions was that I listen to my clients and assess their energies, and to keep the goals and objectives in my head. I've been finding that I am pretty decent with improvisation, which is important in this work as the planning is important, but it's such a blind ideal-- only when I am in my clients' presence am I really able to plan the session.

Perfection

I love how my need for believed perfection paralyzes me from remembering things I've learned well in the past. Tonight I had my first true assessment session with a child with developmental disability, and going into it, I was horrified that I had no idea how to assess this client, nor what experiences to use with the client. Then, my client's mother mentioned something that triggered my thinking of targeting impulse control, and with that, I remembered a flood of experiences I'd used before. Now, I feel much more at ease, and look forward to creating a treatment plan for this client. 


All I needed to do was listen. 

Putting on a show

Hmmm... I have reason to believe my guitar could be damaged soon. There is no doubt I need a better guitar, but I wasn't planning or budgeting for that in the next week. I do need more instruments. Hmmm...


Today I facilitated the very first performance of any kind, ever, in my life. Family members and friends were there, there was a reception following, and I even took time during the performance to educate the audience members on tone chimes. The whole day was pretty stressful, but everyone seemed very pleased and thankful. I wonder how to better facilitate the next performance.

She speaks in numbers

Every Thursday, I facilitate small group sessions with residents who are in the TCU. I have had a number of good sessions there, but today I had a favorite. On that unit lives a woman who speaks in numbers, but she does it so well and with such effective inflection that I can usually understand what she means (not, of course, exactly what words she is intending to use). Today she sang with me, whole songs, lyrics and words aplenty. I love that.

I also had opportunity to co-facilitate a session today, on the palliative care unit. I found that to be really beneficial. I was targeting an improvement in gross motor function, and there are only so many hands I have. With two of us, much more was accomplished. I also love that.

New book

As found on Twitter, AMTAInc. is selling a newly-released book, Music Therapy and Geriatric Populations.


Oh, if only I had the energy and desire to read work-related books when I'm not working. Maybe in time I will have that energy reserve that I think I'll need for that. Anyone buy the book? 

Outfit

A favorite realization: When I see a resident wearing a sweater that I know I own. And the sweater is brown. Coupled with some nice Velcro shoes, and I'm set.

Nickel Creek gave me a present

Recently, I have moved, and my mom has begun allowing me to repossess a number of my old belongings that she no longer wishes to store at their house (politely insisting I take back my crap). Last night, Thomas and I went through one of the giant plastic bins The Mother had had. In it, I found an AHSSA (American High School Speech Association) travel mug (I think I got it at one of the All-state competitions [notice I said "one of"]), a weird collection of Stanley Kubric DVDs that I think were pawned off on me by a friend in college, some pictures of babies in my family (back when they were babies), a couple of opera scores, and a lone Nickel Creek CD. Of course I love the pictures of the babies. But I remember that CD with very specific clarity. I especially like "Tomorrow is a Long Time" (though with that clarity I do not recall why I like it so much). I love how music can do that. This, I know, is not a discovery, because part of the reason any music therapist practices music therapy is for the realization of that phenomenon. 


I love that I found that CD. I feel like I was given a present. By myself. Because I forgot where I'd put it. Since I'm unorganized and lazy and moved so many times that I soon  entirely abandoned any effective means of tracking where and what I'd packed.


So it was sort of like opening a present.