Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

[fredericks]

In all the paperwork Samaritans sent my way they emphasized how rigorous the training was. How intense it all would be. I took it for granted. Whoo, not anymore. Today was the first day of class. It was eight hours of basically being told that I knew jack shit about communicating with people. Alan (or, rather, Alan86 - in Samaritans you get called by your first name and by the volunteer number you ended up), the current program director and the man leading our training, called it boot camp in that we would be stripped and then built back up, removed from humanity and then made to operate like a team. I agree with that, but I also call it very very painful. Much of what we conversed about was common sense, but for me it's stuff that I never thought intensely about. I know when I'm depressed or upset ("in crisis", they say) I despise when people give me pearls of wisdom like "it'll all work out" or "it'll get better, don't worry", or when they ask "well, what can you do about it" (because if I knew what I could do about it I'd have damn well done it by now) or (biggest peeve ever) they give examples/advice based on what *they* did in the same situation (because no situation is *ever* the same; we're all different people, with different histories and different approaches). Well, why do I try to "help" people that are in crisis by doing exactly what I despise? Why do I dole out advice like I'm perfect? Why do I give blithe answers like that'll solve everything? All day tackling tough questions like that.

One bit that sort of irritated me...well, I think irritated is the wrong word, mainly because I can't think of the right word (per usual). Alan gave us an exercise where we were supposed to empty our minds of all thoughts and words for fifteen seconds. When that time was up he sort of smiled and said "You couldn't do it, could you?" to the class. See, that there was a close-ended question, a question that assumed a "no, we couldn't answer". The type of question that he'd spent the last three hours verbally lashing out of our systems (did I mention how painful this all was?). But I was able to do the mental silencing easily (and thus I assumed some of my training mates did it as well) because that's how I operate. I have no internal dialogue. I shut it all out, I shut it all down. That's how I've learned to cope with life. It's unhealthy and, when I find the energy to think about it, somewhat frightening, but it's how I've been since I can remember. When I have voices in my head I literally have voices in my head. That's when I know that shit is seriously fucked up. That's a bit of personal insight there. See? I'm sharing.

I think I've found a church that'll work for me. At least for tomorrow. I intend to trudge to St. John the Divine in Riverdale bright and early. Mass is at 11, and seeing as I have to open up Le Shack at 11 I can't make that one. But they do have Prayers and Eucharist at 8AM, meaning that I'm going to have to leave the house at 6 in the friggin morning, but I think it'll definitely be worth it. Look, Ma, I'm goin' Episcopalian!

Ugh, I need to go to sleep. Goddamned boot camp.

Comments

Yeah,

[kommisar.livejournal.com]

but at least they don't make you sleep and shower with forty other people....

The Japanese have a particularly good word to use when you are struggling with something (running a race, studying for a test, anything that requires effort on your part): Ganbaru. Loosely translated, it means FIGHT.

Ganbatte! I say to you now.

And in reply you say, Ganbarimasu. (I will fight).

There's nothing that quite parallels it in English in the same spirit.

And I can clear my mind too. Did a whole bunch of times last night.

Helping others

[aniseastra.livejournal.com]

I think that I understand what you're saying about helping other people when they're "in crisis"...I have a really hard time when I'm trying to help someone like this. I know what I shouldn't say, due to the wonderful sayings that you mentioned, but I can't think of anything that I think that I should say. Everything that I can think of seems shallow, inane, and hollow. I really wish that I was better at helping people out during bad times...

Re: Helping others

[fredericks.livejournal.com]

It's just uncanny how it usually ends up happening that way. We're moved by this need to "fix things", to make everything all better, that if we're confronted by something that isn't an easy fix we get uncomfortable or frustrate and shy away. Alan made what I thought to be an excellent analogy about us as humans and our perceived stability and happiness: we're all walking a mental tight rope, and when things are good (or tolerable) it just means that we've avoided looking down and seeing how damned high up and in danger we are. Being around people that are distressed in some intangible way causes those downward glances that make *us* uncomfortable. And so it's easier to try the trite fix and then move on, whether that's a conscious or unconscious reaction on our part. I do think that's a somewhat harsh and cynical assessment of it all (fitting in very well with his "tough love" approach), but it seems to make sense.

During our first group role-play of a call into the hotline (Samaritans is billed as a suicide prevention center), it was embarrassing how quickly the class turned the focus of the call from the depressed and suicidal caller's emotional state to his external environmental influences. It's just easier to do that when you have someone that's unresponsive and despondent. Easier on you as an empathizing listener and easier on you as in individual trying to maintain some semblance of conversation.

It's like it takes an enlightened mind to be able to connect what looks like, on the surface, to be common knowledge about human nature.