.....so good to me! Shades of The Mamas and the Papas. Now all I've gotta do is hope that it doesn't end up being one of those days I can't trust. *chuckle*
Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.
My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.
My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Contrary to Appearances
I have not died nor abandoned this lonely blog. Instead, I've been slogging through a slump, tired of being 'snakebit' on the repair situation, tired of rain, tired of feeling uncreative, tired of looking for solutions to problems, tired of being tired (ok - enough whining - it didn't really help. *chuckle*).
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
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