Category: Social Work

Music is the Sound of Life

How the art of music effects well being.

This was a topic suggested by a Coffee with Paula reader. When I read the suggestion I said to myself, “Oh heck yes, this will be an easy, smooth and enjoyable write as music is a huge part of who I am.” But as I sat to write, writer’s block seeped into the room and plopped itself directly onto my fingertips. What in the world, I asked. What, if any other topic, is more close to my heart than music? When I think of my sweet mama, I think of music. When I think of who she taught me to be, I think of music. When I think of church and worshiping my God, I think of music. Even when I think of work I think of music because I sometimes sing to my patients but always sing in the car as I drive between every patient’s house. So how in the world, with the topic of music, could I possibly have writer’s block? I decided to simply focus on the specific moments in my life where music has had a direct effect, where music has changed an attitude or transported to a different time or place. As soon as I coerced my mind to focus in that direction, the thoughts filled my mind to overflowing, just as excessive rain forces a river over its banks.

One workday I cruised the interstate toward a patient that faced end of life and a spouse who struggled to accept the pending loss. I felt melancholy as my thoughts focused on their situation; my desire to make things better for them was strong, but in vain. As a Social Worker, I have to be okay with the knowledge that I can not fix every situation. It’s a pillow I have had to learn to sleep well on…if I wanted rest. The wind rushed through the open window and tossed my salt-and-pepper locks to and fro while the sun beamed down onto my arm. As I steadily headed toward my visit, I cruised from lane to lane in traffic while the Jeff Healey Band “asked the stars above”. The uniquely delicious timbre of Jeff Healey as he sang about his lady’s Angel Eyes, magically transported me from a sad drive, back to a high school night where I was engulfed in an emerald green, poofy-sleeved, sequin-splashed prom dress that swayed with tuxedoed arms wrapped around that I would later marry. The music facilitated memories…the memories created emotion…these emotions created a fond smile…melancholy was removed.

One Sunday I swayed on the alto row, eyes focused on our director who was led to sing Amazing Grace this day during worship. With arms skilled in leadership, the chords on the piano were initiated, voices later cued and the age old story of Amazing Grace was shared. The mixture of melody and harmony created a steady stream of tears down my cheeks as memories flooded my soul of a sweet mama who, years ago, stroked the ivory with finesse in worship playing the same song, her favorite. The music instantly sent me back to the small chapel where I grew up; the faces of loved ones who surrounded the little piano flashed through my mind, faces who have gone on, just as my sweet mama. The music facilitated memories…the memories created emotion…these emotions created tears.

Sitting beside a patient who neared end of life and hadn’t eaten or spoken in weeks, I softly sang old hymns while I held her wrinkled worn hand to provide emotional support and comfort. I knew her story and that she was a dear old saint who had been a choir member for over 50 years at her little country church until frailness stopped her from climbing the few steps into the tiny choir loft. Family members saddened by her lack of response to I love you’s and can we get you anything’s were absolutely elated as her lips slowly began to move to the words of I’ll Fly Away. Very soft, a half-beat behind me, but every word mouthed while worship flowed upward from her soul to a God for which she had lived her whole entire life, and would soon meet face to face. The music facilitated memories…the memories created worship in its rawest, most simple form. Music.

One of the afternoons before or just after my sweet mama’s funeral, a dear Aunt brought cassette tapes that had been created by my grandmother years before, as in possibly 30 years prior to that day. Cassette tapes that held recordings of priceless moments of family gathered around the piano seated in my grandmother’s front living room. My younger, stronger mama stroked the ivories while belting out a splendid alto which mixed so perfectly with my Aunt’s impressive soprano. Aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins gathered around mama, varying voices intermittently louder than the rest within the audio, laughter between songs, laughter in the middle of verses with missed notes or wrong words. I could clearly see the vision created by this replay of family afternoons so many years ago. Precious time shared between family members who had a deep love for music; feelings created by music when shared with those you love. Music created a bond…music was the catalyst that pulled a family together into one accord…music was the glue that held those relaxing family Saturday afternoons together.

Music can transport us to long ago moments whose memories we cherish and wish for again. Music can bring us right to the feet of Jesus in worship. Music can heal a saddened spirit and provide light in the midst of darkness. Music can calm a troubled soul from the throes of anxiety. Music can incite clear thoughts to dementia patients for small periods of time. (If you don’t believe me, you should check out http://www.musicandmemory.org and look for Henry’s story. It will make you cry in amazement!)

Writing music and lyrics is a whole other blog entry; you can share your story of hardship, love, abuse, grief, trouble, excitement, money woes, unrequited love, good times, bad times, sober moments, drunk moments,…need I go on? Music is anything and everything that you need it to be.

Sipping coffee, humming Amazing Grace and hoping you can see how music effects more than well-being; it effects who we are and life in general. Thinking the next song on my play list might be Percy Sledge’s, When a Man Loves a Woman; might be some smoochin’ goin’ on later. Ha! What is music to you? ~paula

I Admit it. I’m a Pluviophile.

Are you satisfied now? I finally admitted I’m a pluviophile. I suppose all the years I commented negatively about rainy days, were the years prior to my epiphanous moment of “hey, I’m a writer”. I’ve observed that rainy days are my best days…the days I have the most creative thoughts…the days my fingertips are drawn intensely to the keyboard. And for a beach lover like me, non-rainy days are a must, or are they?

Collinsdictionary.com defines pluviophile as “a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days”. Yep. Sounds a lot like me.

Working as a Social Worker in Hospice and Home Health requires me immersed in the elements daily. Sunny days, rainy days, cloudy days, humid days, snowy days, hot days, cold days, just-right days. I’m one of the weirdos who gets much satisfaction from doing my job on rainy days. Why? I truly have no answer. It’s the weirdest thing.

What about rain gets the creativity flowing? I feel the same creative feelings when I’m at the beach. The roar of the waves and the roar of a heavy downpour absolutely irrevocably calms my soul and quietens my mind, making a clear path for good thoughts to take over and reign. Just the phrase roar of the waves or heavy downpour can jump start my mind to clarity. Maybe the recipe which creates a rainy day at the beach with a covered balcony on which to sit and observe is my absolute salvation, my holy grail, the utopia for my soul. That may have been a little too deep…it’s basically my happy place folks. Ha!

But I have gotten to a place in life where I want to truly know me. I want to know what makes me tick…what keeps my hamster wheel turning. Ha! I think that until a person truly knows themselves, they simply can not know true contentment. If you don’t understand you, how can you make decisions wisely and effectively of who you spend your time with and how or where you spend your time? You should spend some time with you this week! It’s your challenge, your homework if you will, from Coffee with Paula. You might be nicely surprised with who you find.

Sipping coffee this morning, wondering which Coffee with Paula fans are also pluviophiles and considering a move to Seattle…all while soaking in the sound of the rain. What have you learned about yourself lately? ~paula

I See You for what You are.

Dear Depression and Anxiety,

I truly despise you with every ounce of my being.

You steal joy and replace it with an empty, colorless void. You freely create disinterest where interest should be full. You cripple. You ostracize. You create a sense of hopelessness. You rob marriages of happiness. You steal parents from children. You make spouses lonely…even when they sit so close their hands are touching; lonely. You make co-workers see lazy when lazy is the farthest from the truth.

Most can’t see the two of you. Some see both of you; as vivid as if you were both entities of your own; living, breathing entities. Some see the symptoms you create but can only speculate as to the cause of those symptoms. Some see the absent friend, spouse or parent and assume they don’t care enough to show up to some special occasion or event. Because of you, negative thoughts and comments are exchanged such as “how could they miss this”. Even those that understand the why, can’t control the emotional response of anger and hurt from that missing family member or friend who just couldn’t make themselves leave the house that day…because of the two of you!

Depression and Anxiety, you are both truly disgusting and because of you, moments of intimacy for couples can be so few and far between they wonder if they ever had a sex life or what it would be like to actually have one again? Because of you, friendships are ruined by unanswered calls/texts and countless declined offers for lunches, movies, bowling, fishing, shopping. Because of you, jobs are lost when absences outweigh days present.

Depression, how revolting you are to me…you can make a person that is so full of love, willing to do some of the most seemingly selfish things…miss important events, leave bills for a spouse to deal with, not answer a call/text on purpose, not plan a spouse’s 40th birthday, miss family trips, leave children wondering why you missed their track meet, stop dying patients from spending precious time with family, stop adult children from attending their parent’s retirement dinner, make a spouse drink so many beers before bed on an anniversary night that they fall asleep in the recliner before any intimacy was shared. You’ve even made a parent miss their child’s baptism.

Anxiety, how revolting you are to me as well…you can make a person that is so full of love be grouchy and cranky and snippy toward the ones they love because you make them so worried about being worried that they are distracted with figuring out what the worry is, making them easily annoyed when approached with even the simplest of topics…because it adds more for them to think about. You also rob of restful sleep that could help them deal with you more effectively. Very low blow anxiety, very low blow. You sir, are no gentleman!

Just so you know, not that either of you care, but it must be said…Being married to a person with depression and anxiety can be the loneliest place in the universe. On the flip side of that, being married to a person who doesn’t have depression and anxiety, while you do, can also be the loneliest place in the universe.

Depression and Anxiety, you remind me of Satan. You sound like the biblical description of Satan. Let that sink in. You fit the Bible’s description of Satan. 1 Peter 5:8-9 …”the devil walks around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour”. John 10:10…”the thief comes only to steal, to kill and to destroy”. Depression and Anxiety, you both walk around like roaring lions, seeking whom you may devour; you come to steal, kill and destroy…but I want you to know that I am on to your ways. I see you for what you are.

I attribute the growing suicide rate to you both! I firmly believe you are the demons who whisper to your victims that suicide is the only way to freedom and true peace. You lure your unsuspecting victims toward you with a siren’s song of peace and tranquility; straight into the clutches of your death talons! I see you for what you are.

What a loathsome duet you both create!

As a Social Worker, I’ve heard countless tales of your effects; day in and day out; countless tales. As a Social Worker, I feel helpless at times as the tricks of the trade I teach are only minimally effective. The medicines prescribed are also only minimally effective and come with side effects that are often more distressing than just dealing with the original problem; you two! I see you for what you are.

As of right now, Depression and Anxiety, you are winning the battle but you will not win the war! This letter needed to be written so as to leave no room for doubt as to my loathing your existence, as do countless others. I pray daily that the two of you go back to the depths of hell from whence you came…and one day you will. I see you for what you are.

Angry inside for the millions effected directly and indirectly; sipping coffee like Kermit, but mad. ~paula

They will Never Forget

Branch Ed, short for Branch Education, is provided monthly at my place of employment. We sit through anywhere from one to two hours of necessary information that must be conveyed for us to continue doing what we do. (Effective and efficient is the name of the healthcare game.) A portion of this education can involve being given audit scores so that we have an idea where we rank against our previous scores as well as against other home health and hospice agencies; super important in the health care world. But for one specific meeting, my former Branch Director began stating that we have the best Social Worker in the entire company and we don’t know what we would do without her, her documentation is relevant and she always strives to do the best for our patients. Now, understand, I’m the only social worker in the building and I’m still sitting there wondering who she’s talking about. She can’t be talking about me, I was currently like fifteen charts behind on documentation (not really) but struggling to maintain my head above water. Once I realized that it was for certain me that she was talking about, the room erupted into applause as my cheeks warmed to a rosy blush and tears formed in my eyes. That room was giving me support and love and applause. And honestly, I would do anything for them as do I for our patients. But in that specific moment in time, all I could think was that I want to do my best for these people, my work family, my friends, my partners in crime. All I could think about was “what areas could I improve so that I will never let these people down”? Funny. I actually wanted to seek out my own flaws and fix them!

This made me start thinking. Let’s scroll back a few years to a previous employer. I never heard from my supervisor unless something was a mess. Never a word of thanks on a job well done, never a kind word when days were tough, never a feeling of “belonging” or of being valued as a team member. Let one audit score be slightly lower than a previous month and a meeting with the supervisor and their supervisor was conducted wanting to know what was the plan put in place as to improving said score. No discussion of the previous day staying with a family for four hours while they coped with the pending loss of their mom, teaching them how to comfort and show support to a mama that had loved and care for them their whole life, teaching them to say goodbye in an appropriate manner. No discussion of the hard work put into a recent abuse and neglect case where DHR was involved; where myself and the DHR case worker were in court by that afternoon due to some fancy footwork to insure our patient was removed and placed into a safe environment. Nothing but grief over the lowered audit scores. After leaving that employer for greener pastures I did some soul searching. What made me leave? The exhausting business of constant self validation. I constantly had to defend my actions, my documentation, my skills. I was constantly on the defensive defending my every move. Never once did I say to myself what are my flaws and how can I make them better? I never actually wanted to do better for them. I was too busy being on the defensive about what I thought was right.

What is the difference in these two scenarios? I’m human, so in both situations, there were certainly things that needed fixing on my end. But the difference was how I viewed myself in either situation. I was made to want to do better by a Branch Director who knew to provide encouragement.

While researching this particular topic, I came upon an article by Vicki Hoefle, The Difference Between Praise and Encouragement. Vicki Hoefle is a parent educator, author, speaker and coach and when I read her article…on went the light bulb! Such wonderful information and so spot on. She explains that “praise focuses on perfection rather than progress and improvement; a right or wrong outcome rather than a meaningful experience; good or bad decisions rather than the decision-making process; pride or disappointment rather than acceptance and support.” Man, did I say this was spot on?

How does this relate to us in our everyday life? Well, relationships in parenting and coaching and supervising and spouses and friends and the guy at the “parts house” (as my husband calls it)…should I go on? How we talk to and approach every single person in this life matters. It brings to mind the phrase “fair weather friend”. As long as things are going well, those fair weather friends or parents or coaches or spouses or supervisors are, as my sweet Mom would have said, “hunky dory”; but, when things are more difficult, when there’s not a word of praise that can be uttered because there is no perfection to be found…then what? Then what.

“They may not remember what you said – but they will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Carl W. Buehner

Man, that was a refreshing cup today! ~paula

I also believe…

If I’ve ever published an entry and immediately knew I had more to say, it was this time! Feel free to comment. I LOVE a good debate! If you agree or disagree, I would love to hear!

I also believe…

…there’s nothing more cleansing than an ugly, snot bubble cry or a fat roll jiggling, belly laugh with tears included.

…grief has it’s own timeline that you don’t get to dictate.

…the happiest sad moment of your life is when your baby is grown, lands their first “real” job and you realize they really are moving out.

…it’s okay to walk away from your cell phone on your personal time for as long as you want; they are not mandatory.

…you can say “no” without guilt when your sanity is in question.

…visiting with an elderly person is the most fulfilling history lesson you will ever receive.

…the low carb and Keto diets are my only ways to eat AND stick with a diet. Yum!

…that as you sing in the choir, your face should not look pained.

…that if you’re a Social Worker, you are destined to have some crude, rude, tasteless humor floating around in your brain. Know your audience before sharing!

…not everyone uses the talent they were given.

…a hot fudge Sunday can be supper every now and then.

…just because you’re attracted to someone doesn’t mean they’re your soulmate, it might just mean you’re attracted to them.

…if you can tell your social worker what the programs are, you can apply for them yourself. I’m here to empower, not give handouts.

…if you’ve never had a full body massage, goodness, get one scheduled!

…if you’ve never sent your spouse a risqué text you might be boring.

…you should mix mayonnaise and ketchup together for a splendid dipping sauce for your French Fries.

…if you don’t have sauce all over your mouth and fingers, your wings aren’t as good as mine.

…you need to have that one thing you do every week with your spouse, of which you allow nothing to get in the way.

…you have to have a sense of humor in this life or you’re gonna go crazy!

There may be more later, but for now I think we’re out of coffee. Thank you so very much for joining me around the coffee pot. ~paula

I ❤️ Social Work

Make a difference…I suppose that is the biggest reason I chose Social Work as a career path. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to know that when it’s time for my huge Retirement shindig, the folks that get up and do the talking have worthwhile tidbits to say. (Disclaimer to those that need to know: when I say huge Retirement shindig, I mean it better be a BLOW OUT, the party of the YEAR, an affair to which others compare their affairs for years to come! Ha!) But I wanted to know that the days I spend stressed and tired and squirming because I haven’t been able to find a clean bathroom all day would be worth it. At the end of each day, I want to be able to say, “damn girl, you rock, you still got it”. Do I do that everyday? Heck no! But on occasion, there are those opportunities to feel good about something I accomplished. With all of that chatter about how I want to make a difference in this world, I’d be remiss if I didn’t address how all this “making a difference” business effects my family. Am I really making a difference if my family suffers in the long run?

I missed my kiddo’s sporting event today because I got a call that I needed to add one more patient to my schedule because the spouse was put into the hospital unexpectedly, the patient is chair bound, unable to take care of personal needs alone and has been home alone for a few days now. Yikes!

I was so torn. My social-worker-heart-strings were being tugged…but my poor kiddo. If I left work that second I could get to that game perfectly on time; if I went on that extra visit, I would get home late and miss my kiddo. I say I was torn; the “torn” only lasted approximately a nano-second. My immediate answer to my clinical manager, “send me the information as soon as you can so I can get en route”. I let said kiddo know that mama wouldn’t get home in time to get to the game, that I was sorry and that I hate to miss it but I had to take care of my patient. Are you wondering the response? “Love you too and it’s okay”.

After all was taken care of; visit made, family rallied, physician phoned, clinical managers notified, me seatbelted snuggly back into the car to head to yet another patient (they were so close to the area I just couldn’t pass them by when I was going to already miss the kiddo anyway); I had an epiphany. I have poured enough love and time and interest into my wonderful kiddos that one missed event wasn’t going to squash any little hearts.

You just have to pray that you’ve invested enough time in your spouse and children’s lives for their whole hearts to KNOW that you love them more than anything else in the world; to hopefully make it okay that sometimes, as a Social Worker, there may be someone who needs you more than they do in that one specific moment in time.

Am I sad that I missed my kiddos sporting event? Yes, of course. But do I regret missing that sporting event to help that kind soul that needed someone to intervene and show compassion? Not one ounce. Did I make a difference in that life? Yes, I absolutely did.

That simple reply, “Love you too and it’s okay”, made me smile. That simple reply let me know I may be doing something right. Maybe I’m making a difference in both worlds.

Is Social Work easy? Most certainly not. Is Social Work rewarding? Most days. Do I make a difference in the lives of my patients? Some days. Can I picture myself doing anything else? Heck no…unless they could pay me well enough to be a Walmart greeter…I could totally rock that job…as long as I didn’t have to go smile and make nice before I had my coffee. Ha!

I think I may ponder that greeter position until we meet over coffee again. ~paula

Watch your Mouth Young Lady!

Early in my Social Work career, I had a close friend who was a fellow Social Worker. Incase you didn’t know it, us Social Workers tend to stick together. There are not too many that can understand our rude and crude senses of humor; therefore, it takes one to know one. Get it? But back to the topic. Over lunch one day, we were joking and trying to blow off steam from a particularly demanding case load and I remember chuckling through this comment, “When I grow up, I want to have the ability to tell someone to go straight to hell in such a manner that they actually look forward to the trip”. We laughed at that for months to come. And 10+ years later, I still think of it with a fond smile as well as of that dear friend who has since gone on to be with the Lord.

Within my 18 year career as a Social Worker, I have pretty much perfected the ability to discuss topics with families and patients in such a manner that they understand that my heart has their best interest in mind even when I speak words they do not want to hear. No, your precious Mom will most likely not make it through the weekend. Yes, your courageous father who fought in WWII must now have 24 hour caregivers to help with toileting and making certain his meds are given appropriately. Yes, I will be making a DHR report today because I am concerned that you are neglecting the needs of your Uncle who has entrusted you with his care. Yes, my nurse is going to have to begin counting out your narcotics upon each visit as we are concerned that meds are being taken inappropriately. Yes, you must provide a clean workspace for our nurse to provide wound care in an effective, sanitary manner; no dog feces can be visible in said workspace. Yes, I’d like to discuss funeral arrangements with you today, have you thought of where you’d like to be buried or who you might want to conduct your service. I have literally conducted hundreds of conversations where I’ve addressed these specific issues and countless other topics equally difficult. The topics are ever changing. My goal; however, does not. My goals are for these families to feel my compassion, grasp my stern resolve that the issue must be addressed no matter how uncomfortable it must feel and for them to finally feel a compelling pull toward finding a resolution or understanding that meets the needs of all that are involved.

While driving in to work this morning, I was mulling over some of the cases that I would be seeing for the day, preparing my mind for whatever my to-do list put in my path and I had an epiphany while considering a particularly difficult patient. Girl, you finally lived up to your long years ago dream. Now, granted, I don’t find myself telling my patients or families to go straight to hell, though there have been a few that perfectly tried my patience on just the right day and beer and cigarettes were written IN BOLD on my “after 5p” to-do list. But, I have the ability to speak to others in a manner in which I would like to be spoken. I have the ability to convey my thoughts and expertise and experiences and knowledge to these families in a manner in which they can understand so as to make their own decision. I say hard things, but always in the appropriate tone.

So, yes, I confess that there are times when working particularly difficult cases, and wonderful resolutions are implemented, that I may sit back and pat myself on the back briefly. Not long enough to get the “big head” but just long enough to keep up morale. (Ha!) Those are the times when I sort of think to myself, yep girl, you got it.

If my sweet Mama were here to read this, she would definitely have already said, “Watch your mouth young lady”. But then she’d remember where I get my sometimes less than lady-like mouth, and that is my Father who she dearly loved. So, all would have been well…until the next time I spouted something off without thinking.

I’ve enjoyed sharing a cup of coffee with you. I’ll let you know when another fresh pot is ready. ~paula