Showing posts with label positive reinforcement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label positive reinforcement. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Seize the day

You don’t have a life. You are life.

Eckhart Tolle

For inspiration in the early morning I often turn to http://thelazyyogi.com/. I have no doubt that this man has lived other lives and seen much more than you and I have seen. He isn't 30 yet and he has the wisdom of a very old man.

Eckhard Tolle. Well, I'm a huge fan. Of course, he is quite right. So many people, so many relationships that come in all shapes and sizes, and together we make up the fabric of life on this day, in this world. We are life.

Of course, the closest relationship we have to anyone is the relationship we have with ourselves. It's that simple. A voice runs inside our head almost non-stop and only we can share a kind relationship with our inner self.

I'm not at all sure that life just happens. I think we provide the impetus for a good day. As you'd know by now I enjoy having expectations, a cheer leader, someone to whom I must report, if you will. But, I can report to myself, too. I can elect to make this a happy day. I can elect to get out there for part of the day, to boost the exercise today; to make it a productive writing day. These are my decisions and in large part based on that inner voice inside my head telling me that this day is not to be wasted.

A little secret: Today's the day, some 20+ years ago that my daughter came into the world. I'd been to the doctor about this time of the morning and she'd said that they couldn't wait any longer. An inducement was booked for the next day. Well, I wasn't having any of that, and so I went home and laid down after lunch. I decided to touch myself to see if anything would happen. A contraction happened immediately and then in short order, another contraction. I held on for as long as I could, to make sure it was the real deal. Then, I called my husband who raced home and drove me to the doctor. I was in labour for about an hour and out she came.

What celebration! What joy! We had a little baby girl!

My darling girl: a sweetheart. Loving, kind, caring, hugely creative, competent...yet still unsure of her talents...just beginning to feel confident enough in her own skin to paint what and how she wants to paint...still struggling a little with confidence around more assertive associates, but starting to understand her own personal power to effect positive change in her own way.

My goodness, I've been lucky to have her in my life. Life is good.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Profile of Lily: a masochist

I was walking my puppies at the park when a girl I shall call Lily engaged me in conversation. At first it was all about the dogs and we chatted amiably, but she flitted from one subject to another and dispersed into the conversation enough of her opinions for me to know from the outset that she had some eccentricity or other. I don’t always enjoy eccentricity in conversations with strangers any more than I enjoy receiving phone calls from strangers trying to tell me that I am the winner of a holiday package, but I felt not the least unease as I spoke to her. Rather than making excuses that I needed to get moving, I found her rather fascinating and was keen to know more about her.

She moved through a variety of topics and her own personal life story at enormous speed and in the course of thirty minutes I knew a great deal about her. Her father was an alcoholic who drank himself to death. Although she didn’t say so specifically, he must have been a mean drunk because apparently he told her constantly that he hated her. She had wanted to be an actress but she thought that perhaps she lacked the confidence to follow through with that desire due to the messages she received as a girl. It was the one and only time during our conversation that she expressed any regret or self-pity, or any sense at all that she was looking backwards and not forwards.

There was considerable mental illness on one side with her grandparents. One grandfather tried to take his life many times and her sister tried to take her life nine times, although she is relatively stable now “compared to what she was”. She feels fortunate to have the genes of the other grandparents who were creative and resilient. To generalize, she said that her family was quite “mad”. It was not a complaint. It was a statement of fact.

She told me that she had been an art and drama teacher but that state government policies had closed down half the art, drama and media courses in public schools at the time of her graduation (she is right) and that most of her contemporaries never worked in the profession for which they had been trained. She did procure a job at a local secondary school but the Principal and Vice Principal had been having an affair for years, the school was in chaos and the “bastard” made sure that she didn’t get her job back in the new academic year. (New teachers are often employed here year by year, with no certainty of what the next academic year will bring.)

She’s done other jobs, not focussing at all on money but rather looking for “experiences”. She worked in a prison for a time conducting an art and drama course for the inmates and she started up an after school care program at a school where those children could be involved in art and drama at least in an after school capacity. I suspect that she has considerable creative talent and great flair when working with other people, especially children but that her difficulties with order and with keeping up with the paperwork required for such jobs meant that people could feel she was not performing as required. Although she was wholly responsible for the only dog that she was walking for payment, she rarely checked to see that he was still there. To be fair, the dog chose to be by her side the vast majority of the time.

From what I could make of it, right now she is just walking the dogs for her income although she may sell some paintings. She referred to herself as both a writer and an artist. There was no question she was very articulate and well read, with a strong interest in film (her major), although she had no interest in print or television media whatsoever seeing it as mere manipulation, untruthful and unworthy of her time.

Most of all, Lily likes to move, to walk, to be outside and to engage in conversation with others. She said that she could tell right away that I wasn’t put off by anything she had to say and this prompted her to go on. She said that was rather unusual. She loved going back to study as a mature age student although she admits she “starved” to do so and her family were completely unsupportive of this initiative.

She was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) at the age of 44 but I strongly suspect she means ADHD since she has clearly been very hyperactive. She seems less the kind of person that would get lost day dreaming in a classroom as she would be in trouble for expressing herself inappropriately. In fact, she said social situations have been difficult since she would interrupt people when they were speaking and not realize that it really bothered them.

Lily has been all over the city looking for help for many years. She said that even psychiatrists at the top of their profession had been unable to help her until one day she looked up the yellow pages phone book and decided to make an appointment at the medical centre where I happen to go. In fact, she found herself sitting in front of my doctor. She couldn’t remember his surname at the time but she knew his Christian name and I volunteered his surname. She was gobsmacked that we should share the same doctor but as soon as she had began to speak of what a wonderful doctor she now had and how he had saved her life, I knew of whom she spoke.

Chris is a man who has made it his business to understand various neurological conditions, most especially ADD/ADHD and somehow or others the gods have sent many troubled people his way to be helped. We have spoken of it often for various reasons not to mention that there have been incidences where we needed to stop what we were doing whilst he took a call from some institution that was holding a patient of his who had asked them to ring him. He would politely tell the caller he had made great strides with the person they were holding, to please advise him when his patient was to be released and to tell him or her to come and see him then; that together they would sort it out.

Chris sent Lily off to a psychiatrist and had her assessed so that he could prescribe suitable medication, gave her the titles of books to read, the names of people who could assist her with setting up positive thinking modes and order in her life. They get together to review regularly. She told me that a great many things had fallen into place in her life. She now realized why she had behaved as she had all her life and she was able to articulate her personal characteristics with great clarity. She said that ADD people are not just anxious at times of great stress, but they are anxious a good deal of the time. Whereas most people walk into a room and wonder for what purpose they did so every now and again, this kind of distractive behaviour occurs to her all the time.

Being a girl with ADD was especially difficult she thought, because she can’t do what girls are expected to do: to keep the house neat and tidy. ADD people can’t stand to be bored, requiring constant stimulation of their frontal lobes to feel good and so doing things that are boring to them is like water torture. They hypo focus, she said, and so become immersed in projects wanting to know everything about a subject of interest. Often, what needed to get done was put aside for other pursuits that were more compelling.

She felt proud of herself that she hadn’t given up and had the tenacity and the resilience to go on. In fact, she clearly loved life, lived alone in an apartment that was expensive for her but she was paying her way , rode her bike everywhere, loved animals and nature and most of all, she loved talking to people. She talked in detail about internal pain and how people can feel desperate to do anything to stop the pain; that her sister discovered the strategy of self-harm to avoid pain by chance. A mirror broke and shattered and she discovered that a shard of glass that cut her skin had helped. However, she expressed disdain for people who took their life if it involved other people. If they wanted to take their lives that was all right but if they decided to jump in front of a train and destroy the life of a train driver who got to relive the images all his days, then that was very wrong.

She offered all this information very freely. There was no need for me to tell her anything about myself at all and since I remained interested in what she had to say, I only needed to agree, to nod, to express interest or to ask for clarification and that kept the conversation moving on. There came a moment when she wanted to tell me something that she considered “private” and her pace slowed somewhat and her voice dropped.

“This is rather private, but, you know, my father was a sadist and perhaps because of that and the way he treated me, I am attracted to sadists. I identify as a masochist.”

I gave nothing away. I merely nodded in acknowledgment. Eventually, we began to walk and talk on our way out of the park with the dogs and she asked me what star sign I was and I told her that I was a Scorpio. She felt sure that I was, she told me and she proceeded to tell me all about myself. I don’t give hardly anything away on the surface but underneath I feel very deeply and have great empathy for people. I am very curious. I care a lot about people.

“I’m Lilly, by the way.”

“Vesta.”

“Well, it has been wonderful talking to you, Vesta. I am so happy to meet you.”

“It has been wonderful to meet you too Lily. Do you come to this park regularly?”

“Nearly every day.”

“Then, we shall see one again.”

We said our goodbyes and my head was full of what this amazing woman could achieve if we could only get it (and her) organized. We had spoken of the need for educators to understand conditions such as ADD so that students could be better cared for and have better outcomes and I suggested that she would be an ideal person to talk to groups of students about her life and what had helped her. She agreed she would love to do that and had considered it, but of course whether the education department would fund it so that she had an income from the work is another matter.

Lily is articulate, engaging, bright and well versed in conditions that have made life a challenge for her and her family. It is the sort of story that could turn life around for many students who would connect with what she had to say in ways particular to them.

When I told my husband about her my main concern was that she was so vulnerable to sadists who would simply use her and spit her out for her submissive state of mind and I admit I have a desire to shelter her from harm. In the hands of a caring, attentive and loving sadist, I really think she could shine.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Pride

It had been a difficult week. She was anxious to return to a positive state of mind. She thought back over the past for a memory that might provide her with sustenance. Nothing came.

There must have been something...something positive about even this week...something.

And, then she remembered his comment and the memory of it gave her a warm glow.For one, brief shining moment, she had done something right. She searched again for the exact words he had used and they returned to her. She rolled them around in her head until they sat comfortably in a resting place and warmed the cockles of her heart.

“I’m very proud of your persistence and motivation to pursue training.”

Yes, that is what he had said. She smiled her first genuine smile for the day. She was lucky to have met him. She wanted him to know that. She sat down to write.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Little Boys

Maurice Chevalier sang, “Thank heaven for little girls, for little girls get bigger every day.” I think those are the correct words to the song, anyway. But, this morning I found myself thinking, “Thank heaven for little boys.”

I have a young man staying with me at the moment. He is a special young man, with a commitment to his talent that he hopes to see through to a dazzling career on the most renowned stages of the world. He was selected at a very tender age to be trained, and I find it quite awe inspiring. He gets up early without being called; he goes to bed in good time to get up early. He keeps careful track of the time, keeping me on track to get him where he needs to be. He has very long hours of rehearsal and performances, but you can see that he lives for the performance. I went to see him perform and he was very anxious to know what I thought. He takes a quiet pride in people’s pleasure gained from what he does. I can’t say how his love life will be in a few years, but I think he’ll be fine. Certainly, he can chat happily with my daughter and they clearly enjoy one another’s company, in spite of language issues.

This morning, I asked if I he had any clothes he would like me to wash and he said he would leave them on the bed. As I whisked by his room, I remembered the clothes and scooped them up. As I was leaving the room, I noticed that there was a little bear on his pillow. My heart melted. Not quite a man yet, he still cuddled his bear and travelled with it. How utterly adorable!

I am not sure why exactly, pure serendipity probably, but my children are all soft hearted. Not one of them would hurt a fly. They will stand up for themselves if they need to, and they have needed to at times, but their hearts are soft as butter. My youngest still carries around his special soft object, and my husband will sometimes say that it is time he gave it up. But, the time will come soon enough.

Little boys need so much love and care. Soon enough they grow to be big, strong men with loads of responsibilities, and the tables often turn. They are responsible for their girlfriends and wives, and their children eventually, perhaps. To become those big, strong capable men, they need a mother who loved them and supported them through thick and thin. My eldest son said to me once that I reminded him of a lioness. Try hurting one of her cubs and she’ll go from being passive to a hunter in one stride. Yes, that’s me.

Once upon a time, my husband was a little boy who had his special bear. Now, I suppose I am his ‘little bear’. He cuddles in with me. His mother, I’m told, was a very gentle, caring woman who lived for her family. That makes sense. It just seems to me that if you give the love in spades when they are young, support them, encourage them, and praise their best efforts, they are in good shape to give their love in turn to the little girls growing up that Chevalier was referring to.

In a D/s relationship, disobedience is punished. And, I’m not arguing with that. Not today, anyway. But, positive reinforcement is very important, I think. Imagine the child who rushes home with an excellent report, and the parent did not bother to sing the child’s praise. What message is that child being given? The submissive woman wants to make her dominant happy and she wants to hear that he is happy with her. She wants to know that she is loved. In the end, it is all about love.