Approximate reading time 20min

So, it has been a pretty eventful week to say the least. Can I please start with

…..wait for it….

I have five dates planned over the next couple of weeks.

Yes, that would be five dates with ACTUAL REAL-life men.

It’s a bloody fucking miracle.

I was trying to count how many dates I have gone on in my 15 years of online dating, and I sincerely doubt it’s been more than 30….(if that?) so on average, that’s two dates a year.

Of course, it’s totally my own fault.

I have wasted days, weeks, months building up fake pseudo relationships with useless, scaredy-arsed men who never had any intention of actually meeting up in person

So that’s on me.

But now…it appears that the tide is turning:-)

Breeze date #3 is tomorrow night – I shall keep you posted:-)

I have to say, I am an anti-ad girl.

I 100% refuse to EVER put any ads on my blog

(Which is the No. 1 reason I will probably never make any money writing it;-)

It’s the principle of the matter.

Too many hours of our lives are wasted looking at stupid ads….

And I absolutely point-blank REFUSE to be part of the problem.

However, can I say to the founders of the Breeze App, you have successfully humanised dating, and I love you for it. Not having to make random chitchat with virtual strangers has been a godsend.

Moving on.

This last term of teaching has been a little insane, teaching-wise – I don’t know what’s wrong with all the teachers in London, but none of them are getting sick!

What’s up with that?

Don’t they realise if they don’t take sick days, I don’t get any work???

This last month and a half, since school started, I have been averaging two/three days a week, which has been a little soul-destroying financially. I mean, it’s usually relatively quiet the first two weeks after school starts, but this is madness.

Last Sunday, I was at my wits’ end as I felt myself beginning to fall into a bottomless bit of despair because I can barely pay my rent, let alone pay my student loans, when I suddenly got an influx of cat and dog sitting jobs for the next month to the tune of £350.

I was reminded, yet again, to have a little faith

‘cause the money always comes in.🙂

********

So anyway, that’s the backdrop to why, when a job came in for an SEN role at a school, I accepted it so fast that I didn’t actually check the fine print of the job.

Imagine my absolute horror when I turn up to this school for autism, and….

Lo and behold

teenagers were filing through the front door.

I don’t teach teenagers – I teach the babies.

My agency knows that my cut-off age limit is year 3, and I have made it very clear that I won’t do any higher, with one of the main reasons being the horrible maths. Being thrown into a class of year 6 students when you haven’t had time to prepare for the maths lessons properly is always a nightmare for me. As I have written before, when I am anxious, my maths brain turns to complete mush, and it’s not pretty.

So, I am really not sure why this job appeared in my feed, but here I was!

In a high school

The deputy, who was really lovely, came to fetch me and show me to my class, informing me that I would be teaching seven different classes, and my subject for the day was going to be

…..MATHS.

What are the fucking chances?

Like, universe, are you having a laugh?

I HATE MATHS!!!!

DID YOU NOT GET THE MEMO!!!!!

So, having minor heart palpitations, I listened to all the work that they were going to be doing, and thank goodness it sounded like the teacher had just left them work that they needed to complete independently. All I needed to do was spend the next six hours praying that they wouldn’t ask me to help them with a maths problem that I had no idea how to solve.

(Oh, the shame)

I am pleased to report that I successfully made it through the day.

I was warned that the first class that was coming in, the Y12’s, would probably be the most difficult. Three children filed into the class, all boys, all taller than me, and sat down to get on with their work. I introduced myself, and that was pretty much all I did for the rest of the lesson. About 30 min into the lesson, there was a loud kerfuffle in the hallway, and the boys started laughing,

One of them says,

“Jamie is here”

Jamie walks into class and is honestly the tallest 16-year-old I have EVER seen.

(What are they feeding these children?)

He has a head full of dreadlocks and the bluest, iciest eyes that drill straight through you. He glares at me and walks to his table. One of the other boys passes a comment, which Jamie responds to

“Fuck you!”

Another boy passes another comment, and Jamie shouts to him as well

“Fuck you too!”

(Mild internal panic is starting to bubble up inside me)

I remind myself to breathe.

He is just an angry kid.

You can do this.

I introduce myself to him, and I am totally ignored as Jamie then starts ranting and swearing about his nightmare journey that morning, culminating in why he was late. I let him speak, God knows we have all had those days, and then I try to sound empathic…saying something like

“It sounds like a rough start- don’t let it ruin the rest of the day”

I don’t sound empathetic at all.

I sound cold and almost platitudinous.

(Internally, I cringe.)

Jamie glares at me not quite sure what to make of me….but he gets on with his work never the less.

I walk around and kneel next to him, and touch him on the arm to tell him something.

He snaps:

“Don’t touch me! I don’t like being touched”

( Fuck, of course – a lot of people with autism hate it! )

I apologise to him and then quietly say:

“Jamie, could I just ask that you not swear in class, please? I am really not comfortable with it”

He glares at me, but nods ever so slightly.

In attachment terms, Jamie appeared to use a C-strategy, specifically a C3, which is known as the aggressively angry pattern.

(He could quite possibly be a higher numbered strategy ….but at least he was C3)

If twenty years of teaching have taught me anything, it’s that you can’t fight fire with fire. Some pupils behave atrociously to create drama or gain attention, and with those children, firmness and consistency usually help to contain the behaviour. But there was nothing performative about Jamie’s rage; it was raw and real. This was a kid who had spent his whole life “fighting” and the emotional toll on him was evident.

He wasnt happy.

He didn’t feel loved

or accepted

or even liked.

While I was very conscious of all this, I also needed him to know that I remained in charge of the class.

(Even if just for the day)

It was a risk; he could easily have escalated his behaviour even further or perceived my authority as rejection….But I felt I had to try. I hoped that if I could do it in a calm, non-judgmental way, then maybe it might provide a little bit of containment for him and his overflowing rage.

Jamie spent the rest of the lesson working quietly, while intermittently leering at me as if he was still trying to figure me out.

I was beyond ecstatic that it had worked.

I had a couple more incidents with children throughout the day.

One boy, Julian, had a missing work file, so he didn’t have any work to do. The teacher next door suggested that he log in to a math app and play some games. Unfortunately, Julian didn’t know his login password, which only compounded his frustration. He started to get really agitated and angry with me because I was the teacher –

I SHOULD know his password.

(Bless in an ideal world, Julian – you would be correct:-)

Unfortunately, I am but a mere supply teacher, and alas, what the schools don’t seem to provide us with at the start of each day is a printout of solutions to every conceivable issue that might arise.

(This, of course, was beyond Julian’s understanding.)

As his frustration escalated, this then led to him asking me if I had even read his personal EHCP plan.

(Education, Health and Care Plan)

to which I honestly admitted I had not.

More rage and anger bubbled out of him.

(Note to self: “Next time lie”)

I calmly asked him what part of his EHCP he felt I was not following, and reminded him I was doing my best to help him solve this password problem.

Julian calmed down, and a little while later he even apologised for getting angry at me.

“I have autism, you know –

We get really angry sometimes if things aren’t the way they are supposed to be!”

At that point, I only had Julian and his learning support helper in the class, so we sat chatting about what it’s like for him being autistic for the last 15 minutes of class.

OMG, what a sweet child.

I listened as he poured out all his worries and frustrations for the autistic children in the world and how he wants to help them ALL….but sometimes he doesnt know how.

(Ahhh, from the mouth of a 15-year-old)

He shared that he feels petrified about leaving school one day because he thinks people won’t understand him. But also, how happy he was to have been sent to this school, which had helped him so much with his anger.

About 5 minutes before the end of the period, another child, Ayo, came running into the class and tried to get out into the playground through the classroom door. I had tried earlier to open it, and the TA had said they didn’t have a key for it.

When the door wouldn’t open, Ayo turned around and shouted at me:

“Open it, Open it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, my sweetheart, but I don’t have the key for that door!”

Ayo: “Oh my goodness, you are the teacher, open the fucking door, just open it!!!!

Me: “I’m really sorry, I would if I had the key – but I don’t have the key for it”

At this point, Ayo’s learning mentor had walked into the class, and she managed to convince him to go around and use the correct door for the playground.

When Ayo left, Julian said:

“It’s his autism, you know, that makes him so angry.

I used to get angry like that,

but I am getting better at it now”

I wanted to give Julian a big fat hug.

(But I restrained myself:-)

His positive self-reflection was just amazing.

I left school on Thursday on cloud 9.

I didn’t feel the emotional drain and physical exhaustion I usually feel when working with the younger, nonverbal children on the spectrum.

I felt significantly invigorated.

I felt proud that I was able to deal with their anger so well.

(Clearly, the last 6 years of processing the inner turmoil and unadulterated rage of my own inner children – is starting to pay off;-)

One of the teachers came to congratulate me:

“You did a great job, all the kids actually stayed in the class

– which they usually never do with supply teachers!’

I kinda LOVE working with teenagers with Autism.

Who would have thought?

(Clearly, you are never too old to learn something new about yourself;-)

Written 20th July 2022

S.t.u.c.k.

Anxiety it feels like

You’re a separate entity

That clings to my body

 As you torment me

My head knows I’ve got this

Everything is in control

I can weather most storms

I feel relatively whole

I’m blogging again

I’m finding my voice

It feels pretty incredible

To be activating that choice

I feel strangely ‘enough’

Like I have nothing to prove

I’m proud of my journey

And where I’ve got to

But I woke this morning

 And look, there you are

Wrapped around my chest

 Pulverising my heart

With this fizzy

Bubbly energy

That just needs to escape

I’m so tired of you, Anxiety

And all the fuss that you make

So, I went for a walk

 To try mobilise you

To give you the space

 To work your energy through

I bumped into our caretaker

(Such a lovely man)

Who asked how I was doing

I was completely deadpanned

 I burst into tears

“Could I have a hug please”

To soften this grip of “YOU”

Dreaded anxiety

I got my hug

(Bless, Alan is so sweet)

I continued with my walk

Heading down the street

A man came around a corner

I got the fright of my life

I always feel like an idiot

When I jump sky high

An electric shock to my system

Almost every single time

There’s a loud noise, or I’m startled

Suddenly, by someone

I felt slightly embarrassed

 A fool in front of him

(It’s your fault, Anxiety

I’m always jumping out of my skin)

My heart is pounding

 I’m so caught in flight

I remind myself

“You’ve got this”

 Everything is all right“

After 20 min of walking

By my beloved canals

I start to relax

Feeling a little semi-normal

I tried to sit down

Meditate for a little bit

But Anxiety spoke up

 She wasn’t having it

“You need to go home

Write it all out

It’s the only thing that calms you  

Beyond a shadow of a doubt”

So I listened to her

She’s been the boss for so long

But my dear friend Anxiety

Hopefully, soon you will be gone

I found an SSP therapist

To work with last night

We are chatting this evening

To see if it fits right

I’m anxious, I’m nervous

And oh so hopeful

Although my internal mother reminds me

“There is no magic pill!”

I hear her, I know

I completely get it

But it’s another step in the right direction…

And I’m taking it

Lessons Learnt

An update from today

(That ship sank fast)

My session with the SSP therapist

Left me mildly downcast

It was an initial session

A ‘get to know you’ one

But honestly, by the end

I was so grateful it was done

She barely asked me any questions

 About what’s going on with me

No genuine interest in my experience

Of dreaded Anxiety

And when I tried to share my feelings

Of being an HSP

She eagerly interjected

“Oh yes that’s also me”

When I mentioned my struggles

Growing up with my mum

She, too, had similar experiences

When she was young

I learnt her dad was narcissistic

(Oh, and her mother too)

And at some point in time

She was sexually abused

And to top it all off

She grew up in a cult….

At which point I wished

The session could halt

Because I’m really not sure

Why she’s offloading all this shit

I came here for a purpose

And this wasn’t it

If I’m going to pay money

For you to support me

Then I don’t want your whole life’s history

Before the SSP

And it’s interesting how she triggered

All of this shame

 As I instantly found myself comparing

 In this ‘trauma’ game….

As she spoke about all the symptoms

Her ‘severely traumatised’ clients had

Neurotic Angel started heckling me

Making me feel bad

“You see, you’re an imposter

Good Lord, you are such a fake”

As she began making her comparisons

My chest started to ache

And as I listen to all the symptoms

All her other clients struggled through

 All it left me feeling

Was invalidated and blue

And my inner child was a wreck

She simply wanted to scream

“I’m sorry, but wasn’t this session

Supposed to be about me?”

She didn’t, of course

She simply burst into tears

Tears of anger, frustration

While internally, she swears

And it got me thinking about that skill

That cannot be over used

The ability to sit with compassion

And simply be intune

Clear the space for your client

For them to feel heard

Validate their experience

Make sure the boundaries aren’t blurred

And I struggled at first

When I got off the call

I felt emotional, confused

And not sure at all….

Was I being overly judgmental

Was I over reacting

 Was this just my inner children

Simply catastrophising

Or was this Lady Godiva

On her horse again

Demanding this poor woman

 Be criminally arraigned

But my internal mother

Quietly came through

“Write it out, write it out!

You know what to do…”

And as I did, I noticed

How my confidence began to grow

Clarity

I can’t work with her

This I definitely know

Because I was left with this feeling

That I always had with my mum

When I tried to talk about my problems

And what was going on

It somehow always seemed

To come back to her

Her struggles in life

How she had it worse

So, I learn to shut down

To not open up and share

Because sadly my mother

Had no emotional room there

She never healed her own trauma

So, she couldn’t clear a space

For her children’s emotions to be held

And safely embraced

But I have done the hard work

 I know what I need

 If I’m paying money for a therapist

It dam well better be about me

So, I’m feeling a little sad

I had such high hopes

But isn’t it interesting all the emotion

This experience has invoked

And it’s been the best lesson

A reminder for me

For when I start helping clients

With their own anxiety

Make space

Be intune

Show curiosity

Genuine compassion

Is all that clients need

Image by Ramon Grau from Pixabay