I am very pleased that my trauma counselors are teaching yoga each day, even if I am not able to come.
There are other areas of my life that are not as pleasing, namely the fact that I don’t know where the hell we are moving and when. However, my counselors have become very good yoga teachers and that makes me happy.
Yesterday two women who work at several refugee camps in the area joined my Saturday amputee yoga class. They are psychologists who wanted to see how we adapt yoga for amputees at the clinic. They enjoyed the class — a simple mat class using seated and prone postures chosen with amputees in mind. Like in the patient classes, we also incorporate progressive relaxation. Actually, the class overall is similar to the patient classes. I just leave out postures that are impossible with one leg.
They have invited me to lead some classes at the nearest camp, Mae La, in the next couple of weeks and conduct a training for their counselors in March. The group that I will meet first is comprised of about 30 young men who live and work together in Mae La camp. Ninety five percent of them are blind and many/most have lost both arms and legs. Landmines.
I am researching more about yoga for amputees and have found some interesting stuff so far. From www.amputee-online.com I learned that there are some ways that we can relieve phantom pain (pain in the missing limb) in a yoga class. For example, tense and release (progressive) relaxation might be helpful for the phantom pain. We can also do some self massage: from face and neck to stump. Click here for more medicinal things to do for phantom pain.
I will begin with breath of course, then a series of seated postures (will need to adapt for upper body amputation), some prone postures, and then relaxation.
I need to remember that they need to move their limbs and that there is no shame for them to do so — it is their body. It’s my own discomfort/worry that needs to be kept in check.
We survived another few days without WanderPapa, who was in Bangkok networking. I’m not going to rant too much about this damned job search.
I will however post a couple of my lessons learned:
1. Jobs. It’s hard to get a job abroad that is not either teaching English or some sweet-deal package where your Western based company sends you. To shoot it down the middle between no money and bank is tricky.
2. Real Life. It was easy to sit in suburban Boston and plan and dream. Now we are debunking the myth of “it would be so perfect if only…” We are living abroad (our particular dream) and, in addition to learning so much and mostly loving it, realizing that this is not a permanent vacation. We need income for a nicer-than-local apartment and a bi-lingual school, tickets home and the occasional weekend away. Who knew? Not us sitting on our butts in Quincy. I am realizing that happiness isn’t geographic and that nothing is perfect. Though some days, when recruiters return phone calls and there is a soft evening breeze as we ride home from the playground, this place seems pretty close. Nutshell: Don’t just dream, do.
3. Me & My Kids. I have now stayed alone with the kids in Mae Sot on three separate occasions while WPapa was out seeking gainful employment. And I have done just fine. I was scared to do it but in the end it was empowering. And exhausting. My nanny/cleaning lady helped so much. Kudos to all the single moms out there. You are heroes!
Frequently during my yoga class at the Patient House (where clinic in-patients stay), I think to myself “Oh the humanity.” There is just so much life. People with all sorts of ailments living on top of each other.
One thing I have noticed is that the patients take such good care of each other. Honestly, you’d be better off being among Burmese than Americans if you were old, incontinent, unable to walk or talk, etc… No ailment seems overly embarrassing, no normal bodily function repulsive.
One young man, an eye patient, carries his buddy, a paraplegic, up and down the stairs — during yoga he carefully arranges his friends legs. When a 20-something mentally disabled amputee (who recently suffered heart failure) was projectile vomiting during my class Friday, three different people leapt up to help.
All of these people were strangers 1 day, 1 week, or 1 month ago. Now they are like a family.
Yeah, so I need to stop swearing. Yesterday at around 6:30 a.m. while pouring bowls of cereal, combating an ant infestion, and trying to prevent WGirl from standing on the kitchen table, I yelled “You guys are driving me crazy!”
Sensing my frustration with the way the day was kicking off, WanderBoy calming responded “It’s a f%$king day, huh mama?” I laughed my agreement and then tried to explain why that word is forbidden.
The f-word is officially banned from my vocab. For those of you who know me, you’ll remember my annual promises to stop cursing which began on WBoy’s first bday. This is my wake-up call. The f%$k stops here.
They’ve slept in 3 hotels in 4 days. Granted we lug a pack-n-play but still.
WBoy just trotted off down a lane that would give adults pause because of its foreigness (with papa of course) to grab some kao paht (fried rice). ”Arroi” (tasty) he says.
We the parents are so much less wimpy than we used to be. We used to get so stressed about taking WBoy anywhere overnight because we feared that he wouldn’t sleep. Anyways, it’s very liberating to feel like we can do things and go places.
Tonight we are totally pushing our luck: overnight bussing it back ‘home’. Not looking forward to it at all. Sleeping on a bus is kind of wandering that kids of all ages hate.
Pics from the top:
1. Pool at the fab Amanta Ratchada Serviced Apartments. One bedroom for $60 inclusive of a great breakfast and taxes. Very close to the metro and a fancy mall, as well as a more pedestrian one.
2. In Chatuchak Park. I want to live near here if we move to Bangkok. Plenty of fresh-ish air and open, green space. People picnicing, boat rides, ice cream. Perfect place for a late January evening picnic. Not to rub it in:)
3. In the squeaky clean, new metro. Prices are steep and prevent the masses from enjoying the shiny A/C-ness.
I have been teaching for four months at the clinic. Now I am planning for the hand-off. It is my hope that the counselors will continue to practice yoga themselves, as well as lead patient classes. We just need to find the right balance between too much and not enough. I have another month at the clinic but I’d like the counselors to take over so that we can see what works and make adjustments if there are problems.
I have been covering a variety of topics in the non-practice trainings: anatomy, injuries, pre-natal, sequencing, etc… Yesterday, I reviewed the information that I gathered at the Trauma Center at JRI’s Trauma Sensitive Yoga Training. My trauma counselors seemed to respond well to the themes (Present Moment, Moving with Direction/Purpose, Taking Effective Action, Choice, Moving in Rhythm with Others) and how to use language to promote these themes in class.
Language is so critical, yet I have been operating without it in many ways. I have picked up enough Burmese to lead about 2/3 of the class — but what I say is not nuanced. I encourage present moment awareness with the breath — but I don’t remind often enough about “feet on the floor, hands on the mat”. I don’t use invitatory language (“If you would like, when you are ready…) nor do I use enough choice language (“Make big circles or small, keep your neck up or slowly bring it down (Fish)”) or offer enough modifications (“Bend the knees, your hands may feel better like this”).
To ensure that the counselors understand and use these words, I had them translate my English phrases into Burmese and I tried to convey the importance of these subtle phrases in a trauma yoga setting.
It was a great reminder for me as well. There are alot of balls to keep in the air when you are teaching. You explain, watch and assist. But the way you say your words is also extremely important. Whether for trauma survivors or the general public, I think the way that we talk in a yoga class goes a long way to empowering our students.
So in the beginning, I worried that WanderBoy wouldn’t speak Russian, his father’s language. I shleped him 2 hours per day (a.m. 30 min there back, p.m. same) 2-3 times per week to a Russian nursery. By 4 he was totally fluent, preferring Russian over English — his mother’s tongue. In Moscow in September, he easily communicated with kids his own age on the playground. In Thailand in November, his American grammy and grampy had to repeatedly ask him to speak English.
Fast forward to January. In a couple months of watching way too much Diego (he can count to 10 in Spanish..great;) and not interacting with other Russian kids, English has taken charge. He attends a Thai nursery school where there is little English but some — clearly no Russian. Now, we have to ask him to speak Russian.
I can see this amazing gift of language slipping away. So its on me now to speak alot more Russian at home with the kids and WanderPapa. Also, good news for the Russian grandparents. You’ll be seeing alot more of our kids.
Just as a sidebar: WanderBoy’s English is very colorful and I love it. He calls my bike a ‘piece of crap’ (oops…wonder who taught him that) and he kept saying “I’m so exciting” yesterday on the plane. He meant excited of course.
We are so over this job search. Ugh. WanderPapa is back from Shanghai and, while he had some good meetings, he only really has one proper job prospect. He has a 3rd interview on the phone with the US on Wed. Fingers crossed. While Bangkok interviews went well earlier in the week, there is silence on the next step from the decision makes. Ugh.
My trip with kids down here was fine. They were great overall. Quiet on the 3 hour van ride, just sort of crazy at the airport, and fairly good (WanderGirl slowly losing it) on the plane. WanderBoy puked right into a trash can, no muss no fuss.
The only difficulties in the 7 hour journey happened in the last hour. Here begins my rant about my formerly beloved Best Western Amaranath. The representative was not waiting for us…again. A random hotel rep that I saw called him for me. When he arrived he said the minibus would arrive in 25 minutes. I was pissed — why the hell are we staying at an ‘airport hotel’ if it will end up taking us 40 minutes (15 travel time + wait) to get there? I’d have been better off booking in the center.
Then the 15 minute check-in nightmare. We arrive at the hotel. TWO couples beat me and kids up to the desk where there is one person waiting to check in. The kids were over-tired and going nuts: climbing, running, yelling, jumping on furniture. And these child-less assholes are slowly checking in, not letting me ahead of them. Over the din, one old man was arguing about the cost of breakfast. Who are these people?
Get to the room and there is no baby bed — had to call twice. Everyone is so slow and leisurely. Final beef: the freakin TV went on full-blast in the middle of the night. This has happened here before. This hotel is really nice but there are flaws that I had no patience for at the end of a long day.
The trip here overall was fine. I met some really nice people who distracted the kids with funny faces and inflight magazines. But I am still reeling from those clueless , self-centered people who couldn’t be bothered to give a struggling mom a break.
Now I’m going to let it go. But the stupid job search goes on…
Here are some pics of kids from the last road trip. This time I’m going it alone with them…
WanderPapa is taking off Sunday night for a week of interviews…first in Bangkok Monday and Shanghai Tues-Fri. Because who doesn’t interview in 2 countries in one week? Anyways. In an effort to push the Bangkok search along more quickly he is also scheduling interviews for the following week.
So the kids and I will take to the road and join him in Bangkok. Same windy-road trip with the puking that I did before Phuket. The weirdest thing is, I am not dreading it. I guess I’d just rather be reunited with WP sooner…plus WanderBoy and I have a movie date for Sunday. And, natch, I have found what looks like a great hotel Amanta Ratchada: 1 bedroom apartment — about $70 with taxes and breakfast.
The week alone will be long but "adventure" (puke, screaming, meltdowns, junkfood, scary driving) awaits. What can I say, I’m crazy and don’t learn from my mistakes. Guess I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I was completely sane.
