Holy stressed-out student, Batman! By student, I mean me. I am working on my Masters in Speech-Language Pathology (SLP). If you ever want to see hundreds of (in my case overwhelmingly female) professionals freaking out about cheap pencils, pens, t-shirts, popcorn bags, and other items that have a company name on them nobody will ever read, go to a professional convention. Seriously, there were about twenty males at the conference I attended today, and many of those were working the vendor booths. Some snazzy guys even had tuxedos on! I must have missed the memo.
I discovered today that large groups of people pressing together make my shoulders creep up around my ears like an ill-fitting turtleneck. My ears then start to burn like I've had too much wine and someone told that embarrassing story my dad loves to tell. You know, that story everyone thinks is soooo amusing about how he found me balanced on the rim of a huge garbage can full of dry dog food snacking on kibble when I was a kid? No? Nobody else did that? That wasn't a thing? Oh well.
Where were we?
Oh yes. Groups of people milling around make me nervous. Like water-hose-armpit kind of nervous. Like constipated serial-killer grin kind of nervous. I can't quite relax when people are constantly bumping, brushing, and invading my space. Space issues that plague some of my students make sense to me now. Sometimes the sensory input is just too much and one small touch, even from a well-meaning friend, will tip the balance in the wrong direction. The problem is that a large proportion of the kids SLPs see are unable to stand up for themselves and say, "I need a moment!"
I certainly needed one today, but adults sometimes don't have that luxury. So instead I am winding down with a glass (read: bottle) of wine, a rerun of What Not to Wear, and the dulcet tones of my snoring dogs. I only drooled on myself once today and didn't stick my foot irretrievably far into my mouth, so I think it was a good day.
I discovered today that large groups of people pressing together make my shoulders creep up around my ears like an ill-fitting turtleneck. My ears then start to burn like I've had too much wine and someone told that embarrassing story my dad loves to tell. You know, that story everyone thinks is soooo amusing about how he found me balanced on the rim of a huge garbage can full of dry dog food snacking on kibble when I was a kid? No? Nobody else did that? That wasn't a thing? Oh well.
Where were we?
Oh yes. Groups of people milling around make me nervous. Like water-hose-armpit kind of nervous. Like constipated serial-killer grin kind of nervous. I can't quite relax when people are constantly bumping, brushing, and invading my space. Space issues that plague some of my students make sense to me now. Sometimes the sensory input is just too much and one small touch, even from a well-meaning friend, will tip the balance in the wrong direction. The problem is that a large proportion of the kids SLPs see are unable to stand up for themselves and say, "I need a moment!"
I certainly needed one today, but adults sometimes don't have that luxury. So instead I am winding down with a glass (read: bottle) of wine, a rerun of What Not to Wear, and the dulcet tones of my snoring dogs. I only drooled on myself once today and didn't stick my foot irretrievably far into my mouth, so I think it was a good day.
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