Shouting Down the Inner Demons

For my internship, I had to create three professional and three personal goals that I want to accomplish while I am here. 

The three professional goals came to me almost instantly. It was so quick and easy to think of them that I actually have four. 

1. Implement a music therapy grief and bereavement support group. 

2. Develop the skills and materials needed to approach a hospice and create a music therapy job.

3. Complete a hospice music therapy research proposal.

4. Develop a much larger professional song repertoire. 

These are all fantastic things that I can't wait to accomplish! The personal goals, however, were much harder to come up with. Reflecting on myself as a professional is much easier than shining the bright light of self-examination into the dark corners of myself. 

After a lot of reflection, I came up with two fairly obvious goals and one really tricky one. Because music therapists like measurable outcomes, I also have to create behavioral objectives for my personal goals so that my internship director and I both know when I have accomplished my goals. Here's my best guesses so far. 

1. Continue to integrate self-care as a habitual way of being.

This is an obvious one. Sometimes caregivers are lousy at caring for themselves. My objectives here will likely center around logging healthy, self-care behaviors. 

2. Process any counter-transference issues that arise during internship relating to my own mortality or the death of my loved ones.

This is another gimme for end-of-life care. My objectives will probably consist of identifying a certain number of sources of counter-transference, either real or potential, and then utilizing a few different methods for working through those feelings. This is surprisingly cut and dried. 

The last one, however, was actually the one thing I thought of first and it's going to be the hardest. It's hard both in terms of creating objectives and in terms of managing to do it. 

3. Offer more of my genuine self without fear of repercussion.

This one merits a little explanation. 

Many times, the very most important thing we can offer patients is our genuine presence as a human being. Our own liveliness. Our creativity. These are all potent tools we can bring to our interactions. They are the tools that empower our musicianship. 

For most of my life, I have struggled with bringing these things to the table. 

I think I started life as a fairly open personality but one without a lot of social skills. 

Early experiments with being genuine with others taught me that being open and vulnerable was a bad idea.

Whether consciously or not, I thereafter decided I would not be open, vulnerable, or genuine with others unless it: 

A. Could not be avoided or 

B. Was with people I loved and trusted immensely. 

That's a fairly significant barrier to effective musicianship and effective therapeutic relationships, for starters, not to mention in relationships with friends and family. 

Over the years I have made huge leaps of progress in coming out of my "shell" and just being Emily with other people. Much to my surprise, this has not blown up in my face. 

Instead, it's actually been wonderful. 

However, I am still my own worst critic. I am a paradox of desperately wanting to be unabashedly creative and being far too internally hyper-critical of myself to actually create anything. 

There's a reason I don't write my own music, but in my heart of hearts, I want more than almost anything to be able to express my thoughts and feelings uniquely through my own music. 

Whenever a little blip of creativity sneaks up on me while I'm not looking, it never gets by for very long before the laser beam of internal criticism stops it dead. 

I think of lyrics. And the demons begin, "Does anyone actually talk that way? Now it just sounds contrived. Are you seriously calling that a rhyme scheme? Justin Bieber had more lyrical complexity." 

And the lyrics get trashed. 

I think of chord progressions or melodies. The demons continue: "That sounds exactly like every music theory exercise. That's too repetitive. A monkey could play that on guitar."

And so I trash the chords or the melody. 

This is absolutely self-sabotage. It has to stop before I completely kill my ability to spontaneously express myself (in music or in speech) without beating my every thought or note to death with analysis.

It's a work in progress. Yesterday, I posted a video of me improvising with the Native American flute. I shared a moment of genuine, open, musical vulnerability with a lot of people and the world did not implode. Nobody even said they hated it. Or me. 

I had to shout down the inner criticism demons to allow myself to share. I am glad I did it. 

This blog post has my genuine self all over it, too. I am trusting that the world will not implode. 

Back to this very tricky goal. I think my objectives will probably consist of examining some of the factors that initially lead me to place a barrier between my genuine self and others, and then making myself engage in so many acts of uncensored creativity. Maybe it will be drawings that I am not allowed to throw away. Or more music that must be shared with at least one other person. 

Do you lovely people have any suggestions for more ways to work on shouting down my inner demons? 

Thank you for reading; it took a lot of courage for me to name these demons out loud. 

Do You "Get It?"

Today was an almost snow day in intern-land. 

I accomplished basically two things. At first those two things seem largely unrelated. On a closer look, the two tasks are intimately connected. 

First task:

I spent the entirety of the morning - four straight hours - using MS Paint to shade in a map of Missouri counties in which a music therapist works. This is part of my work for the CBMT State Recognition Task Force. That's the group of people who are working really hard to secure state licensure for music therapists in Missouri. 

This map project took hours because MS Paint is substandard for graphic design tasks. It's what we had to work with. This map will eventually be in the hands of many of our state congressmen and state senators, brought to them care of the music therapists taking time to attend a Hill Day this spring at the Capitol. It needs to look good. That's why I spent a lot of time outlining and shading one pixel at a time. 

It was a somewhat painful but effective way to burn through a snow day morning.

Second task:

I finally managed to dig my car out from the piles and mounds and heaps of snow to get over to the hospice house to see a patient this afternoon. This was the wonderful woman who had been wrestling with some serious grief and emotional/spiritual pain but who told us she had peace and she was ready the last time we saw her. 

She is now in the early phase of actively dying. She was awake but sort of staring "through" the ceiling when I arrived. She focused her gaze on the Native American flute when I pulled it from my bag, so I started with that. She was too weak to talk or smile, but she sure tried her best to smile at me. After a few minutes of flute, she also seemed pretty interested in my guitar. I played and sang the hymns I knew she really enjoyed in previous visits. 

It is astounding, but even with this much weakness and this much decline, she still nodded her head in time to a few of her favorite songs. I chained hymns together using the iso principle (it really is one of our favorite tricks) to increase her relaxation and help her breathe a little more deeply and evenly. She attempted another smile but when that didn't quite happen, she winked at me! 

I had all but played and sang her to sleep when I got a sense that she wanted something else before I left her to rest. I got the cedar flute back out and said I would improvise another song, one especially from me just for her. She nodded and sighed contentedly. As I finished my last improvisation of the visit, she winked at me again and promptly fell asleep. 

This kind of interaction with people is all in a day's work for a music therapist (or intern, as the case may be). 

What does the first task of map making have to do with providing supportive presence and comfort at the end of life? Or with helping a child achieve their academic goals? Or whether or not someone receives music therapy to help them walk and talk again after an accident? 

It all comes down to whether or not the right people "get it." Do you "get" music therapy? Does your employer? Neighbor? Grandmother? 

Our hospice administrator - the big boss - told me today she would gladly speak to any of my prospective hospice employers back home on the value of having a music therapy department when it comes time for me to find or create a job. She gets it. 

Do our legislators understand that music therapists are highly-trained clinicians and highly-skilled musicians, both? Do they understand that what we do is evidence-based treatment? 

Probably not. Not unless we tell them. 

Advocacy efforts like this map are one way we can make sure moments like my afternoon with my patient can continue to happen. 

Working on this map today revealed two important facts. 

The first is that there are a heck of a lot of music therapists providing services in many Missouri counties for a state that, as of yet, does not officially recognize their professional status and credentials. 

The second is that there is a shameful number of counties in our state alone that have absolutely no access to the services of a music therapist. 

The more people who "get" what we do, the faster we can change that. 

The Intern Chronicles: Snow Day

I swore I would not get behind on updating friends and family on my adventures.

That obviously did not happen. It's mostly that I have been too busy having said adventures.

I promise I am making up for it though, because I am inserting three (!) videos of non-symphonic instruments into this post. Spoiler alert: one of Native American flute and two of Irish Penny Whistle.

But first, a quick recap of the past few weeks and all the adventures!

In no particular order (because the days are all starting to run together), I give you a quick list of really awesome experiences that have happened since my last post:

- I got to see a patient go from crying out, hallucinating, and doing some intense end-of-life grief work to smiling, nodding along to the music, and telling me and my internship director how she was ready to die. She had two lucid periods in the last two weeks that we know of and I got to be present for both. She took my hand and told me goodbye and she is so ready to lay down her struggle. It is wonderful to see her finally have some peace. This is an adventure that doesn't translate into words very easily but I know it is an experience that will stay with me forever. 

- I got to play my penny whistle for a patient with an Irish background and she totally ate it up. She had been very depressed over a recent medical procedure but we left her giggling in her chair. Music therapy is not actually magic - it just looks a lot like it.  This lady is the reason I learned the two Irish folk songs below. "My Wild Irish Rose" and "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" are two of her favorites!

- One of my other patients is Italian. When she got to visit Italy, the Sistine Chapel was closed. It has always bothered her. So, we used my iPad to take a virtual tour of the Sistine Chapel while we played a CD of her favorite Italian music. I promised to actually sing in Italian for her next time. I have never seen such a smile! I can't wait for that session!

- One lady I saw was having a decent bit of discomfort. While we waited for her nurse, I kept her more comfortable by singing her favorite music with her. She was so hard of hearing that the only way to do this was to lay my head down by hers and sing directly into her ear. Instead of grimacing and bracing and groaning, I had her singing, chuckling, and remarking. "We love to sing, don't we honey?" I am loving getting to use some of our fancy music therapy tricks like chaining and the iso principle to increase patient comfort. 

- Yesterday, my internship director was sick and the other music therapist was on vacation, so I got to provide all the scheduled music therapy yesterday and nothing caught on fire! I really think I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. 

- Today, the office was closed and hospice took a snow day. Except, when you are an adult who works for hospice, "snow days" mean that you work on things that are less cool than seeing your patients. So instead of seeing patients, I updated the schedule and practiced and worked on some required reading. But I also got to learn the Native American cedar flute and had time to learn those Irish folk songs. I was the only living thing in the office all day which was moderately creepy but I refuse to work from my apartment because I have a hard enough time putting my patients down at the end of the day without blurring the lines between work space and me space. 

- This hasn't happened yet (look, I'm ahead!) but on Friday I get to provide all the music for a patient's birthday party because the other music therapists can't. I am excited! 

- On February 14th, I will again be functioning as the entirety of the hospice music therapy department. Wish me luck! 

In the absence of more cool things to tell you, please see below for my early attempts at Native American flute noodling, and two Irish penny whistle songs. 

http://youtu.be/HPPM-RMIY2c

http://youtu.be/Cykq8ZTNGb8

http://youtu.be/CGIG8WAqwFs