New job, new reasons to burst into tears!

Woah Nelly. Am I right in saying that there may be nothing worse than being hated by a seven year old? It may actually be one of the most heartbreaking feelings in the world.

So I started my new job! Pyjama Smoker is now exploring strange new worlds, new civilizations. I am going where few self-proclaimed "bad with children" thirty-some-odds have gone. I am taking care of children.

I've been on the job for a few weeks now. May I first say - of course I will keep details of the job anonymous, as to protect the identity and privacy of the kids who I work with. That being said, I must start with the fact that the kids I'm working with are totally rad. They have loving, amazing parents, and as such, they are loving, amazing children.

I am so very new at this whole children thing. I am in fact, so new, that I have no fucking clue what I am doing. It's okay - their mother is aware of this. Luckily, I am a fairly rational, responsible, empathetic person, so I can't do too much damage. Famous last words.

Today, one of the children got upset with me. I was unable to give her what she wanted. As it turns out, what she was asking for wasn't what she really wanted, it's just that she wasn't able to identify what the real emotional need was. Which makes total sense to me. It doesn't make life any easier, however.

The thing I've noticed about working with children is that it triggers my emotional memories of what it was like to be that age. What it was like for me - not to say it's like that for them. I felt the same when I was working with teenagers. For example, when a seven year old is crying that she misses her Mummy, I am immediately transported back to my seven year-old self... missing MY Mummy.

When I was a child, I had some issues with anxiety. Hey, that was kind of like the understatement of the year! Because I couldn't explain anxiety - because I couldn't identify that feeling, I became extremely dependent on my mother. I had *severe* separation anxiety from her for my entire childhood. This was very trying on my mum, my dad, and my sister. I still feel badly that my sister had to put up with years of her needs being put behind mine, because mine were quite simply - louder.

Okay - the scene from today. I am driving the two children to their mother's work so I can take the one who misses her Mum to see her Mum, and the other one to an extracurricular activity. It felt like the longest ten minute drive of my life, because the more she was begging to see her Mum, the more I was feeling that anxiety in myself - that NEED to get her to the place where she feels the most safe. I was perilously close to bursting into tears myself.

I dropped off the two children in their respective places, trying to also be empathetic towards the one who was being such a patient trooper through my process of fulfilling the other child's needs. I drove home, and I cried the whole way.

I think this may be a small pitfall I will encounter in any work I do that involves caring for another, or supporting another. I have this weakness where if I relate to someone's pain in some way, I try to hold that pain inside myself to keep the other person from feeling all of it. Needless to say, this does not work. It was difficult in counselling, because I had to learn to be supportive, while still building a little warm bubble around myself that took in the bad and vaporized it before it could reach my heart. In fact, there are some interesting visualisation techniques for helping professionals to do exactly that - build a warm bubble. Not a wall, but something that is both protective and permeable.

Sigh.

I'm sure of one thing - "Adventures in Baby-sitting" is not a realistic movie, and Mary Poppins can stick her spoonful of sugar up her wazoo. NO one has that much patience. And you know what? That's okay.

PS