Home: Ducky

This November, MHT is participating in the Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraising Drive. The money goes to programs that support refugee families that have been resettled in the United States. In tandem with these efforts, our clinicians are writing posts reflecting on what home means to them.

“This sculpted mass of cotton and fluff became a soft and portable vessel where my sense of home resided. He allowed me to take that sense of security with me wherever I went.”

His name is Ducky. Not exactly the most creative choice, but it’s a fitting name considering he is an eight-inch tall plush-animal duck. His simple name aside, Ducky was my first best friend.

Now, many mature adults may think Ducky is just the sum of his parts: Cloth and stuffing. But if you were to see how I carried him with me as a child, I assure you, for a fleeting moment, you too would understand how real he is (*cough cough… I mean, was). This sculpted mass of cotton and fluff became a soft and portable vessel where my sense of home resided. He allowed me to take that sense of security with me wherever I went.

As it turns out, I am not alone in this attachment phenomenon. Many other children develop similar attachments to inanimate objects. In fact, by eighteen months of age, 60% of children form some kind of attachment with a soft object (e.g., plush or blanket). Researchers theorize inanimate object attachment allows a child a secondary secure-base to explore; in other words, the child projects their felt sense of security with a primary caregiver(s) onto another non-living entity and thus utilizes the secondary security object to increase their range/capacity to explore and learn from their surroundings.

Ducky definitely facilitated many of my exploration efforts. There were many times when I accompanied my mother (a physician) to the hospital when she made rounds. A hospital can be a scary and overwhelming place for anyone (let alone a young child) and I always brought Ducky with me to help pass the time. While I was normally shepherded to the doctor’s lounge to play on the wheel chairs and feast on what seemed like a neverending supply of doughnuts…. on one particular occasion, I was left at the nurses’ station. With Ducky on my lap, I patiently waited. I counted the number of times red lights flashed over patient doors and I tried to psychically incept a page for Dr. Evans over the hospital intercom.

What seemed like hours passed. And just as all sense of novelty began to wane… a jar caught my eye. Within the jar, there were what appeared to be small-ish brown boogers wiggling through the water. My curiosity overwhelmed me. Manipulating Ducky’s stubby arms around the lid, I proceeded to open the jar to investigate its contents further. As it turns out, those “boogers” were medical leeches and it was not until I had placed half a dozen onto myself, Ducky, and the desk where I sat waiting, that a nurse discovered my innocent transgression and released one of the most awesome screams I had ever heard to date.

While it’s arguable if the leech fiasco enhanced my overall understanding of the world around me, it did give me an experience that I will never forget. If I hadn’t brought Ducky with me that day, I probably would have never opened that jar. In fact, if I did not have Ducky, I probably would not have done a lot of things.  I probably would have been more shy on my first day of pre-school; I might have taken longer to learn how to ride a bike; or maybe I would not have made my bed every morning so Ducky could have a neat place to sit as he waited for me to get back from school. Having a separate entity like Ducky (to both rely on and provide for) enabled me to venture out in my environment where I was tasked with maturing intellectually and emotionally.

“Once the object that housed my burgeoning (but yet to be self-avowed) curiosity, Ducky now lives as a symbol of home – that intangible place I can come back to when the world around me gets scary. ”

Looking at Ducky now, he is tattered by love. Long gone is the bright yellow fluff that lined his body; now just grey porous cloth, worn ragged by the thousands of nights I held him as I went to sleep. His right foot is only a crudely stitched stub – a battle wound from the great dog-chewing incident of 1991. His beady plastic eyes, once lost in the yellow down of his face, now bulge from his threadbare fabric as if to see and know me more clearly than ever. Once the object that housed my burgeoning (but yet to be self-avowed) curiosity, Ducky now lives as a symbol of home – that intangible place I can come back to when the world around me gets scary. He reminds me I am brave, and competent, and am safe enough to remain curious because there is always some kind of home to come back to... even if that home is inside yourself … or in my case, a duck. 

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HERE'S HOW YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN FRIENDSGIVING WITH US:

Give! Visit our Miry’s List campaign page and make a donation. It's that simple and no sum is too small. Truly.

Follow! Be sure to follow us on Instagram and our blog throughout the month of November. We will be reflecting on what it means to be welcomed, received, and known.

Share!  Help us spread the word. You can do this by sharing our social media posts or links to our Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraiser page.

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A little about Miry’s List:
Refugee families come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution in their home countries. They leave behind family and friends, as well as virtually everything they own. Many Americans, seeing these families in their communities, wonder: What can I do to help? Miry's List provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the things that they need to get started in their new lives – from diapers to beds to cleaning supplies and toiletries. To learn more, visit miryslist.org.

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Lauren Ziel, MSW is a Registered Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #76483, working under the supervision of Saralyn Masselink, LCSW . Through the use of movement and mindfulness, Lauren develops specialized treatment for anxiety, depression, eating disorders, challenges in life-stage transitions, relational difficulties, and identity/intrapersonal development.

Home: Safety

This November, MHT is participating in the Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraising Drive. The money goes to programs that support refugee families that have been resettled in the United States. In tandem with these efforts, our clinicians are writing posts reflecting on what home means to them.

“Like a fence protecting baby grass, some untouched territory can allow for steady growth. In the shelter of “home,” I can expand and decay, progress and regress, create and destroy— all without apology. ”

Home means safety to me. I think of the word “home” and I hear the sound of a deadbolt lock clicking in place. That sound is sweet and satisfying. It promises privacy. No intrusions and no interruptions. 

In a culture that glorifies the adventure-haver, the festival-goer, and the yes-sayer— I love the clear “no” that rings from a locked door. 

I swear I’m not a complete bummer-person, but I do believe in the beauty of boundaries. 

Like a fence protecting baby grass, some untouched territory can allow for steady growth. In the shelter of “home,” I can expand and decay, progress and regress, create and destroy— all without apology. 

In 1929, Virginia Woolf insisted that a “room of one’s own” would allow a woman to drop the act. She said a private place meant there was “…No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.” What wonderful permission she grants us. 

I think women in particular must allow themselves to close and lock the door. I mean that literally and metaphorically. This can be tough in a world that wants to consume us while simultaneously demanding our graciousness. It's hard to shake that instinct to be polite. But I have found few things more invigorating than denying someone access. 

Locks can be picked, though, and doors can be kicked open. Sacred spaces can be infiltrated or destroyed entirely. I know that safety is never a given and privacy is a privilege known to few. 

When circumstances won’t allow for solace I turn inward. And then I turn to Camus. He said, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

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HERE'S HOW YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN FRIENDSGIVING WITH US:

Give! Visit our Miry’s List campaign page and make a donation. It's that simple and no sum is too small. Truly.

Follow! Be sure to follow us on Instagram and our blog throughout the month of November. We will be reflecting on what it means to be welcomed, received, and known.

Share!  Help us spread the word. You can do this by sharing our social media posts or links to our Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraiser page.

******

A little about Miry’s List:
Refugee families come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution in their home countries. They leave behind family and friends, as well as virtually everything they own. Many Americans, seeing these families in their communities, wonder: What can I do to help? Miry's List provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the things that they need to get started in their new lives – from diapers to beds to cleaning supplies and toiletries. To learn more, visit miryslist.org.

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Katie Hurley, MSW, is an Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #89658 working under the supervision of Saralyn Masselink, LCSW #28617. Katie specializes in working with children and adolescents who are navigating depression, anxiety, trauma, and PTSD.

Home: Your Place in the Family of Things

This November, MHT is participating in the Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraising Drive. The money goes to programs that support refugee families that have been resettled in the United States. In tandem with these efforts, our clinicians are writing posts reflecting on what home means to them.

“...that is so much of what therapy is about—creating a home. ”

“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.”

-       Mary Oliver, excerpt from the poem “Wild Geese”

When I think of the word home, I think first of a feeling…the feeling of a warm, summer night.

Home is sense of belonging, a sense of returning, of being found, of having a place—a place that waits just for you. That welcomes and loves you. Not so much a physical place but an emotional place. A place that can hold you, no matter what form you may arrive in. That remembers you, no matter how long you have been gone. That is the first thing I think of when I think of home.

And then, right after, I think of how often in the human experience we do not feel that. How often we feel the opposite of that—a lostness, a feeling of being strange to our self or to another, a homelessness. A longing for that feeling of coming home in the moments when it feels unreachable. To me, that is so much of what therapy is about—creating a home. A person, a place, an hour of the week, that is just yours. That holds and remembers you even when you feel strange and unfamiliar to yourself. That knows and welcomes you. And about how, over time, that sense of home becomes internalized—becomes not only a place that you go to with yourself and another in your hour each week, but a place inside yourself. What a lovely thing that is to build with another human. 

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HERE'S HOW YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN FRIENDSGIVING WITH US:

Give! Visit our Miry’s List campaign page and make a donation. It's that simple and no sum is too small. Truly.

Follow! Be sure to follow us on Instagram and our blog throughout the month of November. We will be reflecting on what it means to be welcomed, received, and known.

Share!  Help us spread the word. You can do this by sharing our social media posts or links to our Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraiser page.

******

A little about Miry’s List:
Refugee families come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution in their home countries. They leave behind family and friends, as well as virtually everything they own. Many Americans, seeing these families in their communities, wonder: What can I do to help? Miry's List provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the things that they need to get started in their new lives – from diapers to beds to cleaning supplies and toiletries. To learn more, visit miryslist.org.

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Chelsea Small, MSW, is an Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #78503 working under the supervision of Saralyn Masselink, LCSW # 28617. Chelsea believes in the wisdom of the therapeutic relationship to ignite transformative growth. She has extensive experience working with people impacted by trauma, domestic violence, and the effects of emotional dysregulation.