Life is Good:)

I haven't written in awhile because I have been doing something every second for the last two weeks. BUT it has been a crazy and good few weeks. I feel like everything is coming together, and it almost seems too good to be true.

I met a great guy a few weeks ago, who I have been seeing a lot of. By that I mean hanging out after 9pm when I get out of class or work. Since I haven't dated in awhile, it is an adjustment to have to find time for a relationship. But I will be done with school in six weeks and have more time. If I can just make it through the next month and a half!

I also got a job! I am interested in work with eating disorders and I was hoping to get a job at an eating disorder program. I was waiting until we went over resumes and cover letters at school to apply for jobs. What do you know, the next day I saw a job posting for a residential eating disorder program. I sent in my cover letter and CV and I got an interview. They asked me a lot about my own history of disordered eating and how I would handle that. I felt confident leaving the interview, and I got the job. There are some downs to the job, like the pay, and working weekends, and having to start while I am still finishing up school. But even I really love it. I have learned a ton in just two weeks (there are a million rules and procedures). Best of all, I actually enjoy the job. The other counselors are all 20 something women, and a few are in grad programs like mine. I feel really blessed to have a job lined up in an area that I am actually interested in. I can get hours towards licensure, and great experience with eating disorders, so I am willing to deal with the limitations of the job.

Getting the job also means I can move in with my friend J! I am so excited. I went straight from living at home, to a sorority, to home. So living with J will be really great. She is in my program so we understand each other's work, which will be really nice to have. Plus, she's just fun and a wonderful friend.

I also made contact with a woman who has a private practice with eating disorders. I met with her last summer, but have e-mailed her a few times since. I let her know I got the job at the eating disorder program. She wants to meet with me to discuss what she wants to do with her practice, and to see if my goals would fit with her goals. I can't believe how lucky I am right now! To have a mentor who might be able to offer me a job opportunity is amazing. Even if I does not work out, she is a wonderful resource to ask about setting up a private practice, and getting involved in the eating disorder community.

I said in a past post that I felt like I was running marathon. Well, the last minute adrenaline has finally kicked in. I think it kicked in because it had to. Working 30 hours a week, having an internship, alternative hours, and class....and a baby social life...requires adrenaline. So if I can just keep up this energy for six more weeks, then I can crash. As Thomas said: I think I can, I think I can.

Dagger Through My Heart

I think I have this false idea that every therapist besides me knows what they are doing, and their clients always get what they want. So when my ego is slammed I think I am the only one.

Today I saw six clients. My second session went very well. I have been seeing my client for seven months, and the first time I talked to her she told me she hates counselors. She said she told her last counselor to "fuck off." So today, when she told me she has seen tons of counselors and I am the only she could talk to and trust, and the only one she has progressed emotionally with, I felt great.

Fast forward to my third client...I have been seeing her for a year. She has had a horribly difficult life (just like my second client), and has been feeling pretty depressed for awhile. Today she said she did not want to offend me but she thought she needed to do "real therapy," but wanted to keep talking to me as well. REAL THERAPY?! I wanted to cry but held it together and asked her more. She felt she was empty and "fucked up" and needed to go deeper. I suggested that after we end our therapy in June she see a chemical dependency counselor and a therapist. She even said she thought her mood was connected to smoking weed every day. We had to end the session, but I need to address this next week and I am dreading it.

I want to give my clients what they need, but it is difficult when they expect me to be a miracle worker. When people haven't been in therapy before I wonder if they think it should fix everything. Perhaps they think I should just tell them what to do and life will be perfect. Sadly, I hold myself to that standard sometimes and end up feeling like crap when I don't live up.

Just as I was recovering from one professional slam, another one hit. During a meeting with my clients' father he said the little girls think I am just someone who draws with them and plays games. This followed him threatening them during their fight that he would tell the counselor. The girls frequently share their upsetting feelings with me, but I am not a discipline enforcer! Inside I felt defensive, but I remained composed on the outside and suggested we meet all together next week.

Only once have I had someone say "we don't think you are helping" and six months later her granddaughter was saying she did not want to switch therapists because she was comfortable with me, and I had helped her a lot. So I know people say things when they feel stuck. I know as a therapist I take the blame for things not going well in their lives. The hard part is not taking it personally. How much should I brush it off and believe they are simply blaming me for all the troubles in their lives not magically disappearing? How much should I take it seriously and change my approach? I know I should probably be able to do both.

I know that every therapist has clients who say insulting things. Some therapists even get bitched out by clients, so really I guess I am lucky. In time I know I will look at such seemingly crappy sessions as learning experiences. I will see them as opportunities to examine my insecurities and to handle difficult situations. I will see them as opportunities to be open as a therapist to the point that I can explore clients' feelings about me. But in the moment it feels like a dagger through my heart. It feels like someone is confirming my worst fear: that I don't know what the hell I am doing.

Reaching the Finish Line

I feel like I have been running a marathon and I am nearing the finish line...but I am waiting for the adrenaline to kick in. I am sluggish and about to collapse. I wonder if the adrenaline will ever kick in, or if I will just become more and more weak, until I either hit the ground, or barely pass the finish line and then pass out. I have never actually run a marathon, so maybe there is no last minute energy to carry you through. I hope there is.

In my final quarter of grad school I am both excited and overwhelmed. I look forward to the future, yet I have to worry about all the details of getting there. I have to finish my portfolio and give my final case presentation. I have to stay present enough to pass my last few classes. Yet readings and papers seem so unimportant as I present my final case and search for jobs.

Ahh! Job searching! Writing curriculum vitaes and cover letters is stressful enough. The last paying job I applied for was a hair salon. Now I have to market myself as a professional, with a masters degree. The most stressful part is finding jobs to apply to. While I see job listings for therapists, they all want MHPs and Licensed therapists. That would be great in a year or two! What is more frustrating is that externships exist. People actually work for free after getting a masters degree just to get hours towards licensure. What the hell?! As if therapists are not underpaid and under appreciated enough, agencies are actually taking advantage of desperate grads to this degree. That is ridiculous. Maybe if you have a successful husband to pay the bills (including your student loans), but I am as single as can be.

Today we had career day and I got some good advice. One recent grad said he applied to all the jobs he thought he fit well with, even if he didn't meet the requirements. The worst they can say is no, or nothing at all. This gave me hope. I am going to ignore the MHP requirements and apply anyway. Why not? If someone from another counseling program only has to get 150 client contact hours to graduate, and I have to get 500, I would say I have more experience than them, even if they have been out of grad school for a year. Yes I am a MFT and SPU snob, but I think we work our asses off in our program, and employers are getting well prepared therapists.

So this weekend I am perfecting my CV, searching for job openings, and sending out all the cover letters and CVs I can. If I can just get interviews I will be pumped! I can sell myself (in a good way)...I just need to get my foot in the door.

Okay, now back to worrying about getting enough hours to graduate and paper writing:(

Bittersweet Goodbye

This week I said goodbye to my second client ever. It was surprisingly bittersweet. Of all of my clients she has pushed and challenged me the most. She has shocked me the most. She has scared me the most. Of all of my clients I understood her the least. Yet somehow the roller coaster ride she took me on made me grow the most of all. In the midst of it I wished she was not my client. But looking back I know she taught me the most. So to say goodbye was harder than I imagined. Perhaps because many times I had wished for it (and felt guilty for the thought). Yet when she told me on Monday that she was moving to her father's house on
Friday, I felt sad.

If it had to end, it ended at the best point. My client has had several months of positive mood, and relatively unconcerning behavior. So to say goodbye at this point was a relief, because I let her go at a good place. We talked about her journey in the last year, and her experience in therapy. I was surprised to learn that she looks forward to seeing me now, and that she has learned and grown a lot from therapy. It was a wonderful personal validation, and reminded me that I can impact even the most challenging clients.

While I have ended therapy with many clients, they have all been relatively short-term. This was my first taste of what will be a lifetime of bittersweet goodbyes. To know someone so intimately; for someone to be so vulnerable with me; it is hard to imagine that I will never know where their lives will go. I only have memories and the hope that they will live wonderful lives.

Thin

I remember it as far back as age seven or eight. I wouldn't wear a regular gymnastics leotard; it had to cover my theighs. I was a tiny little girl and I thought I was FAT. I remember looking in my grandmother's mirror at age ten in my two piece bathing suit. I didn't even have hips yet and all I saw was FAT. I remember the exact day I started an 11 year stint of food restriction. I was eleven years old and I often bought a pink cookie at lunch time. Then one day it occured to me that if I stopped eating those cookies...if I stopped eating fat, I could get skinny.



During middle school I didn't understand that calories are what cause weight gain, I thought it was all about fat grams. I would eat 20 grams of fat a day, and punish myself with eating only 5 if I went over one day. As my mom started to notice she got more controlling about what I ate. This only fueled my obsession. I threw away lunch items she sent with me, and supervised her cooking so she didn't add oil or butter to my food.



In high school I discovered calories and sugar, and my obsession grew. Friends noticed my odd food habits and commented frequently. I was "that girl." The one they called "anorexic," even though I wasn't. I was never quite sure if they were concerned or jealous. Their comments embarrassed me and made me proud at the same time. Embarassed at the attention, but proud I had the self control. Breaking my jaw came with the welcome side effect of not being able to eat solid food, so I lost weight. Working at the student store was another easy was to distract myself from eating lunch. Even my boyfriend breaking up with me was fuel for the fire. I was hurt and I thought the best revenge was to lose weight. If I could just be skinnier I would show how lovable I was. Even visiting my family was inspiration to lose weight...especially my dad. In my mind I would be more beautiful, more perfect, more lovable, if I was thin.



College brought a whole new world. Joining a sorority was amazing in many ways, but horrible for my already unhealthy relationship with food. Imagine living in a house with 100 pretty girls, all commenting on weight and striving to be thinner. Imagine the people you live with talking about disordered eating as if it was normal. I began to drink in college, but only shots of votka because then my stomach wouldn't expand much when I drank. I would restrict food all day if I was going to drink, to save the calories.



Dessert was a new temptation as well. I never had dessert in my home, so I certainly did not know how to eat it in moderation. I would try not to eat dessert when others were watching, but would sometimes go back to the kitchen and eat sweets when no one was around. Then I could avoid the shame of being so disgusting and out of control. At one point I was so disgusted that I had eaten several helpings of dessert that I tried to throw up. I only did this for a few months, and I was smart enough to know it wasn't going to get rid of the calories. But it was a challenge to myself that I had it in me to get the food out. But I also felt out of control and guilty that I couldn't restrict. I would way rather be anorexic than bulimic. Sticking your fingers down your throught is not as easy as I imagined...especially when you're trying to hide it from the women you live with. While I tried to hide it, I also heard other girls talk about throwing up, so I didn't think it was that bad.



My big breakup in college had the bonus of making me so upset I didn't have an appetite. I thought, at least I am getting skinnier because of all this pain. Every few months after our second breakup my ex would call and want to get together. Even if I only had a week, I would restrict as much as I could before seeing him. If I was thin I was showing him.



I am not entirely sure what happened to bring me to where I am today. The summer after graduation I began to relax a bit more about what I ate, but the thoughts were still there. "How sick am I for eating nachos." Gradually during graduate school I began to uncover the many factors that added to my food issues. My mom, and two aunts had eating disorders. My family is CONSTANTLY talking about food and weight. My mom is a nazi about every aspect of food. No preservatives, food coloring, gluten, dairy, sugar, etc. Perhaps most of all I am a perfectionist. I am a perfectionist about most things, but especially about my appearance (perhaps a throwback to my Oklahoma roots). As my therapist has forced me to see, these are the rational explanations. There are a million other factors. There is a flood of emotions, completely irrational, that overwhelmed me for years. My body and food were something I could control myself, unlike most things in my life.



As I approach the end of graduate school I am at a place of peace. It wasn't there when I started school, but it is a part of me now. I have stopped writing down everything I eat. I let myself eat dessert without guilt. I can tell when I am hungry and full, and eat accordingly. I can usually look in the mirror and see a beautiful body. I now know my worth and how lovable I am does not depend on my weight. I am so much more.



I hope to take my years of struggle and turn them into something good. I want to help women like me. I like to think that I didn't spend half of my life consumed by the obsession to be thin in vain. I think it had a purpose in my life. That I can use it as a therapist to bring true compassion and empathy to my work. I like to think that everything happens for a reason.

Roller Coaster Ride

They make me think

They make me laugh

They make me want to cry

At times they make me angry

At times they make me crazy

At times they suck the life out of me

They touch me to the deepest core

They inspire me again and again

They surprise me with their profound words

At times they make me feel amatuer

At times they make me anxious

At times they make me wonder if I want to go on

They make me feel a million things, like a roller coaster ride

They let me in the most vulnerable, intimate spaces of their lives

They are complex, broken, fascinating people

They teach me more than I can imagine, about being a therapist, about people, about life

One Foot in One Foot Out

For a year and a half I have shut out the numerous negative comments about the job market. "No one is hiring," "Even people with graduate degrees can't get a job," "Everyone is getting laid off." I have told myself that it didn't matter because I am in school, and by the time I graduate there will be jobs. I have been so consumed with the stresses of graduate school, that life after graduate school was a rarely on my mind.

However, the last few months life after graduate school has increasingly consumed my thoughts. I have fantasized about the furniture I want to buy when I move in with my good friend J. I have dreamt of moving out of my mother's house, where I have been since beginning graduate school. But, I have also thought more and more about JOBS.

Sometimes I think positively, and imagine I can get the job of my dreams at an eating disorder clinic or college counseling center. Sometimes I think I would even be ecstatic to get a job at a local mental health agency. But as I think of all of the local graduate programs in psychology related fields, with fresh graduates, I am discouraged. I see few job postings for unlicensed therapists, and I worry that there is too much competition.

I am also noticing that as my anxiety and focus on jobs increases I am slowly checking out of graduate school. Just when the most pivotal moment of graduate school approaches (my final case presentation), I find I am less and less focused on school. I imagine this is a natural process, but it is uncomfortable for me. I like to focus on one thing at a time. But I feel like I am straddling two important aspects of my life: graduate school and my future career.

In terms of job searching I am going to attempt to stay positive. One of my supervisors calls this a "useful fiction," which has become one of my favorite terms. I realize I have a great deal of control in how I view things...and for the sake of my sanity I am going to believe that I will get a job. I am going to believe that I am marketable, even fresh out of graduate school. I am going to believe that my personal qualities and life experiences will augment my limited clinical experience. I am going to believe that my graduate program has made a wonderful name for itself in my community. Most of all I am going to believe that everything happens for a reason...the "useful fiction" I use for everything in life.

Dream a Little Dream

In continuation, I had yet another unpleasant dream last night:

I am at the agency I do my internship at, only it is a large house. I sign my name out on the name board as my supervisor comes down the stairs. I am stressed about something, and ready to get out of the building. As I walk out my supervisor says my friend J's boyfriend, M, called. She asks me to talk to him. Then suddenly J is there in the window, doing her hair. Then I am telling someone outside about M. I tell them that he is "quirky."

Whether this was part of the same dream, or after, or before, I do not know. Dreams are strange that way.

I get an e-mail from the dean of my university. It is about graduation. It says something about making sure your family and guests are cordial and do not create conflict. Then I am on campus calling my aunt L. I tell her I got an e-mail saying our families must get along. L gets defensive and tells me this may be impossible with aunt J there as well. I tell her aunt J is not coming anymore. She is still offended and says she can't guarantee she will get along with everyone. I am surprised at aunt L's reaction. She is usually the calm and reasonable one. She is a counselor. She tells me she doesn't think she will come to my graduation either. I am crying, walking around campus, with sunglasses on. I pass V and S from my program. They look at me in a concerned way, but say nothing as I pass them. I continue walking, thinking: my aunts aren't coming, my dad isn't coming. Only my mom will be at graduation. Then I wake up to my mom opening the front door and I realize it was all a dream.

What Dreams May Come

I promised myself I would keep up with this blog, not for the hundreds of followers (really just one), but for me. So I have a place to vent, a place to put to paper (or computer screen) what is in my head. When I thought of what I wanted to write today I could not think of anything profound, nor did I want to relive the stress and annoyance of my week. Somehow writing it out would simply be reliving it. I want to put it behind me and move forward. Instead, I want to write about a new phenomenon for me: DREAMS.

I know this may sound odd, that dreams are a new thing for me. But really they are. Not because I didn't have dreams before. Not because I didn't think about them. But because they never had much meaning to me. Since I began therapy I have put more thought into the less "rational" parts of myself. Dreams are certainly not rational. Yet I have been noticing them a lot lately. I have noticed them because they are frequent. I have noticed them because I remember them. I have noticed them because they involve major parts of my life. I have also noticed them because, more often than not, they are uncomfortable and unpleasant.

I told my therapist about dreaming about my clients, and that I wanted to get them out of my dreams. She said "what if you didn't have to get rid of them?" "What if they meant something?" As I told her about one of my dreams, I realized so much of it made sense. I dreamt of a teenage client of mine picking me up with a bunch of teenage boys in a car. Then I was in my sorority (although it was a different building in the dream). There were clothes thrown everywhere. The place was total chaos. My therapist said, "interesting, her life is chaotic and messy." Yes, that is totally true! So, no I'm not a dream reader (nor do I believe in them), but I do think it is interesting to think about what my dreams may be telling me.

So in continuation of my mother-aunt drama, here is my latest vivid dream:

I am getting married. I wake up in an empty room on the carpet floor. Then I realize I have no one to do my hair or makeup. A friend throws some bobby pins in my hair...but it is falling out and lopsided. Then I rush to throw makeup on in a time crunch. I try to pin my own hair back in the bathroom. Then, in my wedding dress, I decide to go pee. I dip the entire train in the toilet water. My pretty, strapless, mermaid, champagne dress soaked in toilet water, with no time to dry. Then I am in the room where the ceremony will happen...a food court. My aunt Jill is there fighting with my mom about something. I feel a rush of emotion. I want to cry.

I woke up anxious and tense. I knew immediately why my fighting family was in the dream. I could guess that my own up tightness was coming though in the makeup and hair fiasco. But I did not realize why I was having a wedding dream. Then I told my mom about the dream. She said, "well you told me that other than your wedding, graduation will be the most important event in your life." Wow, deep mom. I had told my mom that. That I wanted my family to suck it up and get along for the few momentous events of my life. Then I dreamt of my wedding day, disastrous in numerous ways. Perhaps dreams do mean something...

The Loving Aunt I Knew

Here is part two of my emotional vent from the other day. Luckily I had therapy, good talks with friends, and a few days before I called my aunt. Oh...and a drunken girl's night afterwards. My therapist wisely told me that my aunt would react the way I expected, and that I should prepare myself for it rather than try to change her reaction. Wise words...and I sort of took her advice.

I was relieved to get my aunt's voicemail at first so I could explain myself without judgement or interruption. Unfortunately, she called me back to say the message cut off half way. Of course it cut off right when I was saying "It's my mom's house and I have to respect that."

The first half of the conversation was to be expected (and I tried to detach from it as best I could). Ignoring my request to not hear about her conversation with my mom, my aunt proceeded to describe it for twenty minutes (very expected). Also to be expected was the irrational belief that my mom wanted her to not come to my graduation so it would be a trip all about my other aunt. To prove her point she said something hurtful, which I have noticed happens a lot in my family. To prove their points they attempt to show you how their enemy doesn't love you as much. So she said my other aunt told her we didn't have a relationship. This was perhaps her way of saying "I deserve to be at your graduation more, because I care about you more." Well, instead of feeling more loved by her, I am angry and hurt.

Overall, she made some points that I believed about my mother making excuses from the beginning to make her not want to stay with us for graduation. But there was also the expected craziness.

I think what shocked me most was her lack of warmth towards me. I expected the rage at my mother, and the ranting, and the craziness. I think I even expected that she wouldn't come. What I didn't expect was that she would be angry or cold towards me. That's what hurt. That's what made me cry.

She said "what is the point in me coming." I said "because it matters to me. Because I want you there even if my mom and you don't get along." But my words seemed to be gibberish to her. She ended by telling me she isn't coming and asking "is there anything else?" in a cool tone. As I cried on the other end, she was silent. I said "I'm sorry" and "I love you" between sobs. Then I sat there in my car, alone, on a beautiful sunny Saturday, and I cried.

This time I was alone, and crying my eyes out felt okay.

So what was I crying about I thought...good question.

When people say "well at least there won't be conflict at your graduation" I realize I wasn't really crying because she won't be there.
At first I was crying because I was angry, at her and at my mom.
Then I was crying because for once I wanted to be more important than the family drama.
I was also crying because I am just so freaking emotionally overwhelmed.
But what I finally realized is...

I was crying because the loving aunt I knew, not the evil woman my family sees, wasn't there anymore.

Dear Dad

I wish you would have wanted me
I wish my birth had been the happiest day of your life
I wish you would have told your family I existed
I wish you would have helped name me
I wish you would have seen me take my first step
I wish you would have been there to videotape my birthdays
I wish you would have cared that I moved across the country
I wish you would have taken me to my first day of school
I wish you would have been there to teach me sports, or take me camping
I wish you would have wanted to meet me, instead of doing it because she sued you
I wish you would have been there for my plays and skating shows
I wish you would have helped me buy mother's day presents
I wish you would have been in the stands at my drill competitions, and when we won state
I wish you would have been there to see me off to homecoming and prom
I wish you would have been there to see me off to college
I wish you would have seen teh sorority I lived in and the women who were my dear friends
I wish you would have been there when I graduated Magna Cum Laude, or even that you knew
I wish you were proud of my career aspirations
I wish you knew how hard I work, even if I won't be rich
I wish you knew my friends
I wish you knew anything about me
I wish you knew everything about me
I wish you were proud of me
I wish you loved me
I wish you had been there when I needed a dad

Devastated

How ironic is it that intense family conflict, resulting in a mini emotional breakdown, could be surrounding my graduation from a MARRIAGE AND FAMILY THERAPY program? Yes, that is my family for you. So forgive me if the following sentences sound like an incoherent rant. So here goes...

One of my mother's sisters and my grandma booked tickets to come to my graduation, and they are staying at our home. Then my other aunt (who is my closest aunt, but has debilitating back problems making it hard to even get here) decides she wants to come as well. Of course my mother says she can stay with us, which I tell my aunt. How naive of me to believe things could be so simple. When my aunt calls my mom, my mom decides her staying with us would not be "harmonious." Instead, she wants her to stay at a hotel, which my aunt does not react well to. So I get a message from my aunt to call her back (which I have yet to do, and am dreading), followed by a message from my mother explaining how awful my aunt was on the phone and that she can't stay with us. Added to this is the fact that my dad's sister is coming to my graduation. However, my step-mother told me my dad may not come to my graduation because his sister will be there.

My reaction is best understood in two parts: the rational and the emotional

Rationally I know that my aunt is addicted to pain medications, which have changed her personality drastically. She is negative, hostile, irrational, and has scewed peceptions of many things. Thus, I understand that my mother does not want to be around her, or have a relationship with her. I also understand that there would likely be conflict with her staying with us. As a therapist in training I can spend countless hours analyzing all of the years of hurt and resentment, coupled with multiple family addictions, which have create deeply rooted negative family dynamics. I can look at the situation from afar and UNDERSTAND.

But...I also don't care.

Emotionally things are quite different. To paint you a picture, when I got my mom's message I was at a grocery store and promptly started crying. My immediate reaction was one of anger, disappointment, sadness, and stress. I was thinking, "Are you fucking kidding me? Of course my family can't behave like adults for one weekend and put my special day ahead of their childish hatred of each other. I should have known." Most of my emotions were geared towards my mother, which I know isn't entirely fair. I guess I thought as my mother she would be able to put her needs aside for me...for one weekend. I think years of my mother putting her hatred of my dad and step mom before me also added to this reaction. As time goes on I am getting more angry at my aunt as well. Who yells at someone they are wanting to stay with? When I think of her as a person, and not a crazy drug addict I am angry. When I think of her as my disabled, doped up aunt, I feel sorry for her, and responsible for her in some ways.

I had therapy today and my therapist was very helpful. She told me that I don't have to be so rational, and that I can have feelings. This is so true, but as you can see, I can't even describe my emotions well. What's more, it is hard for me to describe my feelings without also analyzing and rationalising family dynamics. Ah, the down side of analyzing family dynamics for a living. My therapist also said, "It's not your job to fix them or change them. They are using you and you aren't getting paid." So true! So I guess I have something to work on in therapy now!

So without making excuses or explaining my family, here is how it is to me:
I had a dream that for one special event in my life, the people who care about me would be there. They would be happy, proud, and mature. The day would be about ME. But that dream was shattered and I feel like a little girl. I feel angry, disappointed, sad, let down, and overwhelmed. I feel selfish, guilty, and overly responsible. It is like a million moments during my childhood, although I didn't have the words to describe it then. I had a hope that things could be different for once, and that hope was squashed. So in a word I am DEVASTATED once again.

But for once I am going to allow myself to feel this way for awhile.

Playing Dress Up

Remember when you were a little girl and dressed up in your mother's clothes? You pretended to be a mother, or a doctor, or a flight attendant (I practiced the hand signals even). Well, since beginning grad school I have pretty much been doing the same thing. The clothing part I had down (although to my disappointment professional clothing is scarce at my internship and people prefer yoga pants and tennis shoes). Yet the therapist part I felt I was pretending. What is that saying? Fake it til you make it. That has been my approach. Although I am certainly not alone. My classmates have done the same, and I am certain any responsible therapist before me. Because when you have one quarter of grad school under your belt, and are expected to counsel at-risk youth, what else can you do?

The feeling that I am an actress playing the part of a therapist is slowly decreasing over time, although it is still quite present. It is funny that my first career aspiration was to be an actress...how lucky I can use those skills today. But the experience of being hyper aware of where my hands are, my tone of voice, my every mannerism; the searching through my mind for the answer or solution in the catalogued therapy books in my head; the thought of "what would a therapist do now;" they have all dwindled over time. Thankfully, since I am now more able to be present in the moment with my clients. I cannot say that I see myself as a therapist yet, but I see myself as a person, rather than an actor playing a part.

Virgin Blogger

Today my closest and oldest friend shared her blog with me. While she has been writing it since November she recently decided to share it with several people. I have to admit I am behind the times (in many ways) and have never read a blog. Strange, I know. My friend is going through a very rough time right now, which we talk about a lot. Yet there was something about reading her blog that was so different than having a conversation with her. It was like looking into her head, her heart...her soul. It was incredibly meaningful to me. She said she put off starting a blog because she didn't think her life was interesting enough. Maybe her life isn't interesting to strangers on the Internet, but it is very interesting to me. What's more is that her blog made me realize how therapeutic writing is. It seems odd that I would not realize the healing properties of writing, since I am constantly suggesting that my client's write in journals, or write poetry or songs. When I think about it, there is a lot of advice I give that I neglect to take myself. I'm sure there will be more on that to come. I must admit that the cute page layout my friend had on her blog also made me want to design one. Yes, I am a sucker for cute girly decorations. So we shall see if this was an impromptu decision, and I get too wrapped up in the stresses of life, or if I can take a few minutes for myself and reflect on all the things that I don't have time/guts to process out loud.