Fuck Yeah


I feel fucking good.

And that is not something that I normally feel to this degree on a Saturday night halfway through a long weekend of classes.

No.

Normally I feel, tired, depleted, and sad, exhausted, over blown, over whelmed, over it.

But.

Tonight in the last half hour of my last class I got to do a dyad with another classmate and it turned out to be the best dyad I have done in my two years.

The best.

I felt so good.

I felt it all interconnect, I felt all the information that I have been digesting in huge bites and chunks all integrate and I was just there, in the field, doing the work, being myself and I was a therapist.

Man oh man.

It feels really good.

My “client” felt the same way and the person observing said to me afterward, “man, I wish you were my therapist!”

I was so happy to hear that.

I got so jazzed up.

It might take me a minute to come down from it.

Which I’m ok with.

I am.

I have my little routine, my school night routine, literally, not figuratively, I have a school night routine, I have my lunch packed and prepped for tomorrow, the books and notebooks I will need for class and my stash of tea for when I need to compose myself and comfort myself.

A hot cup of tea does me wonders.

Calms down my parasympathetic system.

Hydrates me.

Warms me up.

Gives me something to fiddle with, my glass Mason jar in its midnight blue cozee that says “everything is going to be alright.”

Which was amply demonstrated to me today when I wasn’t on the high I am now.

When I felt overwhelmed, and overdrawn, over taxed.

I had sat through a practicum workshop during lunch and it was so much information and so many people were clamoring to be heard and have their questions answered, I felt completely overwhelmed.

I did, in the end, get the information I needed.

I stayed a little bit after and was fine for being a little late for my next class as I needed to get sorted with my next steps for the internship.

There’s a lot.

I have to get a supervisor that the school approves of.

I have to start outside therapy.

I have to register for the summer with a special registration form that has to be turned into the registrars office in hard copy.

I have to get a three page paper form to my practicum site, get it signed off by my site supervisor, the school supervisor, my advisor, and the head of the program.

Jeez Louise.

Nothing stressful about doing all of that.

Fuck me.

I meet with my site supervisor on Tuesday after work so I really wanted to make sure that I had all the forms that he will need to fill out.

I collected a big wad of paperwork and found out that my site supervisor has a lot of experience  with the school and that I was going to be in good hands.

Which I had already suspected, but it was still nice to hear.

Then.

I ran into a fellow in the cohort ahead of mine who is working in the same site I will be at and I asked him how I should go about getting a supervisor and he said to ask the head of the institution who I will be seeing on Tuesday.

Fantastic fucking idea.

I will ask, I will take his suggestion, I will get a supervisor.

I got a referral to a therapist for my outside therapy work and hopefully I can get that all lined up as well by the time I start the internship.

So many things to do.

By the time I got to my afternoon class I was blown out of the water and in tears.

Fortunately it was mostly lecture and by the time we got to a place I needed to participate more I had calmed down.

Tired.

But calm.

And after some dinner, my last class of the day.

A good collaborative class discussion on the work that was presented last night, we had three guest lectures do a panel on a Community Mental Health program in the city that focuses on being a liaison between the gangs and the city and the county and the police.

They had some great things to say and it lit up a nice back and forth in our class tonight discussing what we had heard and felt about it.

Then a break, and the dyad work and the juiciness of getting to sit in the seat and claim it and show up and be me.

Me.

A therapist.

So good to know that all those years having an open door policy at work are being put to use, or the dozens of years of recovery have been so integrated into who I am that I could draw upon my experience and go there in a therapeutic role.

It was such a good feeling.

And I could see that it landed with my “client” and that change was being affected and that felt good.

Being of service usually feels really good.

This just affirmed once again that I am in the career I am supposed to be in, that my experiences were not for naught, not that I think that, at least not the last twelve years, it has been made very clear that those experiences are gold, that I am going to get to help more folks and that I am good at what I do.

I have years to go.

I have much more to learn.

And I have a deep humility for the process.

Gratitude too.

And there.

I feel like I have gotten my unwind.

Time to get ready for bed.

It’s an early day tomorrow.

Last of the three days.

And.

Grr.

Day light savings.

I’m losing an hour of sleep.

Oh well.

Just grateful that I will be getting any sleep at all.

So grateful.

Seriously.

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