One More Thing

Gotten.

I picked up my third practicum review from the supervisor at my site.

All fives, the best one could score, and two “fours.”

To tell you the truth I wasn’t expecting anything less.

My supervisor has pretty much given me the same score from the beginning.

I’ve not had any interactions with him, he’s not discussed my progress, and this time I had even fewer notes about my abilities than before.

It’s not a problem.

And it is.

I’m not getting the kind of training I feel that I need to really become the kind of therapist I want to be.

I am a good therapist.

I can say that without qualms and I will become better with the more clients I see and the more experience I get.

But.

I’m not being trained at this site, there’s really no theory being used except take what you like and leave the rest, which is good, up until a point.

I was talking with my therapist about this today and what it was like to work with my other supervisor who was amazing and taught me so much that I am still in awe of the experience and I realize, already missing him.

He was hard to show up for because I had expectations about myself and wanted to show him that I was capable and smart and good.

He got all that and he reflected back honestly where I needed work, where I needed boundaries, where I was doing well, where I could grow and how I could do that.

My current supervisor does not do that and I had the feeling today when I picked up my evaluation that I won’t be there all that much longer.

Oh.

For a little while yet.

Or maybe with fewer clients.

I just sense that I need to be getting more and I’m going with that gut feeling and I’m going to start actively looking for a private practice internship.

There are somethings I need to do, get on the list serve at CIIS and look for supervisors taking on interns.

Reach out to people I am interested in working with.

The professor I reached out to last night got back to me and let me know that she was not taking any interns at the moment, but were she I would be at the top of her list.

She also said that she would forward my name on as an intern to any supervisors she thought would be a good fit.

She encouraged me to look into private practice internship and gave me the impression that I was indeed on the right track doing so.

My therapist said the same thing, she felt that it wold best serve me and gave me some resources.

I am excited.

I am in a place of transition and I am completely ok with the clients I have now and the schedule I have, but I realize I could be better served, learn more and have better guidance elsewhere.

I am so grateful for my practicum site for all the flexibility it has and for the wide range of clients I have gotten to see, the diversity of cases has been awesome.

I also appreciate that I don’t have to do a lot of paper work, that’s been pretty big, I just am recognizing that there is more and that I feel confident at this point exploring my options when I am well situated where I am.

I don’t have to leave, I can explore and take my time and find a good fit.

I just need to look about and ask questions and see who may be available.

I have two other former professors I would love to work with and I think  I will reach out to both of them.

There.

Just reached out to one.

Excuse me while I draft another quick e-mail to the other.

And done.

That felt good.

Very proactive.

And that’s what I have to do.

Take little actions and see what happens.

What my therapist remarked on today is that I don’t sound anxious.

And I’m not!

I’m excited.

I feel like I am moving forward in a positive way and although I don’t know the exact direction I’m going or what door to go through next, I feel like things are unfolding.

And really.

All I have to focus on is what I need to do next to get all my paperwork into school.

This Saturday I will have my group supervisor sign my paperwork.

I will be taking all those signatures and the evaluation to school with me the next weekend of classes.

I will hand them over and find out what I have to do next.

I will need to get my therapist to sign off on my year of therapy, which we discussed today as well, and she’s all set to go.

In fact, now that I think of it, I might as well bring that paperwork into our next session.

Then I can have the last evaluation, the signed forms from each supervisor, and my therapy sessions covered and done.

I’m sure there’s some little bit of paperwork that will still need to get sussed out, but I feel very confident that it will.

Very confident.

 

Thank You!

Thank you Carmen!

The mom said, and pulled me into a hug.

I wasn’t expecting that.

It was so sweet and so endearing, I teared up.

She was thanking me for the week, one of the most challenging weeks I have had with the family I nanny for.

Two very sick kids.

Dad and the oldest were out-of-town all weekend visiting Grandma and relatives and friends out of the country, so it was just the mom and I.

And two of the sickest little monkeys one could imagine.

Today I carried the baby on me for nearly 8 hours.

I might have had a few moments, a run to the bathroom, a quick gulp of tea, where I wasn’t holding him, but he was pretty much glued to me the entire day.

The mom’s been handling the nights and I have been handling the days and she is sorely short on sleep.

I did my best to help out as much as possible.

Which really meant tending to the baby while the mom helped the little lady.

She is not a good sick kid.

Who is, really when it comes right down to it.

And she needed a lot of attention.

Mom would nurse the baby, then hand him to me, that was about my only reprieve, when he was nursing.

And let me say, it wasn’t the worst way in the world to spend my last day of the week, a hot little baby cradled against me all day, sleeping mostly.

He’s been running a fever and just has no desire to do much but sit and snuggle and doze.

Once in a while a big coughing fit would lead to some screaming.

There is nothing more disarming to my psyche than a child screaming in pain.

It was piercing the few times it happened to me today, but fortunately, he was fast to be soothed and I was able to get him comforted and back to sleep fast.

I spent many hours just holding him and rocking and humming.

I spent some time too with the both of them when the mom had to make a run out to do some errands.

At one point I had the baby on my chest sleeping and the little lady snuggled up under my left arm, a pile of stuffies, two blankets, and some children’s video playing on the tv and, yes, I nodded out.

All three of us sleeping in a pile on the couch.

It didn’t last long.

The mom came back and I woke quickly, I wasn’t really deeply asleep, just in that drowsy half state that happens right before true sleep.

I was really grateful that I could help the mom so much and I was happy to receive her thanks, if a tiny bit overwhelmed and surprised by it, I was also very, very touched.

I like her.

I like her a lot.

She’s quick becoming a friend and I feel very much a part of the family.

I was also grateful to leave tonight.

It was a long week.

I had a big trip the weekend prior and school the weekend before that.

So this is actually my first weekend at home in a couple of weeks were I’m not obligated to much.

To much.

Ha.

Fuck.

I make myself laugh.

I have plenty I need to do this weekend and plenty that I will attend to.

I do hope, though, that I will have some down time and some moments to relax.

I will definitely be going to yoga.

I have missed it for two weeks, the travel and school, and I’m sure I’m going to be rusty and sore after tomorrow’s class, but I need to get back in it.

And my best friend is going to come with me to class on Sunday, so there’s great impetus to get my butt to go to the studio.

We had breakfast today before work and I was very happy to meet, to spend time, to feel like a human being connecting with another human being, before I became a comfort pillow for the baby for 8 hours today.

Grateful for my friend and the time I got to spend and that I get to have company in my yoga class on Sunday, that will be awesome.

Although I know I will be self-conscious.

I’m usually a bit self-conscious any way, but I go, and I always feel better and I usually wish that I could go more often.

But I’m also never sure when the hell I’m supposed to be able to get to another class.

I may be able to squeeze in a third this week though, my therapist is out of office on Tuesday, I could make the morning yoga class happen before going into work.

Any time I can squeeze it in I am trying to do so.

Life is busy.

Yoga in the morning, shower, breakfast, writing.

PhD application preparations until I have to go to my internship.

Group supervision from 2-4p.m.

I might try to swing over to Hayes Valley and go to Optical Underground afterward, I have the prescription for new glasses to get filled.

I have gotten my last two pairs from them and I always find something I like there and they are cheaper than a lot of places.

I am still a bit miffed that the UCSF optical department doesn’t accept my insurance for glasses.

What was the point of going there?

I’m still so not pleased with my school’s health insurance but hey, I do have it, even if it doesn’t seem to have paid off any, at least I won’t get the ding when I go to do my taxes.

Which I also want to do very soon.

Indication of how busy I have been, I haven’t yet done them.

I can’t believe that it’s almost the end of February and I haven’t done them.

Very unusual for me.

But.

Hey.

Last year I didn’t have an internship or supervision, I wasn’t in therapy, I had a few spare minutes to attend to it.

I will, and soon, just need to get my PhD application done this weekend and then the taxes.

And then.

The carrot.

With my return I will be doing some traveling.

That’s always the reward for taxes getting filed.

A trip.

I’m still waiting to see if the family is going to take me a long for part of their vacation and what that will look like, but I do have it narrowed down to July.

Paris in July will be hot.

But it will be Paris.

Anyway.

That’s a wrap on today.

I’m ready to chill out.

Have some tea.

Watch some Peaky Blinders and go to bed.

I have a lot to do tomorrow.

A lot.

Bye Bye

Faceplant.

I took Facebook off my phone today.

It gave me a great big scary warning about losing content and I was like, what the fuck ever.

Let me lose political arguments.

Terror.

Sniping.

Ugliness.

Trauma.

Policy intrigue.

And frankly a great big suck of my time.

I was on Facebook a bit more than I typically am via my phone today as the baby was sick and the only way to nap was to get him in the carrier and rock him until he could sleep.

It took a while and the screaming was tremendous, mostly just because the poor little guy was exhausted, he has croup.

In fact.

All my little monkeys have it.

Thanks to some kids who came to school sick last week and it spread like wildfire.

So today I had two boys, both who were sick and not so happy.

I did get to have them out in the world today as I helped the mom with some errands and for a very sweet hour I had the baby napping in the stroller and my big guy curled up on my lap telling me stories while he nibbled a pastry from Arizmendi bakery.

I got sunshine on my face, good snuggles, and sweet connection.

So.

When we got back to the house and I had the baby again I ended up being on my phone a bit, but the more I was on it, the more annoyed I got.

I have been contemplating taking myself off Facebook entirely, since the current administration and even a bit before it, I was beginning to have a lot of negative feelings about the forum.

First of all.

It’s extraordinarily challenging, I find, to see horror story after horror story, the fires in Sonoma and Napa, the mass gun shooting in Vegas, the hurricane in Puerto Rico, to name just a few, all the celebrity and musician deaths, deaths in my community and fellowship, the suicide at Burning Man, Jesus fuck, all of it and more, and then see Facebook selling me shit.

I am at once terrorized by the horror show of the world and then I am being sold some period panties, or a dress or high heels or what the fuck?

I can’t take in both information.

I can’t want to look at a pair of shoes and then feel extraordinary guilt that I can buy a pair of shoes when people in Puerto Rico haven’t had electricity for a month.

I can’t see story after story after story of women who have been raped and sexually assaulted and then see an ad for a dating site.

Fuck off.

It’s too much.

So.

When I found myself being disturbed, I put down my phone and I focused on what was happening right there in the moment.

I looked at the room I was in.

I felt the weight of the baby on my chest, his warmth and heaviness.

And then I closed my eyes.

Oh.

Why.

This is lovely!

I meditated and then.

Yes.

It happened.

I fell asleep!

I had what I like to call “naptation.”

It’s the best ever.

I couldn’t have slept more than ten minutes, a nap snack if you will, but wow, I felt so much better and refreshed and not irate at the world and upset.

I was present.

It was pretty damn nice.

Then.

Later at my office when I went into see my clients I realized that looking at social media tends to destabilize me and there have been more than a few incidents when I will be idly flipping through Facebook and see something disturbing and then I’m lost in la la land and minutes fly by and I’ve been sucked in and I’m upset now.

Well, fuck me, that’s not how I want to hold my therapy frame.

No.

I want to be calm and serene and ready and empathic to whatever my client brings in, not whatever algorithm Facebook has my feed on.

Fuck that.

So.

I deleted it off my phone.

Yes.

I do still have an account.

And I did not delete the messenger app.

I actually use that more often than one would think, especially with my classmates.

And, irony, school is one of the reasons I won’t get rid of it entirely, my cohort has a closed private group where we facilitate conversations about school and I have found the connection really important.

Facebook still has some things that I want to keep and there are friends and family that are out-of-town that I like to keep in touch with.

But.

No more on my phone.

I don’t like it and I don’t like how often I can be pulled out of the moment, out of the present, and away into something else.

I want to be present for what or whom is in front of me.

I remember when I realized that I could turn off the volume on my phone when I went to bed and not be woken up by a beep or ping or tweet.

I haven’t put my phone in night mode, except once accidentally, that was hilarious, yet, but I am close to doing that as well.

No interruptions.

Just pure sweet sleep.

I also try very hard to turn off my phone and put it away when I am with someone, I don’t like how distracting it is.

As I lean in more to being a therapist as I see what works for me and how I can better show up for friends, for those I love, for my fellowship and my clients, I lean further and further away from social media.

It was such a lot of fun, but it stopped being fun a long time ago.

When I stopped posting my blog to social media I noticed a distinct shift in how I use it and I have to say, I really don’t need the validation of people commenting on my blog from Facebook.

I missed it for a little while, but what I realized, what I have always known, is that the process of writing is what is important.

If someone gets something from what I write, well, huzzah, but ultimately, it is for me and I am grateful for that, that I kept it up and that I continue to do so and I can give a fuck about Facebook.

I think it will get along very well without me.

Probably won’t notice at all that I am gone.

And that is fine with me.

I don’t mind living under the radar.

That’s where the interesting stuff happens most of the time anyway.

Seriously.

Exhilarated

Holy shit.

That was an amazing session.

And.

It was just a consult.

But it was more than a consult, we got into it.

My client, see, I am already calling the client mine, requested that we work together moving forward.

I do have openings.

But as I don’t know the exact way the internship assigns clients I’m not sure if I request the client or that the client does that to the assistant director and the director, who decide who works with whom.

The client and I definitely made a connection and as I mentioned it went beyond just an initial intake and the hour flew by.

I was surprised that I hadn’t even once looked at the clock, it just was so full, the session.

I did tell the client that the assistant director would contact him within two weeks with the therapist that had been assigned to him.

I hadn’t even entertained the idea that he was going to ask to work with me.

But he did.

I told him I did have availability and that he should contact the assistant director as she’s primarily responsible for calendaring the clients.

I also left a note in the chart and put it in the director’s files.

So.

Yeah.

Full week of work, plus overtime and five clients seen.

Not too fucking bad.

Sort of amazed actually.

The week whipped by.

I have a full and busy weekend too.

I have packages to pick up at the post office, framed prints to grab from Cheap Pete’s, I need to do a little more grocery shopping–I managed to sneak in a foray over to Gus’s Community Market before seeing my client–and pick up a couple of wardrobe additions and get a mani/pedi/wax.

I have to go to group supervision tomorrow at 2p.m.

It does throw my schedule a bit having that chunk of time in the middle of the day on a Saturday, but so it goes.

I signed up for a yoga class in the morning before my day gets off and running.

I am hoping to do the post office and the print pick up before I head into my internship.

I will be hanging out with my fellows and doing the deal in the NOPA at 7p.m. so I have a few hours I can run errands after the internship.

Probably won’t try to cram getting my nails and eyebrows done in that time.

I like to enjoy the relaxing and not be stressed about getting to the next thing.

I have a lady I’m meeting on Sunday here at the house to do some work, but Sunday afternoon looks pretty free, which is nice, since it’s my one official day off a week.

I’m probably going to do some clothes shopping.

Having clients has definitely pushed me to flushing out my wardrobe.

I often can make what I wear to my nanny gig work for my therapy gig, I bring an extra set of shoes, typically one of my pairs of Fluevogs, and I take off my nanny shoes when I get done with my shift, and put on my therapy shoes.

It really helps me get into the role.

I have been less and less concerned about my hair or my tattoos, being well dressed, I mean, not fancy pants dressed, I did wear jeans in my session tonight, underneath a Michael Kors dress with polka dots that I scored at Crossroads, but I am polished and I think that offsets the tattoos and besides, it’s fucking San Francisco.

As a dear friend once said to me, “my therapist has pink hair and tattoos, you’ll fit right in.”

He was totally right.

I am fitting in.

It feels good to walk the halls and I am getting more and more ideas about how I want my own space to look like.

I got the pleasure of being in the best office tonight.

Really.

The best.

The director even told me that it was the room everyone wanted to work in and I feel pretty damn lucky that I get to have it, considering that I am so new at the internship.

Then again.

I have night-time sessions and I think that makes the difference.

I also don’t get this particular office all the time.

Just once a week.

But man.

It gave me some ideas.

I have been taking ideas with me from my own therapy sessions, things that work for me in my therapists space and things that don’t.

As well as from my supervisors space.

And also now from this particular office.

The director told me the woman who works out of the space used to be an interior director before she got her MFT licence.

Yeah she was.

It was fantastic.

A beautiful Eames brown leather chair.

And.

A big warm brown leather couch.

An antique globe, steam punk lights, vintage books, brown wood bookshelves, antiqued window frame mirror, big brass lamps.

She had pretty throws, big pillows and a soft sage green afghan over a low slung brown leather and kelly green fabric bench.

It was inviting and warm and generous.

I wanted to meet her after I walked in.

There was great wallpaper, black birds in bare limbed trees on brown paper.

It was just a great space.

Somethings didn’t work for me, but it gave me some ideas and I do so look forward to when I get to have my own space to practice out of.

I left the session feeling so exhilarated that I zipped home and spontaneously cooked up a batch of homemade soup in conjunction with making my dinner

It’s nice to have the smell of soup cooking in my house and also to have the week laid to rest behind me and a nice, albeit full, weekend in front of me.

So grateful for this life.

For these opportunities to serve.

To be available for it all is such a gift.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Balance

I don’t know how it actually happened.

But.

It actually happened.

I did yoga, visited a friend in the East Bay, hey y’all San Leandro is much cuter than I remember, read four chapters in my Trauma reading–officially finishing the reading for the next weekend of class, listened to a two-hour podcast for said Trauma class, roasted a chicken, and made homemade chicken soup.

What?

I didn’t drive myself crazy trying to do it either.

It all just sort of sweetly unfolded.

I got up and went to yoga and it was good and I stayed pretty present in the class, only running out the door in my brain a few times trying to figure out schedules and such, but mostly I was just there in the studio doing the yoga and breathing.

I did not want to go this morning and I almost talked myself out of it, but in the end, my body won and walked me over to the studio.

My brain was mollified by the rest it got from worrying and I felt good being in my body.

Which my brain tells me will never happen as I don’t have a 22-year-old yoga body, but I do have a 44-year-old body and there was a woman in her 60s today doing yoga, that’s what I love about it, anyone can do it, although, yes, there does seem to be a proclivity for a certain type of person to be doing yoga, I do see a lot of different ages and abilities.

Yesterday there was a woman next to me who was obviously pretty new to yoga and it reminded me how awkward and uncomfortable I was in my first weeks of classes, and it also demonstrated to me that even a woman with what I would in my twisted brains says has a “better body” than me, wasn’t able to keep up with the class and I did.

This is not a judgement, it was just good noticing on my part and it helped me see that even though I am just getting in two classes  week, I’m staying in it and I can see that I have gotten better, even when I think I never will, I have.

And that we all have different bodies, some more flexible, some less flexible, some more balanced, some less balance, and that all of us, at least in that class, are doing the best we can and we showed up.

I am grateful for showing up.

I am also grateful for going over to the East Bay and catching up with my friend.

I miss her.

It’s hard when friends move and the number of folks that I have said goodbye to who have moved out of San Francisco is challenging.

And it’s hard to stay in connection with folks, even if they are just a train ride away.

Living in the Outer Sunset makes it challenging.

I was going to ride my scooter to a BART station and park it and go over, but after yoga, I was jut too tired, and sort of loose in my brain and I thought, screw it, just grab the N-Judah train downtown and take BART from the Embarcadero.

Yes.

It did take longer than had I been on my scooter.

But.

The upside?

I had time to read!

I finished the reading for my Trauma class and was very happy to get off the train in San Leandro and see my sweet friends smiling face from her car as she drove up to pick me up.

God damn it was good to see her.

I got to see her new digs and go for a scenic drive around the hills and have yummy lunch and catch the fuck up.

She understands my conundrum quite well having gone through nursing school.

Grad school is a hard, lonely, hard, lonely, time-consuming, expensive, did I say lonely, road to trudge.

Add work into that mix and it feels like that is all I do.

Work.

Whether it is school work or work work, it feels like work.

Then I realize, maintaining relationships is work too.

And that all this work, it does pay off.

My friends’ a nurse.

I have friends who are doctors and lawyers, lots of nurses too, I know PhD’s in history, I know teachers and filmmakers, I know landscape horticulturists and creative writing professionals, I know someone at Oxford for fuck’s sake.

We have all done this to get somewhere.

The work is work and it is a joy too.

Although, I have to say I appreciate it more, this work, when I make room for the work that it takes to make sure that I am staying connected to my friends and fellows.

That might actually be the most important work there is, might, ha, it really is, these relationships are what gets me through, I couldn’t do this on my own.

I just could not.

Oh.

Sure.

Sometimes I do wish I could, but I can’t and for that I am grateful.

When I tried to do it on my own, well, I fell pretty flat.

When I began to work in concert with others in relation.

Well.

I started getting somewhere.

I want to keep connecting and reconnecting.

I want to keep that balance.

I am not sure what that looks like and for today, well, I don’t have to, I did have it, I did see my friend, I did do yoga, and homework, a lot of it, and I did meal prep, which is always important to me, I did all the things.

And they were nice.

They really.

Really.

Were.

 

 

One Dozen

Long stem blushing pink roses.

One for each year I’ve been doing the deal.

That was what greeted me this morning.

Actually.

The full moon setting this morning from my back door is what greeted me, all pearly and low hanging, incandescent in the first blush of morning.

I took out my camera and shot a few photographs.

I don’t believe that I did it any justice, that moon, that opal jewel in the dark indigo wash of sky over the ocean, but I gratefully pulled out my camera to give it a go.

That camera a gift.

Something that I can frame my world with, a poetic extension of my world view, a way to take the moment and hold it, like a poem in my mouth, a moment luxurious with depth and meaning and love.

I awoke to love.

Great love.

Outpourings of love.

Messages of gratitude and sweetness, kindness, reflection and beauty.

I felt blessed.

I felt more and more blessed as the day went on.

I had school today, my first day back in classes, first day, second semester, second year.

I had some trepidation after I was ensconced in all the readings prior to class, but by the time I was a quarter of the way into my first class I knew, this was going to be a different semester and yes, loads of work, every fucking semester has been so, it would be good, soul enriching, spirit broadening work.

I am looking forward to the semester and the learning in a way that I had felt disconnected from and dissatisfied with in my experience last semester.

Those cobwebs got blown away and I feel refreshed and re-invigorated by the work and reconnected with my cohort and really alive with the school.

Oh.

There’s still wonky crap, but what academic institution doesn’t have it’s foibles?

I had a surprising and wonderful discussion with my advisor and I have an appointment to talk to one of my professor’s about a letter of recommendation for practicum tomorrow after my morning class.

Things move a pace.

I made some executive decisions regarding where I am going to apply to practicum and I feel hopeful that those will suss out.

I had to face the fact that unless money suddenly falls the fuck out of the sky I’m probably not going to be able to do the UCSF practicum.

The program is looking for a 25-40 hour a week commitment.

And it’s not a paid internship.

Most aren’t.

But to work 25-40 hours a week on top of a full-time job and full time graduate school feels.

Well.

Fucked.

And impossible.

I had a chat with a third year student who is also in the weekend program and works full-time and he told me about where he was doing practicum.

The Liberation Institute.

Which is in the Mission and would be handy to my work and school commute.

Plus I found out after attending the workshop and practicum fair that the institute has weekend and evening hours available to interns.

Yes and yes please.

If I’m going to accrue hours and not get paid at least let them be during times that will facilitate me working full-time.

I live in San Francisco and I need to keep paying the bills.

And well, that would allow me to do it.

My current job is flexible with me having one Friday off a month to go to classes, but I can’t imagine that I would be able to work a job with benefits for less than full-time hours and the family needs me 35-40 hours a week.

There is a way forward and this may be the way.

Sure.

I’d love the acclaim of working for UCSF, but maybe this is better for me, not trying to cram so damn much into my schedule and still letting me do the deal.

Because doing the deal for the last twelve years is what has gotten me to where I am.

I would not be in graduate school if I was still out there using and drinking.

I’d be homeless.

You bet.

I’d be dirty and broken and soul less.

I might be dead.

If I were lucky I’d be dead.

But I’d probably drag along the bottom of the gutter terrorized and blank and shattered.

No thank you.

So a balance needs to be made.

I have always believed that it was of utmost importance to not put the life that I was given before the way of life that I had learned by taking the simple suggestions made to me in the very beginning of my recovery.

Simple, daily practices that keep me going one day at a time.

One hour at a time.

One fucking minute at a time sometimes.

And here.

Twelve years later.

Fierce and free and strong.

Joyful and happy.

Content and blessed.

So many gifts I have been given, so much life to live that I have been graced with.

It boggles my fucking mind.

Yes.

Yes it does.

Boggles I say.

And I know that as long as I put my recovery first.

Well.

Everything else will follow.

That’s been my experience.

When I didn’t know what to do or where to go.

I always knew where to go.

Church basements and funny rooms in the backs of odd buildings.

Holding hands with strangers that became family.

Sitting in cafes reading from blue bound books and sharing my experience, strength and hope.

How this works?

I can not tell you.

I don’t know.

I just do my best to take the suggestions given to me and to turn around and give it all away.

You can’t keep it without giving it away.

A crazy paradox of love and altruism that isn’t really so altruistic.

I mean.

I don’t want to fucking die in the gutter with a crack pipe in my hand sitting in between cars on Minna Alley on a piece of scavenged cardboard.

Been there.

Done that.

God’s got better plans.

Yes.

Thank God.

And thank you.

You know who you are and I love you more than I can possibly express here.

But when I see you on campus you know I will give you a hug and perhaps in the circle of my arms you feel just a small expression of the depth of gratitude I have for you.

I have so very much.

Yes, love.

Love.

For you.

Always.

Forever.

Bengal

Spice Girl.

He called me.

That is hella cute.

Especially as I am sitting here writing my blog with a cup of the aforementioned tea.

After a brief and totally pointless 24 hours, well, I suppose it’s not pointless as I have learned again what I had already known.

Tinder sucks.

The best thing about Tinder was matching with a lover I had already matched with and chatting.

Funny meeting you here.

You’re a hotty!

It was cute.

We chatted a little, discussed possible Halloween plans and that was that.

The rest of it was a fucking joke.

I had forgotten how many, oh so many, “nopes” there are.

I can’t do the swipe left, swipe right thing.

I tried.

I kept doing it backward.

Fucking dyslexia.

So.

I would just hit the “nope” button.

I hit it a lot.

And then the ones that I did say yes too pretty much sussed themselves out as useless as well.

Ah well.

I tried.

And then I just gave it to God.

This shit does not work.

I was off the app this morning, deleting it for the fifth time.

I think that won’t be happening again.

I did have a moment though, when I realized, I did meet a couple of decent guys on the app, one of whom I had a nice little tea date with prior to going to Burning Man.

Between his schedule and my schedule we just never seemed to reconnect.

I still had his number in my phone, I sent out a little questioning text.

And what do you know.

He’d been thinking about me.

Kismet.

We chatted a little, I made a suggestion for going out for a cup of tea and though he wasn’t available the time I mentioned, he did seem quite eager for a rain check.

He’ll be getting back to me when he gets back into town.

And until then.

I do it the old-fashioned way.

I ask them out in person.

I flirt.

I connect face to face.

It’s harder.

Oh how easy it is to get lost in the fantasy of connection that happens online, but that’s just what it is, fantasy.

Safe.

Reliable.

And oh so very, very, isolating.

I want to be of the world.

I want to be in reality land, even if it takes more effort.

In the end, the results will be worth it, I do believe.

I realized today too that I was going to give my number to a guy at Lucca Ravioli, he’s adorable and though I don’t see it going anywhere, it would be just a little tiny bit thrilling to flirt.

Besides.

I’m only in my current job until December and I can handle it if it goes south, I won’t be going to Lucca once or twice a week for the family.

I won’t be going to Lucca at all.

I almost did it today.

The shop was busy, however, and the boys were with me and I smiled and that was enough.

I got a “thank you beautiful,” from Juan though as I was paying for the cold cuts I had gotten for the family.

He always flirts.

But.

He’s sporting a wedding band.

Is it just easier to flirt with someone when you know they’re not available or you’re not available?

The safety net of the ring on the finger.

I did not, however, notice a ring on Adam’s finger and he’s always so flustered when he helps me out, over talkative and flirty, it’s very cute.

He’s a tiny bit younger than I normally go for, but whatever.

Take action.

Let go of the result.

I am not trying to figure it out.

Ha.

Just letting go and letting God.

I mean.

Serious.

I am on a runaway train toward the person I am supposed to be with.

Oh.

I’ve been derailed a little over the past few weeks, but I seem to be evening out and I’m super grateful for the experiences that I have had and now.

Well.

I feel primed.

And that’s exciting.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen.

That’s cool too.

I have plenty to keep me busy.

The never-ending stack of books that I need to be reading.

The papers I get to write.

The families I work for.

“Carmen, you’re going to be leaving us,” he said soft and sad and kissed my hand and leaned into me with all his sweet weight.

Oh goodness.

The goodbyes are already killing me with the boys I work for.

They have been very concerned about me, about where I’m going to live, even.

“Are you moving?” One of them asked me, I assured them that I was not.

Then.

I realized.

Well.

Yes.

At some point, I do want to move.

I live in a studio in-law with no windows.

Which technically is illegal.

But the back door is all glass and I get sunshine through that.

None the less, I do want more space and more light.

God more light would be fantastic.

Although I have tricked it out nicely and it’s cozy and warm and I do love it.

So.

I said, “well, eventually I will move, but just to a bigger place,” I assured him and ruffled his soft brown hair.

“I know!  You could move in with us!” He jumped up and down excited with the thought.

“You don’t have enough room sweetheart, where would I sleep?”

Not that I would actually ever, ever, ever, ever consider moving in with my employers, I like have my autonomy thank you very much.

“You could sleep in the Lego room!” His eyes got wide.

“Oh, honey, that is so sweet, thank you, but you want the space for your Legos and the new piano, well, I don’t think there’d be enough room,” I finished and gave him a huge hug.

“I’ll talk to mom and dad about it, you can stay in the Lego room, it’s perfect,” he concluded.

Oh my God.

And I have two more months of this.

I am grateful I have the time to wind it down with them and it is so nice to spend time with them, although I have to reset boundaries pretty consistently with them as I’m not as often in their lives, it’s worth it.

The love I get is so worth it.

It’s been a good week.

And it’s only Tuesday.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

It’s going to be off the hook.

Just wait and see.

 

You Know You’re Busy

When you haven’t finished the second half of Game of Thrones.

I stopped mid-way Sunday night.

I had to.

I had to put it down, I was tired, I had a long weekend and I had to be at work early Monday to do stuff for the house and the household, even though the family was still out of town.

Make the oatmeal for the boys for the week, run to Lucca Ravioli and get a pound and a half of sliced peppered turkey, make broccoli soup, make beef stew, put fresh sheets and duvets on the boy’s beds, make sure the housekeeper got in and out.

All the things.

I told a friend I ran into last night that I hadn’t finished it and he marveled at my will power.

Strangely though, I have no will power.

It just is what happened and I also know myself well enough that I like to get a certain amount of sleep.

I got it.

Which is good, my sleep last night was a little erratic.

Which happens.

So tonight, I’m sure I’ll get back to my GOT.

However, I knew I had to do the writing, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to or had anything new to say or add in regards to my week.

Well.

I mean, there’s things.

But I’m not sure how much I feel like putting out there.

Sometimes I’m transparent as fuck.

And sometimes.

Well.

I’m not.

I will admit that I have been haunting Mike Doughty’s website waiting for the tour dates to be announced for the Living Room Tour he’s on.

There’s a date in September, the 1st, that he will be here in San Francisco.

I would like to get tickets, I have a few friends who also want tickets and I’ll be buying four once the date goes on sale.

Yesterday it was not on the roster of places, but I knew through a weird round about way that he would be in SF as it was listed as a place that should you want to host a show I could have applied.

Except.

Well.

Heh.

He wants a space that can hold 35-40 people.

That’s not my place.

I mean.

I would be willing to cram that many people in my studio, but it might be a tad close quarters, I would be like, so, you’ll be playing from my bed and, um, fuck, hahaha, I love this, I just blushed.

Mike Doughty in my bed.

Whoa.

I just blushed again.

I am such a girl.

Anyway.

My studio is too small for the tour so I didn’t apply.

However.

I asked a friend and he forwarded that information to another friend.

But.

I haven’t heard anything.

Until yesterday when it popped up in my facecrack feed that there was a show here scheduled for September 1st.

A host has been found.

Well.

I do want tickets to that.

But they’re not on sale yet.

I had a wild idea to message him and ask for tickets.

“Do not be a fanboy!” My friend said when I relayed the message that I was now friends with Mike on all things facecrack.

I know.

I know.

I don’t like that thing, I don’t want to be that girl.

I would, however, like to see him.

Fingers crossed.

I’ll be able to get tickets and if not, well, then I might message him, but I won’t ask for tickets, I think I’d rather ask him out to coffee and just sit and hang out.

This is all just idle fantasy.

Just because there’s a connection on social media does not necessarily mean connection.

Although there is something there.

I’m not going to, as my friend intimated, fanboy out.

Nah.

If it happens I get tickets, cool.

I almost want them more for a ladybug of mine.

She and her boyfriend are big fans and it would be really cool to get them tickets or my friend Stark Raving Brad, since he took me to the Paul Simon concert at the Greek in Berkeley, or for all of us.

I just figure the show will sell out quick.

Last time I saw him was at the Fillmore and that was pretty packed, certainly more than 40 people in attendance, so a Living Room show will probably sell out fast.

Anywho.

The things that capture my attention, all for your reading pleasure here.

Dating.

Sex.

Making out.

Going out.

Recovery.

Doing the deal.

Not doing the deal.

NO, hahaha, I kid on the last, I’m in it hard core right now, especially since my schedule is a bit more flexible with work.

Even with my work schedule being all over the place at work, the not having to think about being in school or having homework or reading to do, except for pleasure reading–on my third book since I got out of the end of the semester and countless magazines, I’m getting a little gluttonous, but it’s super fun–I’m going to lots of church basements.

The highlight of the day, quite often.

That and getting re-connected to my friends and fellows who I haven’t seen much of this past year, and getting to rooms I haven’t been to in months.

“Are you the speaker!?” A friend asked last night.

Nope.

But god damn it was good to see faces and get hugs.

Reconnecting last night with another person I had been estranged from too and getting an amends, that was powerful.

Yeah.

I guess you could say, life is pretty damn good.

If not having tickets to a show that I want to go to is my biggest problem, well, please, life is a bed of fucking roses.

And.

I am excited.

I just received the confirmation about doing the podcast this upcoming Saturday.

I’ll be up in Noe Valley at one p.m. to get recorded, live!

Eek a mouse.

Better do some practice.

Actually.

Ha.

I should.

It’s been a little while since I have recited any of my work for a person.

Maybe I’ll see if I can get a person to sit and listen to me for a minute over this next week.

Any takers?

I’ll be in the Mission for work and out and about in the Outer Sunset.

Maybe I’ll wrangle an ear tomorrow.

I get done with work at 6p.m. and won’t be getting to my commitment until 8:30 p.m.

If you’re in the Outer Sunset tomorrow and want to hear a few poems, hit me up.

And with that.

I’m out.

I have some Game of Thrones to finish up.

Yes.

Willpower.

Hahahahaha.

None here.

Move along.

Please, seriously.

Nothing to see.

Nope.

Not a thing.

Wink, wink.

Nudge.

Fucking.

Nudge.

Heh.

 

You’re Hella Hot

And you’re not chasing after anything.

Just a reminder to myself as I almost reached out to someone to be all like, um, come over.

I don’t need to be doing that.

I am just feeling my oats.

I’m over the jet lag and the weirdo sickness I had early in the week.

And.

Fuck.

I did yoga today.

Holy shit.

That was good.

I’m probably going to be sore tomorrow, the instructor for the classes that I got to on Monday and Thursday has the sneaky way of getting us into these poses that I’m all great in the moment, then the next day I think my arms are going to fall off my shoulders.

But right now?

Fuck.

I am on fire.

Could be that I just saw a bunch of really special, awesome, amazing women.

I realized as I looked around the room, how many people I knew and loved and how many of the women in that space I had some direct connection with.

I’m pretty fucking lucky to have these ladies in my life.

Plus.

Well.

Tomorrow is Friday.

“You look good,” she said to me, “look at your legs!”

“You’ve been doing yoga,” another girl friend said, “haven’t you?”

“What happened in New York?  I haven’t been following your blog,” she asked.

I gave the dish.

There’s always a lot to dish about.

Yeah, I talk about sex and wearing my heart on my sleeve and being all transparent, but some times there’s things that only the girl friends get to hear.

“Elk Grove?  That’s too far away!”  She said, “got to get action closer to town.”

I smiled.

“And what about,” she said.

“Nope, not enough time,” I replied.

“Give him a few months,” she smiled and her eyes twinkled.

The things is.

I don’t have to do anything, I don’t have to manipulate or text or pull strings or make shit happen.

Life.

Love.

Sex.

Making out.

Dancing.

Everything, all the time, it’s happening.

I just usually need to get the fuck out of the way.

Show up, let go of expectations and see what happens.

And just because I’m feeling sassy doesn’t mean I have to act on it.

I can just enjoy the energy in my person and do some dancing in my room or you know, rub one out, not like I don’t have the equipment to take care of business.

Rechargeable like.

Cuz that’s how I roll.

I’m single and available for dating.

“You need to date a bunch of guys,” she said to me over the table at Tart to Tart, “don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

Yeah.

I know.

I can get all up on someone and be like, ok, let’s make this work.

Nope, lady, it’s just investigations.

See where things go.

I like adventure.

I get to remember that this is all an adventure.

I haven’t been much on Tinder but I’m not off the app either.

I haven’t really been asked out, well, ha, that’s not true, I just had to pause and say, no, I’m flattered, but you got to focus on  you for the time being.

And it’s not like I’m not getting some fun and flirtatious texts from another gentleman.

I’m just not getting things on my time.

Because.

You know.

I want it all right now.

NOW.

Damn it.

But that’s not how it works, never has for me anyway.

People got schedules and lives and they don’t always comply to mine.

And things change.

Life changes.

If you had told me six months ago that the person I was head over heels for was not going to be in my life anymore, no phone calls, no texts, no connections, I would have been like, what ever, that is so not happening.

But.

It was for the better.

It was pretty cool to scooter through the intersection the other day at 46th and Irving as he was crossing the opposite way in his car.

He flashed his lights and waved.

I waved back and smiled.

We went our opposite directions.

And that was that.

I totally forgot about it until I saw his room mate the other night at my thing up the street that I go to on Wednesday night.

For a second I looked around half expecting him to walk in the door and then.

Nothing.

It was gone again.

No pain.

No upset.

No thought about it.

Just calm and serene and chatting with a friend before coming home and writing and having some tea.

I’m in a super happy place right now.

I think that is a part of it.

I want to share it.

And I am.

I am sharing it with you.

The dating or the not dating or the sex or the not having sex, let’s have sex though, shall we, will happen without me pulling strings and trying to organize it.

Natural.

And fun and easy.

Because when I try to make shit happen.

Shit happens.

I’d rather remember that I am here to date the man God wants me to date.

And yes.

I know exactly how fucking hokey that sounds.

But.

God’s got my back.

I know it.

There are no mistakes in God’s world.

So.

I say.

Sit back, lady, relax, enjoy the showing up and the willingness to try and see what is to be had, to have fun, to let loose, to dance, to shake it out, to be alive.

Alive is nice.

I got a three day weekend coming up and a date for next Saturday.

My impatience is just a defect of character.

God’s time.

Martines.

All in good time?

No, God’s time.

Not my time.

Never my time.

Remember that.

Have fun.

Dress sexy because it makes me happy to do so.

And see what happens.

 

“Be the ball, Martines,” Shadrach said to me.

Words to live by.

Be the fucking ball.

I’m not here to chase.

I’m fucking worthy of the pursuit.

I’ll just be over here having a fun time until then.

Life.

Is.

Fucking.

Amazing.

Three day weekend!

Bring it.

Let Yourself Off

The hook.

He said to me on the phone as we wrapped up our Thanksgiving count down of all the stuff and things.

I am doing just that, letting myself off for the rest of the day.

It has been a day.

I did a lot of work.

I did not go eat out turkey anywhere, I stayed in.

I did make a run this morning to the SafeWay in the neighborhood, which was full of people doing that last minute scramble, and I got what I needed and I got the hell out.

I also went and filled up the gas tank on my scooter.

$2.00!

Full tank.

Got to love that.

I was planning on going out this evening and wanted to make sure she was gassed up, but I didn’t.

My plans changed and I let myself be ok with that.

The fact is I focused on doing some very necessary work for school so that I would not have to have it all on my plate before heading to Paris.

I don’t really have time week days to do sustained writing, I attempt to do a little reading every day, but I keep the big writing to the weekends.

And this being a four day weekend I knew it was going to be my opportunity to get as much done as possible.

I actually succeeded beyond my expectations.

Well.

My stated expectations.

I had a moment last night when I thought, hmm, I bet I will be able to knock out my Human Development paper faster than I am budgeting time for, but I wasn’t going to push it.  If it happened, it happened.

If not.

I would still have three more days to work on things.

As it happened, the first paper went off really well and I was done with it and had sent it to my professor by 2:30p.m. this afternoon.

I had a phone call with a friend and ate a late lunch.

I even, shocker, flipped through a W magazine.

One I have had for months and not cracked.

I figure the next time I will be looking at a magazine will be on the flight to Paris.

The rest of my time from here until there is full.

But not quite as untenable as I first felt it would be.

I got the pre-paper anxiety going well this morning and had to do a little praying to get around it but I did and I just breathed and opened up my notebook and opened up my text book and opened up my reader and looked at all the little blue flags of post-it notes and got the feeling for what I wanted to write.

I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth this morning thinking about how I was going to frame the paper and the image of the imago came to mind.

In biology, the imago is the last stage an insect attains during its metamorphosis, its process of growth and development; it also is called the imaginal stage.

Thanks Wikipedia.

I repeated the world out loud, “imago.” that’s it!

The butterfly, was the insect I was thinking of and I used it to frame the paper and it worked beautifully.

Once I had the frame work and the outline and the blue flags all waving at me with direction and purpose, it didn’t take long to hash out the paper and it felt good writing it and reflecting on the things that resonated with me.

I gratefully spell checked, edited, and proofed.

Then.

Off to the professor and the TA with a Happy Thanksgiving note and on to the next project.

I tried to do the reading for my Psychoanalytic paper and found my brain was not co-operating.  I put it on pause after reading four pages and not feeling like I retained any of the information.

I decided I would leave the house and do the deal.

I got all geared up, went outside and turned right back in.

It was too cold and too dark and I just did not have it in me.

So.

I made some phone calls so I wouldn’t feel isolated and I sent some messages out, chatted with a few ladies, called my mom, and felt connected to the world.

Then I launched into my Therapeutic Communications transcript.

Which really is not that hard to do, but time consuming, and I suppose, it would be really time consuming if I wasn’t already a fast typist.

It still took some hours and by the end of the transcription my brain felt a little loose in the skull.

I took another break and then went back into it and added the commentary that the professor requested be done and sent it off as well.

Two down.

Two to go.

I don’t know what the rest of the weekend will bring, but I have blocks of time that opened for me.

Some of those blocks have been filled with meeting ladies and doing reading and fellowship and doing the deal as it should be.

Some of that time, like now, is going to be devoted to chilling the fuck out for the rest of the night.

Maybe a French film?

To celebrate Thanksgiving!

A purely American holiday.

But one in which I felt no sense of loneliness in the work I did today to perpetuate my goals.

Rather I felt an ‘all one’ ness.

A gratitude for how it is all connected and wonderful and good and strong.

Love.

Community.

Sobriety.

Recovery.

Graduate School.

Friends.

Family.

Life.

This constant evolution of love and growth.

Thanks has been given.