Posts Tagged ‘Firewood Cafe’

The Good Enough

January 1, 2019

Paper.

I got a message yesterday as I was winding up the laundry and gathering it from the dryer at the mat up the way on Balboa.

It was a message from one of my professors.

I have already begun reading for the next semester, three of my text books have landed in my mail box, and I wasn’t really thinking anything about the message other than maybe he’d gotten my grade in early.

That was not the message.

No.

Fuck my life.

The message basically said it looks like the final paper you sent in was a draft and not the final copy and it is full of typos and ends abruptly and doesn’t answer the questions that I wanted answered and makes me wonder if you understood the scope of the material in the course.

Holy shit, what?!

I was flummoxed.

First, that I had sent in a draft?

I never do that.

I am scrupulous about doing a spell check and when he said “typos” I was really curious about what it could be.

I was also pressed for time as I was supposed to go meet up before doing the deal in the Castro and I had only so much time, not enough, surely to look up the paper and see what I had sent in and remedy it.

I scrambled my laundry home to my house, I had fifteen arguments in my head with my professor, I got upset with myself, I started thinking about the paper I had written and internally I knew, the prof was right on at least one point, I hadn’t really written a paper that was outlined in the directions.

I had deviated and written something that I wanted to.

My professor had also noted that though it was “fascinating” it didn’t address a lot of the topics that he wanted covered.

And that bit about me not understanding the scope of the material?

Well fuck off.

Did you not read all the freaking discussion posts I put up?

I mean.

Fuck.

I did substantial, 1,000 word plus discussion posts, on a weekly basis, two, three, four times a week.

I understood the scope of the fucking material.

I was mad.

I was also mad at myself.

How could I have sent in a draft?

What was I thinking?

I also had a vague recollection of actually being rather proud of the paper I had sent in, though no, it was not written in the way he wanted, it was well written and I felt that in my own way I had actually answered all the parameters of the paper.

I sent him a message and apologized for the paper, told him I had a standing appointment to meet up with my person and I had to do the deal after and then I’d get right home and get on figuring out what had happened.

I teared up a bit, I imagined I was going to have to do a load of work, my brain went right to the worst thing ever.

I was failing the class and what the fuck was I doing even bothering to try to get a PhD?

I was in over my head.

I was tired.

I didn’t want to re-write the paper, was I going to have to re-write it?

But I loved my paper, I really had liked it and I had spent more than one day on it.

Quite often I will write a paper in one shot and then edit it and send it out.

I did this one in two days, I felt like I should have been getting a pat on the back and a “how clever are you?” comment about my paper, not some insinuation that I didn’t understand the course work.

I was incensed and upset.

I cried big raccoon eyed tears when I made it to the Castro and basically wet down the table at Firewood Cafe with my weeping.

I couldn’t believe I had actually worn not just eyeliner, but also mascara and not the waterproof kind.

I looked a little beat up when I left.

I got down to it though with my person and came to the conclusion that.

1. The professor was right, I hadn’t written the paper the way he had assigned it.

2. I was being arrogant.

3. I didn’t have to get an “A” in the course.

4. All I had to do was pass the course.

5. I was fucking tired and overwhelmed and I didn’t have a whole lot in me.

So after a lot of getting humble and admitting that I may have turned in not the best paper I could, whilst also admitting that I was beating myself up a little too hard, I left the Castro, came home and looked up the paper.

OHMYFUCKINGGOD.

It was like the draft of the draft.

It was awful.

I don’t have a clue how that got past me.

All I could think was that I had updated my computer at one point and maybe that was it.

But it was true, the version I had sent to my professor was a hot mess, typos, misspellings, the last page was missing, the paper ended in a super abrupt way and I had also pasted the directions in the paper so that I could refer to it when I wanted to.

But you don’t send that in to the professor!

Ugh.

I spent some time trying to find the final draft and there wasn’t one saved on my computer.

So.

I made the decision to not re-write the whole thing, I still was holding onto the idea that I wasn’t that in the wrong with the content of the paper and he had said it was fascinating.

I cleaned it up, re-arranged a few pieces, wrote out the last page that had been missing and sent my professor an e-mail apologizing for the draft that had ended up in his e-mail.

I also defended what I wrote, but admitted that yes, he was right and I hadn’t done the paper by the guidelines he’d given.

I said if there was anything else I needed to do for the paper I would happily do it.

I sent it out and crashed out early, I was wiped out emotionally and mentally.

There was nothing in my e-mail when I woke up.

I spent much of the morning thinking that I might be spending my New Years Eve writing a ten page paper on a topic that I had basically shelved eleven days ago.

Then.

OH!

Sweet relief.

I got an e-mail this afternoon saying that he’d gotten the new copy, that he understood that it was a mistake getting the first one, that further, he understood why I had written the paper I had and that I didn’t have to do anything else, and happy new year.

HAPPYFUCKINGNEWYEAR!

Sweet Jesus.

What a freaking relief.

I don’t even care what the grade is that I get.

I am certain I will pass.

The paper was good enough.

And I can now say, with finality that this semester is over.

Which is good since I’m doing reading for the next one at this point.

Not tomorrow though.

Tomorrow is a holiday and I will treat it as such.

Grateful as all get out that I made it through this year.

It was one hell of a ride.

Seriously.

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No More Tears

June 5, 2018

What a freaking relief.

Yesterday, last night I should say, because technically yesterday was a vale of tears from morning until about 6:30p.m. when I had to pull it together to take care of my Sunday night commitment, was the first night since my landlady gave me notice that I did not cry myself to sleep.

And!

Oh.

So good.

This morning too, no tears!

I did a lot of work yesterday, and throughout the week when I think about it, to get through the fear.

A lot of self talk, a lot of letting the tears happen when they did.

Granted.

I did holler a couple of times, “stop, just stop.”

But.

For the most part, they just kept on coming.

Yesterday was by far the worst day of it.

Of course, it was pointed out to me later that I had actually time to stop and have the feelings, I have been a busy lady and not being able to do much sitting still when I did have the chance to the emotions just ran away with the house.

I cried a lot.

But.

I think it moved things along and by the time I met with my person up at Firewood Cafe I was almost cried out.

Almost.

I still cried for the first half hour or so and then I slowly started to get relief.

And perspective.

And that it was more than just the threat of losing my place, it was also the past few weeks of busy and go, go, go, graduate, and hang out with my mom, and get all my paperwork turned in so I am really done with school, and have an endoscopy, and maybe I have cancer, but probably not, but maybe, and having to terminate with a client and all sorts of stuff, it was all the things.

All the things needed to have a word with me and then did so in a grand sweeping emotional way.

I seriously thought a few times that I was hormonal, I never cry like this for this long, unless really depressed, but then I’d still be crying and that crying is a different kind then what I was doing.

The crying I was doing was all fear based.

Not so much sadness based.

Fear based and anger based.

I have had some angry moments, let me tell you.

But it got worked out and the more I talked, cried, muddled through, the easier it seemed to be until by the time I walked into the basement of Most Holy Redeemer to take care of my Sunday night gig I was almost wholly myself.

And then!

Oh.

My old friend from my early days in recovery came prancing into the room with another dear friend and it was so good to connect and reconnect and catch up.

She’s been living in London for the last seven years, New York before that, and it was her first time back to SF in ten years.

I mean.

It was good to see her.

And hear her.

And then go out and hang out afterwards with all the friends and people and go to La Meditereanee and have some good food and laugh and get perspective.

I also heard so much advocacy for me getting to be taken care of and that there is abundance and that I do deserve it.

I sometimes forget that.

All the time.

That I am allowed to embrace abundance.

So.

My attitude changed and I began to see this whole thing as an enormous gift.

Oh.

Like many gifts I have received I did not like the wrapping paper it came in, and I have wanted to give it back, but there it is, in my lap, begging to be opened, to be revealed.

More will be revealed.

There’s always more to learn.

I get to take this situation as an opportunity to grow and to manifest what I want in a living situation.

I also get to take this as a chance to let my voice be heard, to not be run over by the circumstances, to advocate for my rights.

I listened again to the voicemail of the woman from the SF Tenant’s Union who reached out to me the day prior to my going in to the drop in session and was assuaged again to hear that what is happening is not legal and I have loads of rights.

She reiterated a bunch of them and I found comfort in that.

I know my rights and I get to speak up for myself.

Not something I have always done.

Not something that I am great at.

But fuck, what an opportunity to learn.

So.

I’m going to get to learn about something new and in the process I will find a new place to live and it will be done with grace and dignity.

At least on my part.

My part is all I’m responsible for anyway.

Speaking of my part.

And taking responsibility.

I have filled out my BBS (Behavioral Board of Science) application for my AMFT#!

Yesterday I got passport photos taken so that I can turn in a recent photo to the BBS.

All I need to do now is get LiveScanned fingerprinting done.

I will be doing that on Wednesday.

The hope is to have it all taken care of and ready to send into the BBS by Saturday.

It was strongly suggested that I send it in registered mail and insure it and track it and make sure it gets signed for.

So a trip to the post office before my internship on Saturday.

It’s a really exciting thing.

Once the BBS gives me my AMFT# I will officially be able to take payment for my therapy sessions.

At which point I will be transitioning from my current internship to my private practice internship.

I am really excited.

It feels so nice to have positive, forward motion actions happening.

And though I do not know how long this hallway of uncertainty is in regards to where I live next.

I do believe.

With all my heart.

That is will be fucking fabulous.

Seriously.

Opt Out

April 16, 2017

I was going to go out tonight, not like crazy out, just out to dinner with the folks after doing the deal.

But.

I decided to come home, cook dinner here, and get the rest of my things organized.

I have a load of school work to handle in the next few weeks.

I was able to organize some friends of mine to help me re-do the Couples Therapy dyad that I did at school last weekend but somehow failed to get a proper recording.

I will be taking care of that tomorrow, making sure that the recording is doing just that, recording, and then I have a paper to write.

I will most likely do the Couples Therapy paper first.

It is the first that is due.

And, of course, rain is in the forecast for tomorrow, so no scooter.

I will need to MUNI or take a car to meet my people up at Firewood Cafe tomorrow, I don’t really care though, I am just so happy that I was able to get a couple of people to help me.

It has been a little stress that I can now put behind me, get the session recorded and then get on with the paper.

I did realize the day before yesterday too, that my Trauma class still has some reading due for the next weekend of classes.

So.

I may just use the MUNI train rides as an opportunity to be sitting still in one place and doing the reading.

I did manage to get a chapter read of the material in between my job and doing the deal on Friday, but I have some more to do.

I think I may actually be able to knock it out by the time I do all the MUNI train rides.

I may also say fuck that and just take a car share.

I’m not too anxious, but I have to focus on getting the work done, I have to.

I only have a few weeks to do it and I want to be staying on top of it.

I basically have to write a paper each weekend, starting tomorrow, one per weekend up until the last weekend of classes.

I was joking with a friend today that it makes absolutely no sense to me to go to the last weekend of classes, since all my papers will be due the first day of classes, what’s the point of doing the full three days?

I mean.

Seriously.

I already know I will go and participate, mostly because I just really love my cohort and I have gotten really close to a few of my friends there.

I get to have a slumber party with one of my girl friends who’s going to stay over night at my place the Thursday night before classes so we can spend time together.

It’s super nice to have that.

And.

Sometimes I also have to take me time.

I had a few other things I opted out of doing today and though I miss the people and the friends, I really needed to do some self-care.

I went to yoga this morning.

I met with a ladybug and did the deal.

I went grocery shopping and made plans for what I will cook tomorrow.

I mean, a paper calls for me to make soup.

I am going to try something new tomorrow–hot and sour soup with shrimp, bok choy, carrots, hen of the wood mushrooms, crimini mushrooms, and tofu.

I had a bowl of really good hot and sour soup last weekend at an anniversary dinner for a friend and I realized, I can make this!

And so, I’m going to try.

I am actually pretty damn pleased with the stuff in my pantry right now.

Healthy, clean, lots of veggies and fruit, top grade high-end espresso, unsweetened coconut milk, organic tea.

Yeah.

It’s looking good.

Once I busted out the shopping I also busted out the laundry and cleaned up my closet.

I got a bag of stuff to sell, which became a bag of stuff to donate.

I only sold two of the articles of clothing, which happens sometimes, but I ran the rest of the stuff over to Good Will and happily made a donation.

It felt good to clear some space and tidy up my stuff.

I also took a dress to get altered that I ordered a while back, but the bodice is wonky on it, everything else fits perfect, but the bodice was actually too big.

Which is hella unusual.

I wear a 38 D.

Anyway, super happy I took care of that errand.

And.

Yes.

Finally.

I got a god damn mani/pedi and my eyebrows waxed.

I can always tell how busy I am by the state of my nails.

I was just too busy the last three weeks to attend to them, I didn’t have a speck of time to deal with them, two year previous, when I wasn’t in school, I was pretty on point, every week a manicure, every three weeks a mani/pedi/eye brow wax.

Now.

I’m like, oh my god, what just happened to my eyebrows and what the fuck are my nails doing.

If I get in once a month it’s a big fucking deal.

Plus it’s a time suck.

I mean.

I love my girl time.

But to take two hours, sometimes two and a half, depending on how busy the salon is, is a huge amount of luxury time.

I missed seeing a friend who came into the city, but I really needed my self-care, I needed to do my things and I’m ok with it.

It’s finding a balance.

I don’t always do it well, but I try, I give it a persistent, concerted effort.

I talked to another friend on the phone and we’re going to try to get together sometime soon as well.

Ugh.

It’s hard.

Another reason for opting out tonight was the person I was supposed to meet up with at the 7p.m. deal, called and cancelled last-minute, a close friend had to go and put down her dog.

So.

I had not much pull to go to dinner, then I thought, well, this might be good, get home, get your alarm set for an early start, get your stuff organized, and go to bed early.

I mean.

Not super early.

But earlier than I would have had I gone out to dinner, fact is, I’d still be out right now, I’m grateful that I chose this, I will choose socializing again, I promise.

I will catch up with friends.

I will.

I won’t always opt out.

I opted out of a date for tomorrow night.

Oh.

Did you catch that.

Yes.

I opted out of a date because I have to write this paper.

But.

There is a date still happening.

Another night this week when I have a tiny bit of breathing space after doing work and speaking at the spot, so we’re going to go grab a bite Thursday.

Yeah.

Heh.

I got the phone call back.

And I was right.

There is a connection.

And there was a good reason why the return call took the time it did.

Not to get into details, but it made sense and I’m intrigued to see what happens.

But that’s neither here nor there, focusing on right now.

A brief respite and a cup of tea.

The final push for the semester starts very.

Very.

Very.

Soon.

Like in less than twelve hours.

Here we go.

See you on the other side.

Night y’all.

Sweet dreams and all that.

Sugar cube.

Jazz.

The Last Piece

March 24, 2017

Falls into place.

And like that.

I have secured all the things that I need to have to start my internship in May.

Yes.

Today I had a phone interview with a potential therapist.  We have been in contact for a little over a week via e-mail, she was referred to me by a woman in my cohort at school and I had contacted her about getting into therapy with her.

As part of my program I must have 50 consecutive weeks of therapy while I am in supervision and taking on clients as a new therapist.

It makes complete and total sense, although I’m not real thrilled about the additional cost of school, now I get to pay for a therapist out-of-pocket, but I am happy to have the final piece settled out.

Her first response was a no, she couldn’t work with my time frame, but a few more back and forth emails and a spot became available.

We had made a time to talk today on the phone and I wasn’t going to get myself too psyched up about it, I figured I might have to interview a few therapist.

But.

She was lovely.

And.

She happened to have gone through the same program that I did five years ago and so can really support me as I move forward through the same process.

I am also, oddly I want to add, but in a moment of reality check, maybe not so oddly, excited about getting to be back in therapy, I have known for a while now, ever since getting back into school, that I need to go back and do some more work.

There are issues to address, traumas to heal, wounds that need opening to air out and to re-heal properly.

And I am ready to do that work.

Especially since it is work that will support me becoming a better therapist for my clients.

I start on Tuesday.

I will meet with her Tuesday mornings at 9:30 a.m. for an hour and then head in to work at 11 a.m.

Super grateful that she is convenient to work as well, I work up in Glen Park and she is in Noe Valley, maybe a five-minute, ten minute tops, scooter ride from her office to my job.

Now if I can just relocate to the Eastern side of the city I will be set.

I love my little studio by the sea, don’t get me wrong.

But.

Check it out.

I work in Glen Park just on the border of Noe Valley.

I have an internship starting in May at 18th and Treat–I’ll be there five days a week.

I have a supervisor I have to see once a week at Fell and Gough.

School is at Mission and 10th.

My new therapist is in Noe Valley at 24th and Church.

And where do I live?

44th Ave and Judah.

Get me back to the Mission please.

Not that I want to move, necessarily, I am cozy here and moving sucks, but fuck, look at the logistics of it, it would make such better sense for me to be closer to work and school endeavors.

I’m keeping it on the back burner.

I’m not actively engaged in looking, but if the right thing happens, I’ll bounce.

I am grateful that all the school and work stuff is located relatively close together, that will make it a bit easier for me.

And there is time to get used to all of it.

I have time.

Things definitely feel like they are gaining momentum though.

I still need some signatures on my paperwork, but all that will happen at school.

In fact.

I am just going to take a moment here and hop over to my Gmail account and e-mail my advisor in regards to making sure I can get that paperwork dealt with.

There.

That feels better.

I am super happy to have it all come together.

I am still going to need to do plenty for the rest of the semester.

I have two weekends of classes yet to go before the semester ends, one in April and one in May.

I have to write one paper for the April weekend and I have three papers due for the May weekend.

Plus, of course, the mountains of reading.

I have been taking my Couples Therapy with me to work all this week and knocking out what I can when I can.

I am so in love with my job and the fact that I have had a solid hour for my lunch, with no interruptions, to sit, eat, have some tea, and then read for a half hour every day (well, except Monday, I had both the older kids at the house) this week.

It is such a huge gift and as I was expressing to my person tonight as we had dinner at Firewood Cafe in the Castro, how lucky I am to be in this job.

Shit.

I sat and listened to jazz and looked out over the bowl of San Francisco as it spilled toward the bay and ate organic fruit from BiRite and sipped my favorite tea at work.

I also have to juggle crazy monkeys on the MUNI, so it is good that I have that down time to regroup and get quiet.

It has been a big year for me already, and it’s just March.

The new job, the new experiences with school, the interviews for internships and supervisors and therapists, all the showing up, all the walking through, it’s been big.

I am super grateful that I have the support and love I do.

And that I have done a lot of my own personal work to move forward.

Some of which I have written about here.

And.

Quite a bit that I have not.

I find that the closer I come to having real world clients, the more and more I have to focus on my self, who I am, and not about who I am engaged with or hanging out with.

Sure.

I’d love to blog some about dating and wild adventures.

But that’s not been on the menu at the moment.

School, life priorities, work, re-connecting with friends.

The rest will follow and the time will go by quick and I will find myself looking back on the other side with complete wonderment.

As that’s how I’m currently looking at it all right now.

In complete awe.

Look at how far I’ve come.

A long, fucking way, baby.

Such.

A.

Long.

Way.

And I Made It

January 16, 2017

Through the first weekend of the second semester.

Whew.

I was tired.

I am tired now.

Of course, I also have some adrenalin, which naturally seems to arrive at the times when I might wish to be winding down.

As opposed to the middle of my Trauma Class or towards then end of my Couples Therapy class when I was so sleepy I didn’t know if I was going to make it awake the rest of the day.

I was at that point when caffeine stops working and the tiredness was kicking in and it was touch and go and sort of woozy and sleepy and dreamy.

And then class ended and I got zipped up and a bit more energy as I got outside and out of the school and into the air.

I met with a few friends from my cohort at Reveille Coffee in the Castro, then on up to Firewood Cafe for dinner and fellowship and then doing the deal in a church basement up the road.

It was good.

It was really good.

I saw lots of folks that I don’t get to see often enough.

I got lots of hugs and asks for dinner and coffee.

I found out one friend and his mom are going to be in Paris at the same time that I am and we made plans to chat about that, I can be the tour guide he never got.

His first visit was supposed to be when I was living in Paris and we just missed each other.

I love touring people around Paris, makes me happy, especially those friends that don’t speak French, I love being of service, makes me feel useful.

So that was lovely.

And just the feeling.

To be seen, to be witnessed to take a moment and acknowledge love, struggle, surrender, doing the deal, showing up.

All of it.

And to get to be showing up for the rest of my life as well.

Like my new job tomorrow, I got a sweet text from the new mom asking after my weekend and also that I make a slight change to my schedule, which I am happy to accommodate, so that the oldest boy and I have a solitary date to go to the Academy of Science.

Super excited.

I’m a dork like that.

I love field trips.

And that I get to have the oldest on a solitary field trip means we get to do a little bonding.

I think that will be quite fun.

Plus it’ll be nice to ease back into the week and the new family and the new schedule.

Tomorrow is a holiday, not for me, but for the school, and so it’s nice to have something already planned and something to do outside of the home will be fun.

I’m happy I’ll also get another hour of sleep tomorrow.

I am ready for it.

I am grateful for the time in school this weekend, albeit feeling some stress about getting my practicum stuff together, I know it’s all falling into place.

I do need to make some proactive steps around it this up coming week and weekend and I’ll start in on my reading for the next semester here pretty quick.

Probably not tomorrow, but soon.

There’s a lot to cover in between the weekends of class.

I do like to give myself a little down time after a weekend of classes, but I also like having the reading on tap and completed for the next weekend and there’s so much that a little bit really has to be done on a pretty regular basis.

Plus.

One of my classes, Community Mental Health, I have to go out in the field and interview a clinician and gather data and do a lot of extra work, which, when the fuck am I going to do that as I’m working business hours and most community mental health programs are not open nights and weekends, but I get to work on that and ferret out some place I can go and talk to a clinician in a diverse community setting.

This is the semester of getting really prepared in the next steps for interning, getting into the community, starting to practice the craft that I have been learning, not just in school, but in my life.

I am absurdly grateful for this and I am astounded when I think about how it all came to be and where it is all going.

Well, I don’t know exactly where it is going, but it is exciting.

And it’s exciting to think that maybe, just maybe, my nanny days are coming to an end.

Oh.

I don’t think it will be for a few more years yet, but there is something really exciting about being with this new family and getting to have a job that could spell out longevity to match the end of my program and the work that I will have to do when I am interning and collecting my hours towards MFT licensure.

3,000.

Just a few.

I’m not there yet.

I am, however, happy to report that another few small steps have been successfully taken down that path.

I know that those little steps, one day at a time, add up so much faster than I could ever realize.

“Didn’t you just start this program?” She asked me with a hug, “and look at you now, already into your second year!”

It feels interminable at times, slow, and sticky and the long classes and the huge reading lists.

And then it seems like, wow, she was right, two years ago this time I had just sent off my application for the school.

Two years later I’m half way through the program and looking down the line.

A possible PhD in Psychology.

A career as a therapist.

A teacher in the community.

A helper.

A giver.

A worker amongst workers.

A friend.

All the things.

So grateful for it all.

So, very, very grateful.

Seriously.

You’ve Lost Weight!

December 16, 2016

The counter woman at the postal office said to me today as I dropped off the last Christmas package that needed to go in the mail.

“Thanks, yes, I thought it was starting to show a little,” I smiled.

“You look great!”

That was a nice way to start my day.

Especially since I haven’t really lost weight.

Although, I am looking smaller, I’ve been doing so much yoga, signed up for a class tomorrow morning, because I still can before my schedule at work completely up ends and I have to figure out how I will make time with the new job, I haven’t, in fact, lost weight.

I’m just tighter, stronger, and my posture is a lot better.

I can feel it when I walk and I do feel lighter in my body, even though the scale said otherwise.

I don’t like using a scale, it’s a number that has a lot of connotations attached to it that aren’t mine and they don’t serve me.

But looking in the mirror, I do, in fact, see a slightly smaller body and I definitely feel stronger in my person.

And that’s nice.

“Have a good night kiddo,” the Uber driver said to me as he dropped me off tonight.

So much rain, I was not taking my scooter out in it today, so a ride to work, a ride to meet my person at Firewood Cafe in the Castro after work and a  ride home, good thing I’m selling back some books tomorrow!

I leaned back into the car, “thanks for saying that, I turn 44 on Sunday! Have a great night!”

My driver waited while I got into the front gate of my house, then leaned out the window, “you look amazing, you do not look 44!  You’re still a kiddo.”

Thanks man.

Hey, I’m single too.

hehe.

Anyway.

The yoga, it shows.

And I am grateful to be doing it especially as the holidays, though jolly, can at times be a little melancholic for me.

I don’t think I’m alone in that.

That being said, I am super happy to have the family and fellowship and friendships that I have and I am realizing where I need to cultivate them, those relationships, and where I need to let them go.

“You are like me,” my person said tonight, “one act of kindness and forever in the other person’s debt.”

Oh.

Damn.

So true.

Things are changing internally and some relationship changes are occurring and have been occurring and I realized that I could be grateful for the time I have had with people, with relationships, and not have to hold onto them or force them to work.

The only relationship I really need to cultivate is one with myself.

And others will follow.

Being respectful to myself, loving myself, taking care of myself, it shows and it’s nice to give it back to the world.

“We’re going to miss you around here,” the girl at the register said to me today as I picked up a few extra supplies for the dinner I made the family tonight–lobster, corn, sushi rice, and teryaki roast salmon.

Yeah.

Like that.

“Do you like lobster,” my employer asked me today when I was going down the list of things to do and cook and make.

Um.

YES.

My boss had picked up three and it was a lobster boil tonight.

I haven’t had it in a little while.

I even clarified the butter.

Damn Gina.

It was good.

I had to dash out in the rain to the corner market and get some extra ingredients and had a sweet chat with the woman who works the register and wished her happy holidays and told her about leaving my current job and moving over to the Glen Park neighborhood.

The aforementioned complement and a request that I not forget them and come in for a visit once in a while.

I loved that.

It feels so nice to be appreciated, to be seen, to be acknowledged.

Although I don’t act nice for the acknowledgment of it, or for accolades, it just feels better to be thoughtful and kind.

Heck.

I even got a hug from my yoga instructor today.

He’s become a favorite of mine during the week and I won’t be able to take his classes anymore since my job schedule is changing.

Today was my last Thursday morning class.

He commiserated with me about my schedule and school and said he was really going to miss having me in class and he hoped that I would stick with the yoga.

I am sticking.

I just don’t know what it will look like.

Story of my life.

I don’t know what anything is going to look like anymore.

Which, really, if I admit it, is rather a relief.

I like surprises.

I just know that I am going tomorrow and after that I will take a shower, make coffee, eat breakfast, and go sell back my books.

Then work.

Then the big paper on Saturday.

That is sort of all my focus at the moment.

Get through work.

Get through this paper.

There will always be something to work on, to do, to be, to become, so I also wish to just stop and acknowledge that it was a hard day, work had some challenges I didn’t really feel like writing about, and I’m grateful for every moment, because I keep learning about what I want and don’t want, in relationships, in employment, in school, in life.

It’s good stuff really, even the challenging stuff I can be grateful for and when I look back over the arc of the day I could complain about the difficulties, but really, when I was treated so warmly, so kind, with sweetness and compliments, and well, love, why the fuck would I bother to focus on the negative?

No thanks.

Today was a good day.

And I’ll end on that note.

Because.

Well.

lt was.

 

 


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