Posts Tagged ‘George Michael’

That Moment When

March 15, 2017

You realize that had you known how much fucking work it would be you wouldn’t have embarked on the god damn journey.

Fucking grateful as fuck that I did not know it was going to be this hard.

I wouldn’t have decided to do it.

Granted.

I do know that with time will come familiarity and it will be ok.

But right now.

Just in this moment.

Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

So much work.

I met with my new supervisor for my internship.

We filled out the paperwork.

We talked about what I need to do next.

Turn in the paper work to my advisor, get his signature, then turn it into the practicum office.

Then.

I need to get another supervisor to take me through process of being an intern.

I will find the person on my own by using the supervisors list that is in the practicum office.

Then I need to get that person to sign some paperwork and I need to get registered for the summer course.

I need to do this fairly damn quick.

And I need to make sure that the supervisor can be someone who I can fit into my schedule, I’ll have to meet with the off site supervisor two hours a week.

In between that.

I will be working and I will be interning.

My supervisor and I set a date.

I start on May 22nd.

That’s the official paperwork date, but I’ll probably go in on the 23rd as I will be getting back from Paris on the 21st.

I’ll be going into work either way at my job on the 22nd.

My supervisor was sweet though, and said, “I’ll let you get over your jet lag, let’s just have you start the 23rd.”

And I will be starting with a bang.

And I will be doing a lot of hours.

Which I knew.

I knew.

Just the reality of it hit when he was asking me what my optimum schedule was like.

“Think about it for a minute,” he looked up from the paper work he was filling out for me, “but I will need to put it in the paperwork so you can go to the next step.”

I gave it a moment.

I took into account my current work schedule, my recovery schedule, wanting one day off a week without any kind of obligation and what would that mean for getting the hours in I needed to make the time investment.

My supervisor wants 13-15 hours a week, part of which will be a few hours of mandatory training, but mostly taking clients.

Plus.

My off site supervisor will need 2 hours.

And.

I will need to get a therapist as well for a year while I go through the process.

That’s an additional hour.

So.

Um.

Fuck me.

That’s basically 15-18 hours of work a week.

I took a great big deep breath and figured I would need to be there at the internship four days a week.

I decided to do it like this: Mondays and Tuesdays 6:30p.m. to 9:30 p.m.

Wednesdays and Thursdays same hours, 6:30p.m.-9p.m.

And Saturdays from 2p.m.-8p.m.

That’s the time estimate breakdown.

It won’t start out quite that big and I will have a bit of wiggle room for the first few weeks and I’m super grateful that I’m getting into it before the fall semester of school starts.

Because, yeah, I need three semesters of practicum.

Which means that on top of work and the internship, one year of my interning I’ll also be in school full-time.

Granted the course load for the third year is eased up to accommodate practicum.

But still.

So much.

I’ll basically be doing a 60 hour work week and school.

Bwahahahahahaaha.

Fuck my life.

The upside is that I will have accumulated over 800 hours by the time I graduate.

We can take up to 1300 hours, but I cannot fathom what kind of fresh hell it would be to incorporate another 500 hours into the routine.

No.

I mean.

I am already thinking about what is going to need to be cut out.

Will I have to stop blogging?

Maybe.

Or doing my morning writing?

Maybe.

I can’t say quite yet, but I do know this lady won’t be socializing for a year.

Sigh.

Super grateful.

So grateful that I am going to Paris after the semester ends.

So grateful I get to go to Burning Man.

I am assuming I’m getting a ticket, I got the time cleared with my supervisor as well, who told me that it will be a great tool to use when I get to tell a client that has gotten attached that I am going to take a vacation.

He also told me that once I’m up and running he foresees me taking about 10 clients a week.

TEN!

He also relayed that as I am available to take clients at night I will have a full dance card pretty quick.

That most clients want evening hours or weekend hours.

That the site already has a wait list for clients!

He also said that he would work with me to help me get my hours and that I he would make sure of it.

He even told me that he wished I was coming on board sooner, they had a client he felt that I would be particularly helpful with.

That was nice to hear.

I am grateful for the opportunities.

I am scared.

But.

No where neared as overwhelmed as I was this morning when I was contemplating how it was all going to happen and how was I going to navigate the next moves when I wasn’t even sure what the next fucking moves were.

I was strangled with fear this morning.

Anxiety my old friend.

But.

I did a lot of reaching out.

I called all my people and I called a friend in my cohort who talked me off the ledge.

God damn am I lucky to have the resources I have.

I am also really fortunate that after the paperwork was all sussed out and the schedule, that I was able to do a twenty-five minute interview of my supervisor for my Community Mental Health final project.

I got all the information I needed.

I also recorded the whole thing as well as taking notes, procuring brochures, and asking all the pertinent questions and then some.

I’m not going to write the paper this next weekend.

I’m going to let myself have the weekend “off,” but I will probably start it the following.

The other thing that is going to make this all work, the thing that I am so very grateful for right now, is my job.

I have down time.

Not always.

But enough.

Enough to pause, catch my breath, pray, talk to my people, leave messages, connect, and to do homework.

I got a chapter and a half read in one of my Trauma books today.

I read a chapter and a half yesterday in another book.

Three chapters done while I’m at work.

I am good at time management, I will be able to do this and it won’t be forever.

I remind myself.

I get to do this.

And I get to be of service.

Faith.

I got faith.

Heaps and bunches.

Baby.

‘Cause I gotta have faith
I gotta faith
Because I gotta to have faith, faith
I gotta to have faith, faith, faith

Yup.

Like that.

Sleep won’t hurt either.

Ooh.

Sleep.

Drool.

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Cozy Little Christmas

December 26, 2016

I was talking to the moms earlier and she expressed how sad she was that I was alone at Christmas.

I assuaged her.

I almost laughed, I haven’t felt lonely, despite, yes, spending the majority of the day alone.

I never felt lonely.

Sleepy occasionally.

I actually napped.

A lot.

I don’t nap often and it always feels rather epic when I do.

I blame the malingering cold.

Not enough to knock me completely flat, but definitely, defiantly still there, sitting on my chest with a nasty proprietorship that I am about done with.

Ha.

I foil you cold.

I signed up for a yoga class tomorrow, get out of my body.

I figure one more big night of sleep and some warming up and stretching will make me feel a lot better.

I didn’t get to the studio at all this past week, the weird hours at work, the onset of the cold, the holiday stuff, I got behind and nothing quite worked with my schedule.

Speaking of schedule.

I have been in contact with the new family I will be starting with on January 2nd and since I’m in town this week I’ll be meeting with them to go over the stuff and things and sign my new contract.

It’s for reals.

I am grateful for the week off.

Even with the stupid cold.

I will go to the MOMA.

I may go the DeYoung and the Legion of Honor too,  haven’t been to either in a while.

Maybe one day a ride over to Sausalito too on the ferry, it’s been a while since I have done that as well.

And as I let myself listen to a last few Christmas carols I really am reflectively happy.

Yes, I had other plans.

And I’m ok with the change of them.

I’m not upset that I spent Christmas by myself.

I’m good company.

Really good company.

I got myself a new dress for Christmas.

Oh god damn it’s cute.

From Hell Bunny.

Thank you Christmas bonus.

I don’t think it will get here in time for New Year’s but it might, not that I don’t have a dress, I did let myself get a dress from Ambiance the other day.

Two dresses at Christmas, so nice to do for myself.

I had a nice morning writing and drinking cafe au lait.

I opened cards and gifts from family and I talked to my mom on the phone and chatted and messaged with other friends and dear hearts.

I made turmeric spiced garlic brown rice and I roasted a pork roast.

Oh my god.

The roast.

I very infrequently buy pork or steak, it’s just spendy for me and if I get meat, I typically get a chicken, I can stretch a chicken into a weeks plus worth of meals, but you know, Christmas.

So I picked up a pork roast at the SafeWay the last time I shopped.

And what with the Adobo my darling friend gave me from Puerto Rico and the persimmons Santa sent me, fuck me, I made an amazing pork roast.

I seasoned it with sea salt, black pepper, the aforementioned Adobo, Spike, a tiny bit of tarragon and then slow cooked it for an hour and a half.

While it rested I made the rice.

Then I sliced up some persimmon, layered them over the top of the roast, added a tiny bit more salt, and yes, raw organic cocoa.

While the rice was cooking and the roast was resting I went for a walk down to the beach.

The waves were heavy and crumbling and loud.

There were a few folks out with their pups and one surfer trying to paddle out past the break.

I walked for a while.

Then perched in the dunes above the beach.

I was not sad.

I am not sad now.

I reflected, rather, that I have done a lot for myself, with the help of a lot of friends, over this past year.

I dis-entangled myself from a love relationship that was woefully not working.

I went to New York in May and saw all the art and things and friends.

I went to New Orleans and saw all the art and the things and made new friends.

I went to Burning Man, briefly, yes, but I went and saw all the art and the things and made new friends and saw old friends.

I rode my scooter all over the city.

I mean all over.

I successfully got through the first semester of my second year in a three year graduate school program.

I saw Mike Doughty and Paul Simon live.

I started doing yoga.

I finished a two year plus job with grace and love and got referred kindly to my next position with rave references.

I comported myself pretty damn well.

I told lots of people I love them.

I do, you know.

I sat up in those dunes happy with myself, alone, but not lonely and it struck me so resolutely how lonely I felt last year at Christmas with the man I was in love with and then the year prior with an old boyfriend, alone on Christmas as he chose to spend it with another.

I was not in pity for myself, I remember walking that same stretch of beach tears running down my face, in a white dress, my hair in braids, the wind so cold, the sun bright, brilliant, but cutting.  I took a picture of myself in the dunes that year and all the responses were the same, my god how beautiful and all I could think was my God, I’m in a relationship and alone on Christmas, my God how lonely I am.

Alone.

But not lonely this year at Christmas.

I came home from my happy gambol along the beach and lovingly put the roast in the over to sear at a high temp for a half hour and carmelized the persimmons and my goodness, my house may have never smelled better.

I read for a while then pulled out the roast and dug in.

It was beyond description.

So good.

And I had saved a Rau Raw Chocolate drink to have with it.

Best Christmas dinner ever.

Seriously.

I had a sliced persimmon after dredged in sea salt and raw chocolate, cinnamon and nutmeg, and a big mug of Bengal Spice tea with cashew milk.

I was full and happy and warm and cozy.

I read for a little while longer, so many wonderful new pleasure reading things to get through, then.

I had a thought.

My how nice a nap might be.

So.

I did.

Merry fucking Christmas.

I curled up underneath my grandma’s afghan and watched the Christmas tree.

I drifted off, warm, safe, held.

Wrapped up in love.

Alone?

Yes.

Lonely, no.

Loved and taken care of.

Loving to myself and to others.

The best Christmas miracles are always the little ones.

Seriously.

So, mama, don’t be sad that your baby was alone on Christmas.

I had a beautiful day and when I reflect on all the people who love me.

Well.

I am surely blessed.

So very much so.

Wishing you and yours the same.

Always.

And.

Forever.

 

 

Last Christmas I gave you my heart.

But the very next day you gave it away.

This year I’ll give it to someone special.


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