Posts Tagged ‘home work’

It’s Been A Day

January 9, 2017

And I haven’t left the house.

Well.

I tried.

I thought about it.

I was going to.

Then.

I didn’t.

I took care of all things domestic and necessary–laundry, cooking, food prep, cleaning.

I took care of all things personal and grooming.

Even knowing that I might end up spending the entire day indoors I still got up, took a shower, did my hair, my it looks fine, and even put on make up and a cute outfit, because, well, I like to dress for myself.

And I was to have a visitor and I like to be nicely put together when I have people over.

I am so glad she and I met.

It’s been about a month since we sat down and did the deal, it was so good to get caught up and hear about her life and listen and be present.

Such a gift, that, being present for another, no expectations, just me here at the table reading a few words from a blue bound book and listening to fears and love and faith and joy and happiness and challenges.

Getting to share what I have gone through, knowing my experience can be of service, that nothing, and I do mean nothing, is wasted, that every moment, triumph or painful fall, has meaning and can be shared with another.

My life has meaning.

That is a great gift to know.

My greatest assets are my experiences and knowing that another can make use of them is incredible.

So there was that and it was good.

Then there was the overwhelming feeling of it wasn’t enough.

That I wasn’t enough, that I hadn’t gotten enough done, that I had left too much undone during my vacation time.

Meaning.

FUCK ME.

I am already behind on my school work.

Fuck me.

I mean.

Holy shit there is a lot more reading than I thought there was.

I really took a look at my syllabi today.

And get this.

I did read an entire book yesterday on the train.

Granted, it was a small book, only 87 pages, more a pamphlet than anything.

But.

Shit.

I did not see the rest of the syllabus readings until today.

Whoa.

There was a lot of reading there.

I also, before the discovery that I wasn’t nearly far enough along, done a bunch of reading for my Trauma class.

Maybe 90-100 pages.

I only have one of the books yet, so I read what was assigned from that book.

I need to read about another 150 pages between two other text books for that class and at this point I am just hoping I get them in the mail this week.

Just to have them.

I mean.

I have plenty of other reading to keep me going.

I had been warned by two of my friends in the cohort that the reading for the first weekend of Couples Counseling was beyond the pale.

I didn’t think much of it until I look up the work after kicking through what I could of the Trauma class.

Holy fucking shit.

Whoa.

I mean.

Does this teacher realize that we have other fucking classes this weekend?

Good gravy man.

Fuck you.

I texted a friend and just sort of lost it, what the hell is up with ___________ class?

We commiserated about the amount of reading and that the reader wasn’t available yet, so he’d sent a fuck ton of downloads to the class to read.

I am not great about reading on a computer screen, it’s super hard for me and I also knew that I wouldn’t get through all the reading unless I was able to take it with me and read a little here and there while waiting for the train, or on the train.

Fucking weather.

Fucking fuckedy fuck fuck fuck.

The storm is also why I didn’t really get out.

I didn’t need to, I had done all my shopping and errands previous to this weekend because of the impending doom of the storm.

And it was big and is still going on.

I was going to leave for a moment, I got on the coat, I got my umbrella, I grabbed my purse and I walked out the door, locked it, opened the gate, popped open my umbrella, took five steps and said, “nope.”

I turned right back around, shut the gate, unlocked the door, put my umbrella back and hung up my jacket.

Then I went back to the syllabi.

I messaged my friend a few more texts and then discovered that the grades were up from last semester.

Wait for it.

Straight A’s.

And Passes for the classes I had that were pass/fail.

Which I still think is hilarious that some of our courses in a graduate school program are pass/fail.

Then again, thank God that some are, I tend to get caught up in them and then realize, hey lady, focus on the ones that have a letter grade.

Which means.

Yes.

I have straight A’s through three semesters of classes.

I am half way through the program officially.

Officially I didn’t do dick today in regards to my practicum stuff.

But I did buckle down after a bit of freaking out and needing to get talked down off the ledge by my friend in school and a couple of phone check ins I did with my people.

“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect,” I said as I answered the phone.

“Lay it on me mama,” he said.

And I told him about it all and how I felt overwhelmed and I have had nightmares recently.

Ugh.

Recurring nightmares that haven’t had in years, but hey, here you go, have a nightmare, not stressed at all are you?

hahahahahahahaha.

Vomit.

“It has to be enough,” I said to him, “it has to be, I already did more today than most people do all weekend.”

I felt the tears well up and slide down my cheeks.

Sometimes it feels like there is just so much work to do and no one to rely on but myself and my God I better make this work or I’ll be homeless in the park.

Thanks brain, really needed that added incentive.

We talked it through and I felt the pressure valve open and the emotional steam hiss out.

Then.

I expressed some plans for the weekend.

Yeah.

It is a school weekend, but it’s also a big anniversary for me on Friday.

So.

I’ll be leaving school, I decided, a half hour early so I can go sit in a church basement and make a little announcement where I have made a few before, eleven other to be exact, but who’s counting?

I am.

That’s who.

I’m also going to go to a special church on Sunday and have dinner with some friends before hand and pick up a little something that evening.

A sort of talisman if you like.

A special token of time and effort and work.

If I only do that.

If I only did that work today, the sitting across from the lady bug, the listening, the sharing, than it was a good day.

Fuck.

It was a great day.

An amazing day.

To help another.

Spectacular.

With those thoughts and feelings I got off the phone, ate a home cooked, I told you I did food prep today I have meals for every day this week and all my meals at school all portioned out and ready for take off, made a cup of tea and got onto the reading.

I watched a two-hour movie required for one of the classes and then read two clinical papers.

I did over two hundred pages of reading today and watched that movie.

But most importantly I acknowledged to myself that I am enough.

I am doing enough.

I have enough.

There is no scarcity.

No.

I have all I need.

I am so grateful.

Because the one thing that I may have the most of is perspective.

It is astounding to realize how well I have taken care of myself and how far I have come.

I’ve come a long fucking way.

Just saying.

And though I have a long way to go.

Well, they say, “they” who the fuck are they, it’s the journey not the destination.

I’m on the path and though I don’t know where it leads exactly.

I’m happy to report that I made some nice strides along it today.

And at this juncture the most important thing is to acknowledge it and to take my rest.

There will be more work to do tomorrow.

But for tonight.

I am done.

Seriously.

l am pretty much toast.

Which means.

Time for tea.

And listening to the rain beat against the glass on the back door and the deep hallucinatory roar of the ocean as the waves smash upon the beach.

Warm.

Safe.

Cozy.

And loved.

That too.

I believe it.

I know I love me.

And that is enough.

It was even when I did not realize I was enough.

Perspective.

Seriously.

Where it’s at.

 

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The Final Push

December 17, 2016

All I could think about, well, not all, but a lot of what I could think about was getting through the day so that I could get to the thing and then go grocery shopping and get home and blog and have tea and maybe watch half of Project Runway, shut up, and then go to bed and get up and go to yoga and shower and eat breakfast and coffee, coffee, coffee, and go meet my person and then zip the fuck back here and write my fucking paper.

Damn you Psychopathology.

All I can think about is that span of hours that I will be writing.

Alternatively dreading and anticipating.

I mean.

By this time tomorrow I’ll be done with the semester.

If it fucking kills me.

Actually.

I will be done with it before this time tomorrow night or I might shoot myself in the head.

I jest.

Not funny for a therapist in training to joke about suicide, now is it?

Hahahahahaha.

Where’s the coffee?

Heh.

I mean.

It’s not that bad, I do know, without a doubt that I will write the fuck out of the paper and I’ve done my prep and I have my stack of notebooks, three, books, four, and my thoughts in regards to what I need to do.

There is much to do.

But I know the lay of the land and I will wend my way through the paper.

It’s going to take some sustained effort, but I got it.

I do.

It’s just stopping and pausing to enjoy the moment that is right now instead of living in that perpetual feeling of anxiety about writing the paper.

I came so close to calling in sick today.

And.

I’m not sick.

I just want the relief of being finished with the work.

I want the respite at the end of the tunnel.

Fast acting relief.

I’m not as good with sitting with pain as I used to be.

That being said, I did have a proactive day that wasn’t completely focused on pondering the Psychopathology paper.

I did get up and go to yoga.

I did not do any yoga though.

Which could have had the capacity to piss me off, but didn’t.

The instructor literally slept through her alarm.

I will cut the woman some slack though, she’s just gotten back from a long trip abroad to India and jet lag is no joke.

I left the studio after fifteen minutes of lolling about on my mat and doing some stretching and just figured that God had different plans in mind.

I had a nice breakfast and some delicious coffee and wrote a lot.

I have had a few things on my mind you could say.

And then I scooted downtown to campus to sell back some text books.

Of course the store was closed.

I’d gotten there too early so I went and idled around the practicum support table on the second floor and wrote out the two page practicum application paperwork that my advisor needs to sign for me to move forward in the process.

I was super grateful to get that out-of-the-way and by the time I was done the store had just opened.

I hopped downstairs, sold my text books and gave myself the permission to go buy some of my favorite lotion at Rainbow and wander around the aisles a little bit.

Some apples, some candles, a raw chocolate drink, my body lotion and then over to work.

I had a few minutes before my shift started and I made some phone calls and came to some really deep realizations about some personal things.

And though I will talk about sex and intimacy and dating I can’t and won’t always talk about what is going on internally.

I have to talk it out.

So.

I did that and was really grateful for the response I got back from my person.

It did leave a surreal taste in my mouth for the day, albeit a good one, I feel really free of some character defects that have been plaguing me without me even being conscious of them.

It felt really good, I felt graced and enlightened and though there was some sadness there too, I realized that the decision I had come to was the right one for me and it really was a fucking relief to let go of some old ideas that I had no clue how long I’d been holding onto them.

Pretty intense and pretty fucking fabulous.

Which left me really at ease in my person, my life, where I am with work and school and relationships in general.

I really had a fucking epiphany of gigantic proportions.

Things shifted inside and I cannot believe how being honest with myself could bring about such change.

But there I was sitting on the bench outside the store on the corner of Lexington and 20th having the most profound conversation with my person who was also reiterating to me how deep this shift was and I was blown away, just blown away.

Work, then, was amazing, just for me showing up.

Did lots of cooking.

Stockpiled some broccoli soup and homemade black bean chili for the mom.

Played with the boys.

Ran some errands.

Played with the boys more.

Read stories.

And confirmed that I would love to have dinner with the family after work on Monday to celebrate my birthday at Izakaya Rintaro.

Can you say sashimi?

I can.

Yummy.

“As long as it won’t interfere with you finishing up your finals and papers,” my boss said, “we’d love to take you out to dinner for your birthday.”

I assured them that I would be finished by Monday.

I better be.

It’s due Monday.

But as we all know.

At least I know.

I will be done tomorrow.

So that I can celebrate my birthday without it hanging over my head.

I feel like that is pretty spectacular incentive to finish.

Almost there.

I got this.

I really do.

Seriously.

One more big push.

Your Smile Could Melt Glass

April 12, 2016

He said, “you are so gentle and kind.”

And you, you my friend are high as a kite and married.

But hey.

Thanks, I do appreciate the compliment and I wished him a good night and I left Java Beach and came home and wrote a really big letter to my program director.

Because, you see, I had my heart a bit broken today and I am sure there are some of you that are going to roll your eyes, but fuck you and go read another blog.

I was at work today and granted, I was cranky, the reason I was there was to let in the housekeeper and she was an hour late.

Dudes.

I had to make some phone calls.

I got right with God.

And by the time she showed up I was happy and serene and getting myself settled in to do some homework, write that paper I have due for Madame Mildred Dubitzky.

Except it felt tremulous and awkward and my mind was too full from all the material we covered over the weekend.

So.

Some review reading and the process of knowing that often I sit down and don’t know what I am going to write and then I write the paper.

While in the midst of this I was poking around the academics page on my school site and then I saw it.

The dates for the fall semester.

Wait.

What?

Fuck.

NO!

No.

No.

Fuck me.

The first weekend of classes is Labor Day Weekend.

September, 4-6th.

What the fuck.

I’m at Burning Man.

I stared incredulous at the screen, Labor Day weekend, why would they do that?  The school didn’t last year and I made my plans last year knowing that.

I made the assumption, I know, I know, that it was going to be the same kind of schedule.

And yeah.

It was going to be tough and it was going to be wonky and I might lose some sleep, but I was going to go, I got a job, I got a ticket, I got a purpose.

And it’s my tenth year.

And though I don’t want to dwell on it because I will start crying again.

It’s the 10th year anniversary of Shadrach’s death and he was the reason I went in the first place.

I took his ashes, not all of them, but enough, a whisper, a soft remonstrance of a kiss on my forehead, prayers for happiness in the ether, the never ending spiral out of love that I know he swims in, that his joy and smile and love are still with me.

And.

Oh.

Fuck.

Ten years is a long time and a lot has happened and I have grown and it still hurts and I still miss him and I always, always, have a moment, just for him, just for me out in the deep playa and I will really miss it.

I was too upset to keep working on my paper.

I called my person.

I was told to contact the school.

I scoffed, I said I was going to accept it.

(Roll over)

I also said I was going to pray and just focus on today and doing the things I needed to do.

I called another one of my people and sobbed.

He told me to take a good, brisk walk, like big, and move.

I did that.

I told the housekeeper I was going out to run errands and I just strode like a woman on fire through the Mission.

I walked into a nail salon and got my nails done.

Black.

My mood was a little dark.

I took myself out to lunch afterwards and didn’t get on the phone, but I knew I was going to have to tell the family I had contracted to work for.

It was only going to be the right thing to do.

My heart hurt and I was still too tender to do that.

I got back to the house and made a cup of tea and the housekeeper was almost done.

She wrapped up, I took care of securing the house and I hopped on my scooter and headed to the Sunset.

First the Inner then, the Outer.

Pit stop at Dr. Kurtzbay to pick up my new progressives–re-lensed my green frames–and found a pair of sunglass frames I liked to get a prescription set.

Then from the 7th and Irving to 46th and Judah.

I dropped off my laptop and hopped back on the scooter.

I felt at a loss with what to do with myself.

I did some grocery shopping at SafeWay.

Then came home, put groceries away, looked at my homework and shelved it.

I just couldn’t do it.

I read for a while, non-school material, more of The Widow of One Year, by the fabulous John Irving.

Then I sat and meditated for awhile in the back yard, getting some sun on my face.

And after that.

Ha.

I took a nap.

I was so zapped.

I thought I slept a half hour.

I slept an hour and a half!

I made some dinner, and frankly, well, I couldn’t cook.

I knew I had to call the family I was supposed to work for.

I did.

Barely able to do it without breaking my voice.

Then I went and did the deal and I was of service and did my commitment and helped out a new lady and went to fellowship and after I shared with a woman who graduated from CIIS this past December.

“Oh CIIS empties out at Burning Man, you should see if they can change that, really contact someone,” she said while I listened.

A friend of mine in the cohort mentioned the same thing.

But aren’t I asking for the entire cohort to kowtow to my schedule?

Then I thought.

Fuck it.

Just take the action.

So.

I did.

Hey D_____-

I don’t believe we have ever met, but I am in the ICPW 2015 cohort, happy to be heading into my last month of my first year.  A little overwhelmed too!  But, over all super excited and grateful to be on the path.
That being said I was heartbroken to see that the first weekend of the ICPW 2016 fall semester is Labor Day weekend.  I work at Burning Man and was planning my travel there around school, and my assumption, my wrong, I know, that the dates would be similar for the first weekend of the second year–that is after Burning Man.
I know it’s an odd request, but it is a spiritual experience for me, part of my practice, my ten year anniversary of going as well as my best friends ten year anniversary of his death–I took his ashes to Temple my first year, and I have gone back every year since, holding many positions of service in the community.
I am sure that I am not the only student at CIIS that attends Burning Man and I am aware that there is a least one other in my cohort who was planning on going and has purchased tickets.
If there is any leeway, flexibility or other options for that weekend I would greatly appreciate your thoughts.  I am bereft.  I do understand if there is no recourse, I will forfeit my going to the event for my schooling, I have already notified my employers to look for another–however my position is extremely challenging to fill.  If, again, there is anything I can do, please let me know.
If not, I hope that for the future that the department may consider those of us who go to the event for their spiritual practice.  I have been sober 11 years and am also of service in the recovery community there.  In fact, if it hadn’t been for an experience at Burning Man two burns ago, I wouldn’t even be at CIIS–feel free to see my application essay, it’s all spelled out there.
Thank you again for your service as Program Coordinator, your efforts are noticed, if not always acknowledge directly.
Sincerely yours,
Carmen Martines
I have no idea what comes next.
But I tried.
I made an effort.
And for that I am grateful.
Fingers crossed.

Foiled By The Holiday

March 28, 2016

I rode my scooter up to the gates of the church to realize they were barred shut.

No doing that deal tonight.

Oh well.

I came home and did some more school work.

I just finished my third posting for my Applied Spirituality class and I did the rest of the reading I needed to do for my Therapeutic Relationship class.

I got a lot done today despite not feeling like I got a lot done.

I slept in for one.

Although I did still make it to yoga class.

I just decided to do a later morning class than I would typically.

I knew I needed to rest.

It’s been two weeks since I manifest the cold I have had, it’s last hooks seem to be easing up and though there was a brief moment of coughing on my mat–not literally, hello–I feel like I’m finally through the damn thing.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to push myself unnecessarily when I didn’t need to.

I normally meet with a lady at a certain point in my day and that was cancelled for Easter egg hunts and bunnies in Marin.

Totally respect that.

So.

Sleeping in for me, a later yoga class, and a later start to my day.

Which feels like it has sort of passed in a blur of children’s laughter–there was an Easter egg hunt in the back yard this afternoon for my housemates daughter and friends in the neighborhood and soft soreness from my yoga exertions this morning.

Plus, all the reading I did, so much reading, I do feel a tiny bit fuzzy with it.

And a softening in myself for the work of it all.

Yoga is work.

School is work.

Recovery is definitely work.

But the payoffs.

So good.

So much God.

So much love.

I also know to balance that too and when I didn’t need to do extra to not do extra.

I had an idea that I might make an extra run to the grocery store, but I was pretty mellow in my home and habits today and the effort of the yoga class sort of took out my juju to do a lot more.

As though, let me acknowledge to myself, I didn’t do anything, because that’s not true either.

I did laundry and I went to the market up the street and I cooked all my food for the week and I ate really well–someone in the neighborhood left out a box of free Meyer lemons from their tree, hello homemade lemon hummus–and I put clean sheets on my bed, I did all sort of reading, aforementioned, for school, I showered and wrote my morning pages–three long hand in my last notebook from Paris, the one from the Palais de Tokyo (stopping briefly to accept the wash of light blue tinged sorrow that comes over me when I think of that trip, still the soft bereft girl in me lingers there, in the pages of the notebooks I bought and brought back), I gassed up my scooter for the week, and I also had a tech call with Apple Care.

Which did not actually fix the issue and I’m going to have to call back and reschedule some more help.

The guy got me half way there, and it was going to take some time to move all my photos, 10,810 of them, to the external hard drive.

But for some reason it did not seem to take and I am still stuck with a lap top that is constantly telling me that it is has a full disc drive.

So.

Back to the drawing board there.

But.

Really.

A full day.

A reflective day, a quiet day, a day not quite of repose, but one in which I spent most of it reading from my chaise lounge, watching the light change on the surface of the page as the day melted away down towards dusk and sunset.

The ticking clock in motion.

The melancholic moment of day end and the awareness of all things done.

And not done, but mostly done.

I thought I might get around to writing one of my papers for the next weekend of school, but after all the reading, I didn’t have the gumption in me.

I think I spent all my gumption at the yoga studio.

I also had a really interesting experience.

Aside from falling over when I tried to do a side plank and also, exhorting, “oh my god,” when we did a pose that was to help do an IT band stretch.

At least the instructor chuckled with me.

She also helped me understand something new about my person and my experience with myself and my intuition.

My third eye, specifically.

She kept exhorting the class to soften that space between the brows, to ease into the poses and sometimes I could, but mostly, the spot between my eyes was furrowed in concentration.

Later.

Well, hmm, later I began to speculate that perhaps it wasn’t furrowed because I was trying so hard to do something, but rather that I was trying so hard to not allow myself to see.

To, in effect, utilize my third eye.

I have a deep pool of intuition and love and inner clairvoyance that I have not ever really allowed or encouraged myself to see or use.

It is strong enough that it comes through often to me none the less, intuition, gut response, a pricking of the thumbs, etc.

However.

I had this image of a large dragon eye, opening and closing, then falling asleep.

Rather like Smaug in The Hobbit, he sleeps, but knows that there is a mischief about.

A thief.

Bilbo with the ring poking through the treasure.

But the eye is closed, glued shut, sticky with sleep crumbs and gluttonous logic.

How could there be anyone there?

No.

Slumber on, but with brow furrowed, eye closed against the whispers of something is up.

The instructor during our final resting pose came to me as I lie on my back, eyes closed, heart furrowed against further insights, I had just finished a strenuous pose and felt opened to more sorrow and tears were on my face, and sweat.

Goodness.

I broke a sweat today.

Anyway.

As I lay there she gently approached, squatted down and placed a small amount of ointment into the nook of my left shoulder and rubbed a tight knot of muscle there I did not even realize needed relief.

Then.

She dotted the space between my eyes and rubbed the spot until it relaxed and opened.

I felt like that sleepy dragon.

I felt that eye open and look about.

It feels dangerous.

And amazing.

Then I cried some more.

Good grief.

I did not know, thank God my person did, how much sadness and anger needed to be shed out of my body.

It feels amazing.

And tiring too.

It was a lot of work to show up on that mat today and I am grateful for the body that did the work and the mind that finally got the hell out of the way.

And for that opening eye.

I am nervous to see what visions it brings.

But enthralled with it too.

Life.

It keeps getting richer.

I just have to keep taking the suggestions.

Grateful I didn’t balk too long at the yoga one.

Grateful I show up.

Just grateful for it all.

Third eye open.

Blind.

No longer.


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