Posts Tagged ‘hours’

Not Quite So Dark

June 18, 2017

Oh.

For fuck sake.

So here I am trying to be all low-key and down low and not post anything via social media so I stay anonymous.

And.

Um.

hahahahahaha.

Oops.

Turns out I’m completely transparent and known on my own fucking blog.

My “About Me” page had, I say had since I just pulled it down, a photo of me and link, failed link, but still a link, with my gmail account linked to it.

My gmail account is my full name.

Rolls eyes at self.

Ugh.

Fortunately a friend caught it and gave me the heads up.

And the post has been updated to reflect that.

No more photographs of me, no more name on the page.

Just me and my thoughts listening to some Bill Withers.

When I wake up in the morning love and the sunlight hurts my eyes.

…..Just one look at you and I know it’s going to be a lovely day.

Up a little late.

Up a tiny bit wired.

I went to an anniversary party this evening after doing the deal over on Turk and Divisadero this evening and saw a swarm of folks that I hadn’t seen in a while, including one of my best friends who came into the city and my god, it was good.

I had my internship today and lots of errands that I wanted to do and some down time in the afternoon to do laundry and get myself caught up, and I realized that I hadn’t done a good bit of this kind of socializing in a while.

It took me a moment to catch my stride.

I can be charming and funny and outspoken and a character, but the truth is that sometimes I get a bit over my head with social stuff, which is hilarious and most folks have no idea.

I am not going to label myself an introvert or an extrovert, I’m not going to pigeonhole myself, but I will say I felt awkward and I realized it was going to pass and I had a minute to get settled and be in my skin and let it be ok that I was in a big social situation with a lot of people I am acquainted with but perhaps not that close to.

I also needed to be there and be seen and just let myself be not at work or at the internship.

I logged another two hours today at the internship, even went in a little early to do some paper work and get myself situated and eat a lunch quietly in the office before the other interns got there for our session.

I got some good info, gave some good feedback and was mightily pleased that I had clients to talk about.

I am just dipping my toe into the mix and it’s a lot to carry, but I’m starting to do it and I can see that I am doing the thing that I am supposed to do.

Granted when I logged into track my hours I realized that I had done five hours this week, two client hours and three training hours and that my supervisor at the internship wants me to carry a load of 15 hours.

Three times what I did this week.

Sigh.

Granted I may not get up to that speed for a while and there will be times when I’m able to do that and times when I won’t.

I can’t get too focused on it and I also told myself today that in the service of keeping a tiny semblance of sanity that maybe I don’t have to get as many hours as is possible for me to collect while I am in school.

I just need to get the hours required by my program to graduate.

Granted.

I say to myself.

Fuck that shit.

GET IT ALL.

But.

I don’t want to kill myself and I want to have some socializing.

I need face time with people.

I am thinking specifically of a few friends that are just too dear for me to let go of and I will squeeze them in where and when I can and I will be tired and I won’t give a fuck and you only live once and get it.

Get it girl.

Some things may feel overwhelming, but in the day-to-day of it, I’m doing it.

Slowly building up my client base, learning how to be a therapist, learning how to keep loving and taking care of myself and finding those odd hours and minutes in the hollowed spaces of golden sunned afternoon light when I can pause, catch my breath and get hella grateful.

I mean.

Hella.

Grateful.

That I have what I have.

“You look different,” my friend said to me tonight.

And she’s right.

Things in my life have altered in an amazing way and I am beyond myself with happiness and succumbing to all the feelings therein.

Without expectation or thought for future moments.

Ok.

Small white lie, I do have some plans for future travel, but I am trying to really keep it to this day, these scattering of moments, dipped in old school R&B, or Elvis ballads, old love songs and lyrical movements in time, the stars framed by the trees overhead, a snapshot of a moment.

Astounded with beauty.

Awake to every feeling in my body.

And that’s all I can wish for.

This moment.

Where I am alive.

Oh.

And I am so alive.

It is glorious.

Sure.

Might have something to do with the peer pressure cup of coffee I accepted gleefully at the party and perhaps I might have racing thoughts but I have had racing thoughts for weeks now and I am rather used to it and the heart beating in my chest going fast just lets me know how fully alive I am.

It is exquisite and I am unabashed by the feeling of it.

Love.

Love.

That’s where it’s at.

The word that flutters in my chest.

The ache and longing.

The aliveness.

The song on my lips.

The poem in my eyes seeking yours.

The smile that I cannot help but smile.

So fucking good.

This life.

My life.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 

Cherry Popped

June 14, 2017

I had my first client.

It went well.

That’s all I’m going to say.

That and holy shit.

I had my first client!

I did my first session of therapy with a client.

The client has rebooked for another session.

So it really begins.

As though it’s not been beginning for a very long time, all the time training and studying and reading and writing papers and working with my cohort.

All that.

Plus.

Years of other kinds of service, sitting and listening to another person check in, being honest, being accountable, showing up, doing the deal.

I mean.

Fuck.

I have been working hard for a god damn long time to get here.

I had my first client session.

I know I won’t ever forget it.

And I am grateful for it.

It was a good day.

A sunny day.

A lovely day.

I did a lot.

Showered and wrote and coffee and reading and making sure I had a back up outfit for work, just in case I get nannied in the line of duty.

Last week the baby spit up on both my arms.

Nothing says “let’s create a therapeutic alliance” more than smelling like regurgitated breast milk.

Ha.

So.

I have a back up outfit at work.

I actually have two.

I have one just for work, if I need to I can do a quick change out and being able to work the rest of whatever hours I have work and run my stuff through the wash.

And now.

I have a second outfit that is more appropriate to looking like a professional.

Oh.

I’m still pretty casual in my attire.

But.

I today I was was also softly polished.

Black leggings, long drop waist charcoal grey dress, baby blue cardigan, and my new Fluevogs.

I wanted to look nice, warm, inviting.

I also liked dressing for the part.

I love dress up.

I love clothes and shoes and I have secretly waited to arrive at the day when I can start to be a little more polished and professional.

It was really nice to transition from my nanny clogs to my therapist shoes.

It felt like I was putting on my superhero cloak.

Nanny by day, psychotherapist by night.

I’ll be seeing all my clients in the evenings after I get done with work.

I was talking to my own therapist this morning, I see her on Tuesdays before work, so it’s like my day is completely bookended with therapy, about how lucky I am that I have the job that I do and how much it fills me up.

My therapist and I talked a lot about how strong I am and how I don’t always know how to let myself recognize that, that I do the work.

I can logically see it, but sometimes when I have felt like I have had no other option, no one else to rely on, just me doing it on my own, how devastatingly lonely that can be and how hard.

It has taken getting pretty beaten down by a few accidents during the last twelve and a half years to help me see that asking for help is a valuable experience for me and when I am more vulnerable.

Well.

I am stronger.

There is such strength in vulnerability.

The more I can allow myself to be seen, to be vulnerable, the more I learn and the more I am able to use my own inner resources without having to feel like I’m justing working hard to work hard.

I am so grateful that wall has dropped.

It goes back up at times, but I find the more I can let it down the happier I am and the fuller my life become.

I am incorrigible in my aliveness and lust for living.

Absolutely defiant with my need to feel more happiness and joy and see more and go further and have as many experiences and have as much growth as I can.

Yeah.

I know that might be courting some painful things too, but there is growth where there is pain.

I do hope to reach a point in my life when I can make changes before I have to experience pain, a place of simple humility about what I can and can’t do, rather than a forced feeding of excoriation because I am simply unwilling to let go of some characteristic of myself that I think still serves me.

Not acknowledging my strength today in my therapy session would have been akin to that.

I acknowledged it.

And.

I also had to hold the fact that there’s an inner critic who still holds a lot of sway and likes to smack talk me quite a bit.

Not enough.

Not smart enough.

Not pretty enough.

Not lovable.

Not good enough.

But.

Those things are simply not true and they taste older and more and more faded and dusty and the cloth binding is falling apart.

Let me drop it to the floor, sweep it out the door and find something fresh and new and lovely.

There is so much loveliness for me.

I am sure of it.

“Your capacity for love is enormous,” my therapist said, “you have the biggest heart.”

Hearing a basic stranger, I mean, we’ve had, like what, eight sessions, tell me that my capacity for love was not just big, but enormous, I was floored.

I was validated.

That is what I hope to do for my clients.

To see them.

Honest in who they are with whatever they bring.

I know that I can do it and I am honored that I got to do that today.

And yes.

Log my first freaking hour of individual therapy.

It feels amazing to be logging hours.

I have a long way to go.

But I am on the path and that is all I need to be present for.

I don’t have to know where it ends.

I just need to continue moving forward.

One baby step at a time.

 

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step

–Lao Tzu

Number One

April 25, 2017

It’s official.

I have logged my first hour of supervision towards my MFT License for the state of California.

Only 2,999 to go!

Heh.

I’m so happy it’s hard to believe that I could be this excited about having to work so many more hours, free, mind you, or not free if you consider how much I have taken out in student loans to pay for the Master’s in Psychology degree that I am working on, but excited I am.

I also just set up my Track My Hours account, which is a BBS (Board of Behavioral Sciences) approved way of tracking the hours needed to get the license.

It’s happening.

I will be tracking solo supervision with my off site supervisor, once a week.

I met with him today and we talked about being in service to the client, tracking my hours, figuring out what my record keeping was going to be like, confidentiality, my time off for the week I’m in Paris (I can only miss two supervision dates for the semester, Paris will be one of them and Burning Man the other, at least for this semester), and what I want to think about or questions I may have for our next session.

I’ll meet with him two more times before I start taking clients at my internship.

There I will be accruing the majority of my hours for practicum, solo one on one client hours, child hours, couple hours, group hours.

I will also be tracking my own therapy hours, since my program requires I do 50 hours of personal therapy with a licensed MFT as well.

Tomorrow will be my fifth time meeting with her.

I am actually excited to share about getting my first hour of supervision today and what that feels like.

Exciting.

Exhilarating.

Happy.

There’s a very long way to go but I know that I need to acknowledge this milestone, it is a big one, my first hour.

It’s like the first dollar of a new business.

Especially as this is going to be my career, this is what I am doing, this is what I am, a psychotherapist.

I will be licensed and I will have a private practice.

I will also go for my PhD, because, well, I can be of more service in my community, I might as well, as my supervisor at my internship is supporting me in that endeavor.

And.

Ha.

Dr. Martines has a really fucking nice ring to it.

Don’t you think?

I’m really thrilled right now and happy.

I still have loads to do this week, two more papers to write, some more work to get out-of-the-way, but it’s happening, this is happening, one little hour at a time.

One day at a time.

Showing up and suiting up and learning.

God damn.

All the learning.

I also received a verification e-mail from my Couples Therapy teacher, my final paper made it to him.

Grateful that’s out-of-the-way.

And I got a small present, from me, to me, in the mail.

My perfume in a small travel size that I can take with me when I go to Paris.

I ordered it because I knew I would want to smell good when I’m there and it’s another little carrot for me to get the work done so I can go.

I am going to need every single second of that ten days in Paris because life is going to get really full once I get back.

I start my internship the day after I return from Paris.

I will be jet lagged as fuck, but I will be there.

I will also be in supervision that day as well, and a full day of work, and all those things.

I however will be fine.

Ten days in Paris.

So close I can taste it.

I can hear it.

I was talking to my supervisor today about it, he asked where I’m staying, how much French do I speak, what will I do.

I mean.

What won’t I do?

But first.

Here and now.

Therapy in the morning and work and having a conversation with the mom about hours for summer, the kids will not be in school and she wants me to start earlier.

And work more hours.

40 instead of 35.

I’ll be able to do it since won’t be in school.

Neither here nor there, yet.

Just on the horizon.

Day to-day I have my marching orders to get through what needs to be taken care of.

Travel perfume.

Check.

Passport.

Check.

Cute sandals for walking around Paris?

Check.

Place to stay?

Check.

I’ll be grabbing a museum pass at the airport when I fly in and I’ll be off and running, well, walking, one strolls through Paris, not runs, unless one is there to run the marathon, which I am not.

The only marathon I am going to be doing is how many museums can I get to in one day.

If done well, I can get the Jeu de Paume, the Orangerie, and the D’Orsay in one day, they’re all rather close together and accessible.

I can do the Louvre, or not, although if I have the pass I probably will, in one day, and there’s so much that to do anything else except drink coffee, is probably too much.

I’ll do the Pompidou on its own.

I’ll hit the Musee Moderne and the Palais de Tokyo on the same day, they’re right next to each other.

I might go to the Rodin museum.

I will absolutely get myself out to the LVMH that Frank Gehry designed.

And I think I may hit the Musee Marmottan Monet.

Aside from that, walks in the Marais, markets, and Claire Fontaine notebooks.

Oh.

Heh.

And a tattoo.

I will want to do that too.

Perhaps something to commemorate my first hour of supervision.

Yes.

I rather like that idea.

Anyway.

Off to have some tea and get a little rest.

I have much to do.

And do it I shall.

HOUR ONE LOGGED!

Heh.

Sorry.

Just had to say it one more time before I turn in.

It’s kind of a big deal.

 

Wow

September 27, 2016

That was a long day.

I mean.

Seriously.

First day at the new Monday gig and it went 10 hours.

Whew.

But I got through it.

And yes, the 20 month old did nap, but it was a challenge to get her down, it didn’t happen right away and there was a lot of stops and starts with it.

Harder than I had anticipated.

But.

Then again.

Oh, the baby sweetness and toes and feet, and the stroller and being outside and not being on a monitor all the time.

The freedom.

Not that I did anything different from what I really always do.

However.

I felt less restrained and more comfortable, although a bit awkward, new house, new things to figure out, new switches, sets of keys…

Fuck.

The keys I have on my key ring right now.

Nice to be trusted.

I literally have the keys to three different million dollar homes in San Francisco.

Crazy.

And grateful that I am so trusted.

“We really felt good leaving her with you, and she’s obviously so happy and you guys look like you had a great day,” the mom said when she came home.

“And oh my God, the house, it looks great,” she added.

Then paid me.

In cash.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Glad to be of service.

But man oh man.

I don’t think I could keep up these kinds of hours for very long.

It’s too much.

Even with the baby napping part of it.

I was up to go to the bathroom before the sunrise and as I was about to hop back in bed, gratefully thinking I had a few more hours of sleep, my alarm went off.

I actually cried out loud, “NOOOOOOO.”

6 a.m.

Oof.

I know some people are morning people, and that’s great, I’m much more of a morning person than I used to be, but 6 a.m. is an early start.

Especially after putting in 29 hours of classes over the weekend.

And a full rather hectic week of work prior to that.

It was a big week, weekend, and now the start of the next week, which began with a 10 hour shift with a new family, family dynamic, household, schedule, and children.

No biggie.

Falls in heap on floor.

I’ve got my alarm set for 8 a.m. for tomorrow.

I’m hoping on getting to the yoga studio.

It’s been too long since I went.

All the tumult last week, the weekend of school and this super long Monday has meant no yoga for a week and a half I think.

Too long.

I may change my mind and just wait until Wednesday.

It might be nice to get a full night’s rest and be prepared for whatever is going to be happening at my regular job the rest of the week.

And.

I have also been approached by another friend who has a friend who just had a baby and is beginning the nanny hunt.

I need to update my resume and forward that to her.

I was just too busy today with the new job to do it.

And I feel too tired right now to fully give it my attention.

Although I know I should get it to her as soon as I can.

I haven’t looked at my resume in a few years, it’s time to polish it.

It really doesn’t need a whole lot, just an update on what I have been doing for the last two years, my current job and graduate school.

Ooh.

I get to put my masters program on my resume, excellent.

That will be fun.

I had forgotten about that.

I actually brought school work with me today, but didn’t get the chance to address it what with the baby’s erratic sleeping.

Homework.

Oh.

All the homework.

A day off is probably not a bad idea.

I also went to see some folks at Our Lady of Safeway tonight and that was good.

A little reunion of sorts.

And.

Bumping into a guy I always have had a sort of crush on and not doing anything about it.

No chasing.

I have to say though, I’m getting tired of writing down the paragraph every day of what an adult man looks like and what qualities I am looking for in a romantic mate.

And waiting to be pursued.

But then again.

I see very clearly when it doesn’t work for me and how chasing is never the answer, so when the man tonight didn’t seem all that interested, I stopped thinking about the pursuit and just came home.

There is nothing to do.

No Tinder dance to tango.

No OkStupid.

No chasing boys.

No mothering men who need care taking.

Just sitting still and really letting it all go.

I don’t actually need to be in a relationship.

I have so very much.

Yes.

It’s a goal.

But I’m not going to wait on my life to do things and feel things and have experiences.

Fuck no.

And by letting go, surrendering to the moment, I usually am better off anyway.

They say surrender is going over to the winning side.

I like that.

I have not been successful at dating.

Although, I think that’s incorrect.

I have dated and learned a lot in this past year, starting around February, the day after Valentines Day, when I allowed myself to be approached at the grocery store and asked out on a date.

I have dated a lot since then.

Tried a lot of stuff.

Hooked up a few times.

Went dancing.

Had some meals.

Had some uncomfortable dates, some fun dates, some horrible dates.

I wouldn’t say I’m a failure at dating.

I’m actually a lot better at it then I was at the beginning of the year.

I can’t make magic happen though and I think that’s what is next.

Just letting the magic come to me instead of trying to figure it out.

Figure it out isn’t a slogan.

And until then.

Well.

Fuck.

I have a lot going on.

Full time work, full-time grad school, full time recovery, yoga, writing.

I have enough.

I am enough.

Life is great.

And this Monday is done.

Stick a fork in it and turn it over.

 

Early to Blog

September 27, 2013

Late to bed.

I am up in the Castro—19th between Noe and Sanchez—with no Internet connection.

Boo hiss.

However, the Word Document on my computer works just fine.

So, I figure I will get my blog out of the way, blog be gone!

And then I will watch down loaded videos I have not had time to watch.

The dad also showed my how to access Netflix and all that jazz on their big screen television, but a remote is usually beyond me.

In fact, I was realizing today, I feel like a lot of things are beyond me.

I was looking through Craigslist for jobs and I wasn’t discouraged so much as just not interested in doing any of the jobs that were offered.

It felt like such an investment to even get started.

I had absolutely no gumption, get up and go, or desire to find more work.

I realized that I am just fine being a nanny until something else comes along, not something that I need to figure out or make happen, not something where I go shake the trees or move to another country, France.  Just whatever happens to be the next thing, I don’t have to make shit happen.

I am a good worker and I am a good nanny.

I have a lot of experience being a nanny and so with those thoughts rolling around in my head I did what I needed to do to further my nanny career.

I invested my time and energy into getting myself re-booked to re-up my Child/Infant CPR and First Aid skills; the class also includes adult and AED skills, with the American Red Cross.

I have never had to use the certification, this will be my fourth time taking the class, but it is something that I like having the knowledge fresh in my mind and it makes me a more valuable nanny as far as I am concerned.

I also contacted TrustLine, which is a California service that does a back round check on all childcare providers that register with them.

I have been fingerprinted and cross-referenced and have not ever had a child neglect or abusive situation on my hands, let alone documented.  The service also does a felony background check and keeps updated files on where you live as well as references from previous employers.

I just let them know I had moved, a requirement for the service is that you must fill out a form with a current up to date address.    I finally have one that is listed again in San Francisco and ordered the address update to be sent to my house.

Oh, my sweet little house, where I fell asleep again last night with the door open–the shush of the ocean the best lullaby.

My darling little house by the sea that I really want to keep and stay in.  Which means getting some more hours for the nannying.

Or other work, but as I said, it seems really to be falling toward doing more nanny gigs.

And being healthy is part of my job, not only, I feel setting an example of healthy eating, which I do and I sit and eat my meals with the children I take care of, but also being in good health myself.

Which means health insurance.

Which I haven’t got.

But I do have a San Francisco residency, a bank statement, my tax form from last year, and I can get my employers to fill out a sheet saying about how much money I earn from them weekly.

Thereby fulfilling all the requirements to get enrolled with Healthy San Francisco.

The agency that helps those in the city with out health insurance receive medical care.

I am healthy, I don’t even have a cold, but I would like to have something in place in case anything happens and I also want to get the flu shot and get re-vaccinated for Rubella and Whooping Cough, also known as Pertussis.

I believe I am still up to date with my Tetanus vaccination, but I will get that too if needed.

I have full time hours this week and full time hours next week, but after that I won’t, unless this interview I do on Sunday falls my way.  I don’t actually believe it will, I don’t think that I am the fit they need, but I am going to show up (unless they cancel) and be available.

That is the part that I can repeat to myself whenever I get into the self-pity mode, show up and be available, when have I not been taken care of when that happens?

Life is pretty awesome.

I live by the beach in a beautiful, sweet little home, I eat really healthy tasty, good food, I work with bright loving children and I get paid to do so.

My bills are paid, for this month, and I have a roof over my head and a bicycle to ride.

Nary a problem here.

Nope, not a one.

Even without the Internet connection, I can tell this.

I feel genuine and happy and relaxed.

And damn lucky.

To live and love and be loved in San Francisco.

And to get to write, no matter what, no matter where, to pick up the pen in the morning and to write the blog in the evening.

These are huge gifts.

The view from the house, from the hills of the Castro, of San Francisco, the Victorians and the lofts, the lights flashing in the distance, the Bay Bridge, City Hall—it is dazzling and not taken for granted.

I am humbled to be allowed this life.

Blessed with abundance.

Abundant perspective.

*This blog was written earlier in the evening of the 26th and posted as soon as I had some internet connectivity while I was still perky and not tired.   It was, however, edited at half mast, blame any spelling or grammar errors on the lateness of the hour.*


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