Posts Tagged ‘it’s all good’

It’s Still Light Out!

June 20, 2018

Yes.

I know it’s Day Light Savings and we’re just a few days away from the longest day of the year, but that’s not it.

Both my clients cancelled tonight.

Both.

And then the boss let me go a half hour early.

Not only was I able to go hit up the spot and get my God on, I actually got home and have eaten dinner and it’s still light out!

I cannot remember the last time I have been home this early.

It’s nice.

It’s a little weird, but nice.

And since I do have to get up early tomorrow for another early start at work, I’m ok with it.

I briefly flirted with the idea of going to yoga class.

But it seemed better to have dinner earlier than to wait until 9p.m.

Which is what would have happened had I done the yoga.

And I knew who the teacher was today, I had checked the schedule and I noted the instructor, who isn’t bad, but also, well, isn’t good either.

Another instructor I might have decided to do it, but this guy, well, home and an early dinner and some relaxing sounded about right.

Grateful for a mellow week so far.

I’ve only had one client this week, when typically I would be in the middle of my fourth session of the week right now.

I have three clients left to see this week and no one tomorrow.

It feels like I got a little mini-break in the middle of my work week.

This makes me laugh.

Just working a full-time work week feels like an easy week.

I’ll also be putting in a little over time, but really, it does feel really quite relaxed.

Just thinking ahead to that mystical far off, well, maybe not so far off, but still a few years out, when I just get to be a therapist for work and don’t have to juggle full-time nannying along with my internship.

When that happens I will happily put some of the things in my life that I have not had much of back in.

More doing the deal.

More fellowshipping.

More yoga, or some sort of exercise.

But for right now, I am content.

I’m not upset that this is where my life’s at, I’ve been working really hard for the last three years to get to this point.

I still have two to three years before I’ll be fully licenced.

By which time I will have taken my boards, all the tests that I will have to take to get there, plus I will have finished my PhD program.

I haven’t any real clue how much work that is going to be, but I suspect it will be similar to what the load was when I was getting my Master’s degree.

There is a part of me that hopes that I can cut back on the nannying by June or July of next year.

There is a part of me that hopes I’ll be done with it completely, but I am not sure if that’s a for sure thing.

I would need to carry a lot of clients.

I will get there though.

And I do think that I could possibly get there before I am licensed.

I know  of people who have had full-time client loads as interns.

It’s doable.

I just have to make enough money.

I feel that what will happen is going to be gradual.

Come January, when my contract is up with the family I may say, hey, let me cut down to four days a week or three, then pick up clients full-time on those days.

I have discussed it a little with the mom, but not in detail.

Fact is.

I don’t know how it’s going to look, I can only speculate.

I do know that I have a date to meet with my new supervisor on July 11th and fingers crossed I will have my AMFT # by that point.

I have started to watch the mail.

I’ve been watching the mail for a minute now, actually.

I haven’t gotten my SF Tenant’s Union hand book yet and I’m wondering where it’s at.

I need to write my landlady that letter and it would be helpful to have the handbook.

I probably don’t need it to do the letter, but there’s a part of me that wants to have the extra support as I’m writing the letter to make sure that I have the pertinent details listed.

My therapist and I talked about it a bunch today.

It’s good to have that support.

I won’t see her for a couple of weeks what with my upcoming trip to New York about to happen.

That letter will be sent before I fly out.

I’m sure I will have  much to cover in our next session.

I reflected on that today.

Life keeps showing up.

Things keep happening.

My therapist and I had briefly discussed what it would be like for me moving forward and how she could support me and whether or not I go down to therapy every other week.

But fuck.

Things happen.

Graduation.

My mom’s visit.

Travel.

Relationships.

Work.

The 90 day move out bomb.

I don’t think that now is the time to cut back on the therapy.

It’s super helpful.

Super helpful.

And, well, I like having the resource too for other aspects of my life.

There are things that I don’t talk about with the majority of other people in my life that my therapist gets to hear and it’s such a gift to have that outlet.

It’s nice to, that I get to also give that gift to another.

Even if it’s a light week for me.

I am still showing up for my clients.

Partially just by living my life to its utmost fullest.

With love.

And boundless gratitude.

No matter how life shows up.

It’s life.

I’m alive.

It’s all good.

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Darling Little Day

June 18, 2016

Even though it started rough.

Wow.

Sometimes it’s a wonder I get out of bed.

The head games that happen before I have even swung my legs out of the bed, they can be a little, well, crazy.

I got up though, and once I got moving I knew I was going to be fine.

Even not knowing what I was going to exactly do today.

It was going to be fine.

So I did the things that help me get to that place of being completely ok with what is happening, fresh sheets on the bed, laundry in the wash, kneeling down, taking some minutes, asking for guidance and direction, reading some stuff, saying some stuff, and a nice mellow, relaxed breakfast.

Since I had no where to be other than the noon yoga class I signed up for.

I did a lot of writing.

That always helps.

I don’t even recall exactly what I wrote of, not that I normally keep track of it.

It’s rather like empty a drawer of junk and being open for what God wants to put into my day rather than trying to organize any sort of relevant thoughts or plans.

Plans.

When I make them.

Foiled.

All the time.

What then usually happens, especially if I’m on the beam, is the reality of my day is much better than what I had planned.

Yoga was like pulling teeth.

To get me to.

However, when I was there, it was amaze balls.

Like the best class I have ever had.

I did ALL the poses, I was in my body, I could feel a shift that’s probably been building for a while, but I felt so on and in the groove and just there.

It’s been four months and I am so happy I have stuck it out and kept going.

It’s hard getting there, my head will start telling me stories about how I don’t need to go.

Funny that.

How my head likes to tell me to do things that don’t serve, even when I know, with some other mysterious part of my being, that doing the very things I don’t want to do will actually make me feel better.

Take the contrary action, Carmen, it really works.

All the fucking time.

There is a solution.

Thank God.

And it is almost always the opposite of what the brain says to do.

Don’t go, you don’t need to, you’re tired, there’s other stuff happening that’s more important, yada, yada, yada.

Ad fucking nauseam.

Anyway.

I went.

And it was spectacular and my teacher told me that she wished she had taken a photo of when I first started, “you are so much more flexible, it is amazing, it’s the best part of my practice, getting to see people when they first start and then, if they are consistent, how they change.”

I really did feel good.

So good that I don’t want to go tomorrow.

Ha.

I know.

Right?

Like.

I worked so hard today, I don’t have to do it tomorrow.

But I do.

Maybe not yoga, per se, but I have certain things that I just need to do and I’m cool with that, it let’s me do all the fun stuff.

Which today, was really chill stuff, the laundry, the balancing the checkbook, the yoga, some grocery shopping, a nice hot shower, some pleasure reading, cleaning out my closet a little, I sold some stuff to Crossroads–things that were nice, but just never brought me happiness when I wore them, and then took myself out to a little dinner at Red Jade in the Castro.

Went and hung out with my people and did the deal.

Then I actually hung out afterward.

I went and fucking fellowshipped.

I haven’t done that in a while.

It was good.

I mean.

Really good.

Just to get reconnected to some friends and catch up and been seen and see fellows.

So lovely.

We went to Chow.

And I haven’t been to Chow in awhile and I love Chow.

I didn’t eat as I had already had my dinner, but to sit with a pot of tea and laugh and tell jokes and swap stories and be fun and just alive.

God damn.

I am so lucky to be alive.

It is just astounding, all things considered.

And tomorrow?

More yoga, even though I don’t want to go.

Heh.

Then.

Yes.

The pink hair.

After that a date.

I’m actually rather tepid about the date and have come inches from canceling.

However, I remind myself it’s just an exploration, see if there’s chemistry, have a cup of coffee, meet another person, let go of the results.

Show up and see what happens.

Like I said, if I don’t want to do something, I probably should.

Even if the date doesn’t go well I’ll have done something outside of my comfort zone and that is always a good thing.

It’s a late afternoon/early evening date.

So coffee could roll over to dinner, but it doesn’t have to.

I may have the evening free.

I may not.

I will probably want to show off my hair like the hussy I am, but that’s normal.

And I’m quietly pleased that my hair will be pink for Pride.

I’m not even a pinch hitter for my team, I’m rather fond of the opposite sex, but I love, adore, respect and have great admiration for the men and women and all the in between shades of humanity, after all that’s happened, I will be with the city at Pride this year.

I haven’t gone in a few years, it can be overwhelming, but I feel like the joy of being unified will outweigh the negatives of being in a big old crowd.

Plus.

I’ll be on that side of town doing the podcast up in Noe Valley.

Anyway.

I get ahead of myself.

I usually do.

Right now.

Right here.

It’s all right.

It’s all good.

In fact.

It’s pretty fucking spectacular.

Seriously.

Round One

May 7, 2016

Fight!

But.

Actually.

It wasn’t so bad.

Yeah.

I was tired today.

The first day back to the weekend of classes is always a little fraught with lack of sleep.

I went to bed at 11p.m.

I woke up at 6:30 a.m.

However.

Did I toss and turn and have to tell my brain, “hey, thanks for sharing, but can we just go to sleep now?”

So.

Maybe six hours?

Which is often what happens the night before my first day back, thoughts ranging from what am I going to wear, yeah, I know, shut up, I think about that, to who I am going to see–who I want to see, who I don’t want to see–what I am going to share or not share about in my therapy dyad.

Now.

That was different.

Maybe it’s because I am just in a nice place in my head, my heart, my body–doesn’t hurt to have the stars on one’s neck kissed in recent memory, and um, huh, heh, other things–perhaps it’s because I was ready and prepared for the weekend, the work, or what have you, the therapy dyad with my classmate went really quite well.

Relief.

We talked about my scooter, the childcare parking permit, not wanting to victimize myself or be woe is me about it, be an adult, also, that there is residual child hood lingering thought that since I lost it I should be punished, even though I had absolutely nothing to do with the thing falling off my bumper or that, heck, it could have been peeled off my scooter too, who knows.

Which led to talk about my bicycle.

Which, huh, led to tears.

And then we talked about Burning Man.

And though there weren’t tears, there was sadness  there for the not going, for missing what would have been my tenth year there, in a row, at that.

How I get a certain, this is my own wording, ego satisfaction out of being that girl.

You know.

The one speed riding, fixed gear owning (not that I have ridden my bicycle in fixed for the last two and a half years since my knees really started to get blown out), tattooed, bad ass on a bicycle wheeling through the mean streets of San Francisco.

I mean.

Hella sexy, right, I’m over 40, 43 to be exact, 44 this year in December, and still riding a one speed, with my crazy hair flying out behind me.

“Oh, I totally knew it was you,” he said, pedaling quickly to catch up to me.

“How?” I asked, a little incredulous, I mean I shouted “on your left,” when I whipped past and it was dark, after 8 p.m. on a Tuesday night riding through a stretch of Golden Gate Park with little light.

“Come on, Carmen, the bike, the hair, the tattoos, there’s only one you,” he chuckled and caught his breath.

Hmmm.

Yeah.

So, I have this “bad ass” identity in my mind.

That coupled with the “I nanny at Burning Man,” and the picture, well, forgive me, it’s compelling, interesting, vivid.

Now.

Who am I?

Just some chick in a psychology program in grad school on a scooter.

Or so one might think.

I am so much more than that and it’s nice to let things, parts of me go, relinquish the idea that I am this one thing here or that one thing there.

I am so very much.

And as I was retelling the story and the tears arose, I also realized that I have used my bicycle as a means of escape.

Ever since I was a little girl on my tricycle.

I have this awesome photograph of me that my mom gave me years and years ago, right as I was leaving for San Francisco, in fact, I think she gave it to me as a going away present, although I may be mistaken about that.

Anyway.

I’m two.

Sitting on my trike.

Hands gripping the handlebars, little wide leg cord flares on, brown I think, a lamb skin brown coat with the little shearling collar, my hair in a little messy bun up on my head and well, this smile.

This smile that said, you can’t stop me and here I go and come on world, let me at you.

I was just raring to go.

And that is not to say that I’m not still raring to go.

But, it’s changing.

I’m changing.

“The only thing that will always be the same is that change will happen.”

Change happens whether or not I give it, my body permission to be something other than it is and well, my body is tender and sore and I could use a fucking back rub and a leg rub, and my knees don’t hurt today, but they ache, and yeah, you know what, fuck, it’s going to rain tomorrow.

No scooter tomorrow.

I already threw my cover over it.

I did ride in today, just barely making the window before it started to get wet out there.

And happily it was dry and the rain had stopped by the time I got out of class.

But it does not look like that for tomorrow.

MUNI or taking a car.

Just depends on whether they’re still doing work on the Cole Valley Tunnel, if they are, there will be buses running and it will take too long to ride the train, but if the city is not doing work I’ll catch the N-Judah in and take a car home.

There’s a little party for the cohort to celebrate finishing up our first year together after class tomorrow.

I am not super interested in going, I joked with a fellow student, I really would like to sleep, but I also know that despite having old knees, this lady likes to cut a rug.

So.

I’ll make an appearance and be grateful for that.

That is a change too.

Granted one I never saw coming.

She was bent over a crack pipe in the alley on Minna Street between 11th and 10th, I could smell the crack cooking and shuddered.

Thank God for change.

Thank God I got to change.

Thank God I’m not sitting on a piece of cardboard on Minna Street smoking crack.

Been there.

Done that.

My luxury problems are a gift.

My body a gift.

My home, this life, my experiences, my family, my friends, my job, all the things I get to do.

All the love I get to give.

And receive.

I do not regret this new change in my life, though I am allowed a moment to mourn it, I am not definable by those things–bicycle rider, tattooed dragon girl, Burning Man nanny–I am just discovering another layer or myself, my identity, my person.

As long as I love as hard as I can.

Show up to the best of my ability.

And.

Am my complete and honest self in the moment.

I will be ok.

No matter what change comes.

Good or bad.

It’s all God.

It’s all good.

It’s all.

Really.

Just.

Love.

Love.

 


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