Posts Tagged ‘living amends’

Hey, God, It’s Me

November 20, 2016

Carmen.

And hey, I’m listening.

I heard you and well, yes, let’s do it.

Yes please.

Yes, oh my God.

Yes, I’d like to.

Yes, yes, yes.

Heh.

I had a little serendipity come and find me this evening when I was in the student kitchen at school having my dinner break before my last class of the day.

One of the women who is in the program, but a year a head of me, came into the kitchen to get her dinner and I thought as she was putting together her dinner, I should talk to her.

I had seen her yesterday at the practicum workshop and hadn’t the time prior to class to speak with her, I had, very in passing, talked to one of the team and made a tentative appointment to see him today at lunch, but decided to have lunch with one of my friends in the cohort.

We had such a nice lunch and a good catch up.

And.

HA.

I got another invite to travel.

Not sure when I’m going to do it, but I am.

She lives in Miami.

I have always wanted to go down for Art Basel and maybe this upcoming year.

Not this year, it’s like in two weeks and I have already made all my travel plans for the year.

But it’s nice to know there’s another place for me to go and I have a living amends to make to Miami.

The last time I was there, well, I was smoking crack and wasn’t perhaps the best citizen in Dade county.

I wasn’t the worst either, let me be clear, my ex might have had that title wrapped up.

But that’s another story.

A book actually, but yes, for another day.

My friend had extended the invitation before and I just said yes this time.

When?

I don’t know, but yes, I’ll be going.

So.

Yes.

I missed the 12:30p.m. lunch appointment, but I had bumped into the person at school and I think he’d forgotten about me anyhow, he’d mistaken me for another student.

I just smiled and walked on.

Then dinner tonight.

I sat and eat my dinner, coconut curry chicken with brown rice, carrots, and cauliflower.

And a persimmon.

Have I ever told you how much I love persimmons?

So much.

To the moon and back.

A thousand times.

Just saying.

LOVE them.

And I had the little voice inside my head, say, you really should talk to her.

But I kept my silence.

Then.

She paused at the door to the kitchen.

I sat and watched her.

She was having some internal dialogue.

She turned and chuckled, acknowledged what she was saying  to herself and grabbed a cup of water from the tea kettle.

“Actually,” I smiled, “I’m glad you turned around, I saw you yesterday at the practicum workshop and I was going to see Jeff today and it didn’t happen, and well, I have a couple of questions for you.”

We talked.

She gave me all sorts of fantastic suggestions.

I asked questions.

She clarified.

It came out what my interests where, where I had thought of applying, what I needed for the site approval, when it made the best sense to apply to a site and where I should look.

She made a suggestion.

I just about died with disbelief.

What?

What?

You don’t say?

No fucking way.

Ok.

I’m so checking that out.

In our conversation I had said that I was overwhelmed a little bit, that I was a full-time nanny and that it was hard sometimes to just get my papers and reading all done on time, let alone do all the extra work that I was feeling I had to do for practicum applications.

She broke it down in nice little chunks for me.

Then I asked about references and letters of recommendation and then I had a thought.

And it was like she read my mind.

Spooky.

“Wait, you’re a nanny?” She asked.

“Yes, I’ve been doing it professionally for the last ten years,” I replied.

“And you’re interested in psychodynamics and psychoanalysis, and Gestalt?” She cocked her head, “well, of course Church Street (where I was planning on applying, which is the Gestalt orientation school site), since you’re interested in Gestalt, but have you looked at the UCSF program for infants and mothers?”

What?

No fucking way.

Yup.

UCSF Infant Parent Program.

Well, hello.

I found it on the placement site and I’ll probably be applying there, along with the CIIS sites, Church Street, Golden Gate, and Pierce Street.

They, the administrative team for the program I’m in, recommends that you apply to 6-8 sites.

I have four in mind.

And.

I realized, um, heh, I know one of the people who I will be asking for a letter of recommendation.

One of the parents I work with as a nanny is a psychiatrist at UCSF.

Heh.

And the verbal recommendations she has given me to my face have been pretty amazing, the information she’s shared with my main employer, and the fact that she has been super kind and nice and appreciative of my efforts as her nanny, well, heck, I think I will need to ask her post-haste.

It’s nice to be making some head way around this.

It’s nice to say, I’m three-quarters of the way through the weekend of classes.

It’s really nice to say, I have two more classes then I’m free.

I’ll have to do one big presentation in Child Therapy, a big paper for Psychopathology, a 15 page assessment, and a 5-7 page paper for Family Therapy.

Two papers and one presentation to go.

Then the semester break and holidays.

Yes.

But for right now.

Well.

Fuck.

It feels good.

I have some direction.

I have some ideas.

I have a course of actions that I can begin to take and that feels really good.

So.

Excuse me while I get my snack on, some more persimmons please, and a cup of tea and a bit of a video.

Then bed.

And back to school in the morning.

One more day of classes.

Almost there.

 

Inwardly Re-arranged

October 20, 2016

I got absolutely nothing done today.

Yet.

I had astounding, life changing things happen.

All over the span of a few minutes.

All in a day.

Clear the decks.

Make way for change and with my heart in my throat I leapt.

I don’t know where I’m going to land.

It will be in new territory.

It will look exactly like what it looks like now.

Except.

That everything is different.

Violets covered in sugar crystals.

Like the best sex I never had.

Like spangles of star dust and fireworks and quiet.

An inner knowing.

An inner depth of knowledge about myself, my disease, an awareness of old pain that has settled again and instead of pain, is now stronger for having walked through the unbearable lightness of love.

Sunlight on my face.

My hair up today, the breath of the ocean warm on my skin as I got ready for work.

The books I haven’t read enough of, the paper I still need to write, the things all put on pause so that I could navigate through uncharted waters.

I know better than to go to alone.

I tearfully surrendered this morning to finally after days of being quiet, telling.

I told.

I was terrified.

I already knew the answer and I had worked through the big emotions and had the big talk with God, I knew.

I know that where love is concerned there is no choice.

However.

I don’t have to see it through my eyes only.

I get to see it through the perspectives of others, who may have a different point of view, a different way of seeing.

And he did.

And he was kind.

And there was no shame in the telling.

And I cried.

And it hurt.

And then the relief.

And then the sorrow.

And then the tears again.

And then.

Well.

I knew.

And even though only a tiny bit of the story came out.

The bones of the narrative.

It was enough.

He understood and we talked about talking more and I just did that too.

And it was kind and there was no judgement, no shaming, no making me feel bad, a warm heart, a sort of support that I have, that I am so lucky to have, that I am so grateful to have that I can keep healing and getting better.

Not that I am fucked up.

Well.

Hahaha.

Maybe a little.

But.

There’s hope for me, always has been, I’m not in this alone.

I have no details for you.

I have only the inner workings of my heart and the assurance that I am loved for who I am without question or repercussion.

That I am seen and held and loved and taken care of.

Because I asked for help to work something through, to see where it went, to untangle the knot that I got tied up in.

Glorious knot.

So sweet was it to surrender to that binding.

A surrender that lead to further surrender, further release, further soft acknowledgement of who I am, where I have come from, and to whom I belong.

To myself.

To what works best for me.

To love.

I was saying the St. Francis prayer.

Yes.

I pray.

Hush, this wilding woman with tattoos and tales of Burning Man does spirituality too.

Surprise, surprise.

There is a line in the prayer that gets me every time.

To love, rather than to be loved.

That is what I can do.

To know that I have a God.

And you have a God.

That I can only take care of myself and sometimes, a lot of the times, I don’t know how to do that, so I do, I turn towards those with more time, with more experience, with wider perspective.

And I get what I need.

And my heart, so high in my throat all day today, finally starts to ease down back into my chest, my breath back into my body, my soul careening about, high on a taut string like a diamond kite in the sky, softly, gently, sails back down, no tussle in the tree tops, nor tangled and stuck in the high wire.

But.

Soft.

There.

A gentle, sweet landing in the tall grass.

The summer grass.

The grass in the park behind the apartment building on the North East side of Madison.

The grass not yet mowed and higher in the last push of summer, the blades warm, cradling the kite, the long string I wind back up and as I turn the handle of the spool the loose fabric of the kite slides over the top of the grass and back to me.

The call of the red-winged mocking-bird.

The high blue sky.

The sun patter down on my shoulders now more freckled as I turn from the girl to the woman.

My soul, myself, my heart.

My life.

All this purposeful trudging.

It matters.

I have changed.

I stood on the roof tonight.

I held a warm little girl in my arms.

She pointed at the sky.

“Star.”

“Yes,” I said, pointing across the soft midnight blue, the last light of sunset fading behind the hills of Twin Peaks, “and plane, and satellite.”

I remembered when I was little and how the lights in the sky moved me so much, the flashing planes and the story of flight.

I have had a sort of flight today.

A lifting of my spirit into that vastness and through it all a song in my heart.

I have no answers for you.

I just have love.

Like the foam left on the beach after the waves have crashed in and rushed out.

A soft melting memory of desire seeping back into the sand, a lace of bubbles upon the shore, a dream shimmering there.

A moment.

Then gone.

Ghosting kisses on your face.

Grace in the hallway.

Swallow song in the barn of my heart.

I would take away your pain.

But I have my own to carry from the shore, across the bridge.

And into the land of a brand new day.

One foot a time.

Into the light.

Into the sun.

Into the love.

Love.

The only place left for me to go.

There.

Just there.

Love.


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