Dance Party

Because ain’t nobody watching and I need to move my body.

And why the hell not?

I’m officially on day, what, three of shelter in place, and it’s getting goofy in here.

I live in a one room studio.

Thank God I have a deck.

My own deck, not my landlords, no access to anyone else, a good distance away from the neighbors, on the second floor, above the backyard that is never used (it’s a tangled jungle of over grown weeds and bushes), my deck floats, a little tiny haven.

A tiny piece of heaven.

With two white Adirondack chairs and flowers in pots from Sloat Garden Center that I bought a few months ago when only the faintest of faint whispers of the corona virus where in the air.

I do have to say, though, it felt like something was coming.

I didn’t think it was a virus.

I thought maybe the tech bubble was going to burst in San Francisco again.

I moved to SF a little while after the bubble burst and I was also here during the crash, it had the same feeling, something was looming.

But this?

I had not predicted this.

Shut in, shut down, shut away.

So yeah, I got my dance party on for a little while tonight, I still have the music going nice and loud.

I am alive.

I am in good health.

I am sheltered.

I am really grateful.

I am extraordinarily grateful.

I can still work.

I am still “seeing” clients.

Not in person anymore, I was the last woman standing in the building where my office is on Monday, I had thought I was going to have a full week of connecting one last time with my clients and I had just literally sent out emails to all my clients saying I could meet until March 23rd.

I was actually upset the first time I got that date from my agency, I was petulant, don’t tell me when I have to stop seeing clients in person, but I also recognized that this was not about me and that I needed to follow along, especially since I work for an agency and they are the ones signing my paycheck.

The money from my clients does not go into my pocket.

It goes into my bank account that my agency controls–I can put money in, but I can’t take money out.

So.

Yeah.

Need to comply, even if I felt really secure in my health and the protocols I was taking at my office to make sure that it was clean and sanitary and safe.

Sigh.

Therefor I was a bit bereft to get the email saying wrap it up and switch over to telehealth by the 23rd.

I stomped my foot a little, but I did draft all the emails and I did comply.

And then.

Ha.

Shelter in place was announced.

Literally twenty minutes after sending out the last client email saying, hey (much more formal, thank you, I’m not a complete heathen) there, happy to continue seeing you at my office, unless you don’t feel comfortable, then we can do video or telehealth, but yeah, I’m here all week.

Nope.

I am not in fact.

I get the email from my agency saying shelter in place is going into affect and I have to the end of day to see clients.

Well.

Fuck.

I craft a new email and start sending them out, while also fielding emails from clients who were coming in that day who didn’t want to anymore because, mother fuck, got to run to the grocery store and secure more toilet paper and beans and rice.

More sighs.

Of the five client sessions I had scheduled, one showed up in person, two did a video session, one rescheduled for later in the week and the other said, hey, we’ll get back to you once we figure out our lives.

More sighs.

I didn’t charge any cancellations fees, I sent out copious telehealth consent forms, I got myself together and I went into my office to see my last face to face client for who knows how long.

The shelter in place is at least until April 7th.

I have to say, I think it may go longer than that.

So I also did some pro-active things on my end.

Because even though I can work from home, I knew I was going to lose clients.

Lost one today.

And client sessions, either due to cancellations, clients running out of money who aren’t working, parents homeschooling kids, panic, fear of financial insecurity, etc.

That I knew I had to take care of myself.

I paid April rent early.

I reworked my spending plan and I cut out $700.

I might even be able to trim a little more.

I’m obviously not going anywhere.

I canceled, ugh, my trip to San Luis Obispo and my weekend at the Madonna Inn.

Bless their hearts, they gave me a full refund on my room.

Which I promptly spent stocking up on food and toiletries at Rainbow Co-op.

I have actually never spent as much as I did on one grocery shopping trip.

Mostly because I bought coffee in bulk (y’all worried about toilet paper, I’m making sure I can sustain my caffeine needs) and toiletries in triplicate.

I did buy plenty of food too.

My fridge has more in it than I think I ever have seen.

I shop two to three times a week since I don’t eat sugar and flour, I cook a lot and I eat fresh foods.

I managed to secure a lot o fresh stuff, but I also did get food to prepare and freeze and can.

And back up of my favorite breakfast foods and some nice sugar free chocolate, because I’m going to need a damn treat once in a while.

And though I cannot see where this all leads, I can see that I am really lucky that I live in my own beautiful space.

It may be a studio, but I don’t have room mates.

And.

Oh thank God.

I live two blocks from the beach.

So every day I have gone outside and walked to the ocean and watched the surfers still paddling out and felt the wind on my face and walk through Golden Gate Park and breathed in deeply the fresh air.

There are people out, but we give each other wide berth and there is much kindness when doing so.

There may come a time when I can’t go out and walk, but fingers crossed that won’t happen.

I do know, though, I cannot peer into the future and I can’t live in the anxiety of not knowing.

I have to stay present and presented minded and strong.

I have therapy clients to help.

I have service to do.

I need to stay focused and clear.

Which is why dance party.

I had to shake the ya ya’s out.

Big love to you and yours.

Be gentle and stay in good health.

And.

When the mood strikes.

Dance.

Really.

No one is looking.

Je t’ai Dans la Peau

 

My tattoo is but days old.

Did you realize, my love, my sweet—

My heart.

(you have flown off with it yet again)

That when you spoke to me of me,

My impact on you.

My love for you.

 

My effect on your life–

 

You spoke to me in the

PAST TENSE.

Not in the present.

Not in the future.

All in the past.

 

Le passe compose

 

My least favorite tense in French, darling.

Post haste my love.

Post box full of love notes for you.

Photos of you in my phone.

My God you are gaunt.

The weight you have lost running.

Running away from us.

Running away from me.

Running away from yourself.

 

Running down to the sea,

Bare headed before the moon.

On your knees in the sand.

Sobbing.

I heard you there, your cries echoed in my bones.

I wept with you.

 

But not near you.

 

Tous les jours

Je fait l’amour.

Tous les jours.

 

All my wants/hope/dreams

All in the imperfect past.

 

Thus, am I to embody this grief.

My back crawls with it, the itch of sorrow.

Keening again as the crow flies.

You.

 

&

 

Me.

 

Bunny.

 

Out on a limb flowered with pain

Petals of sorrow,

Whisper soft sweet

Scratched on to my back

 

 

My back, my back, flat on my back

Holding my breath waiting for it to end.

Feeling the cold  tile pressed pattern of squares

Ground into the small of my back.

 

 

I was so cold, it was so, so cold.

Like.

Sugar drowned in milk.

 

And then.

All the waiting.

The waiting for you.

All those years.

All those decades.

I danced down so many roads,

Waiting for you.

 

And now.

This journey of a thousand miles,

This journey of a thousand tears—

Leaves me with nothing to do but wipe the blood from my back.

Wipe the tears from my face

(In every flower I see your face)

Stand up, stand back.

Rise anew.

Crafted in the cloak of my being.

Ever present.

Ever perfect.

Ever here.

Croaked the crow.

Ever more.

My love.

Never more, my love.

Yet.

Ever yours, my love.

Back In The Groove

Second day back to work.

Second day with clients.

A day of therapy.

A day of supervision.

I’m beginning to feel more grounded and returned than I was yesterday.

Hell.

Definitely more so than Sunday.

Sunday my flight out from D.C. was delayed so I didn’t get to do a lot of the things that I had told myself I was going to do.

In the end I am hella grateful that the flight was delayed.

I was able to spend a few more hours with my best friend and that time was invaluable to me.

I had such a fantastic time I cannot even begin to enumerate it here.

It was also a lovely weekend away from social media and perhaps the first time that I also stayed completely off my blog.

I was happy to do so.

I was happy to be present and connected and aware of all the things happening for me.

I was horrified to get back to social media and see a school shooting and that a person in my recovery community had overdosed and died.

I was like.

Fuck.

Is it worth it to even bother with Facecrack?

I do like Instagram, I won’t lie, I like photographs and I find it really compelling to see different places that I want to go and travel too as well as appreciating images from my friends lives.

I have a private Instagram account, so I’m not overly inundated with crap, but Facebook has really not been a platform that I have enjoyed in some time.

I don’t post much to it and I don’t like to spend too much time on it.

I check in with it, mostly I feel to stay connected to my cohort at school, we have a group and there is often things that get posted there that are relevant to my school program.

Hell.

That was how I found out about the graduation application and processing fee.

I was able to deal with it a full three weeks prior to some members in my cohort who didn’t know that there was an application, let a lone a fee, for graduation.

I received the last bit of the application paperwork that needed to be filled out today.

I sent in the survey that the school requires as a sort of exit from the program and sent it in.

One more thing down.

And speaking of school.

This is it.

I have to get my PhD application together by the end of this week.

I just took a look at my syllabi for the next weekend of classes and saw that I have a modicum of breathing space.

I don’t have to devote any time to homework for school this weekend, I’m ahead of my reading and my assignments that are due aren’t due until March 10th.

Which means that I have the weekend of March 3rd and 4th to work on them.

Which means that this weekend, which is what I had pretty much planned on doing anyway, is clear to work on my PhD application.

I don’t think it will take too much time, but I do want to put in a nice effort on it.

And I still have a full weekend anyway.

I’ll be back in my group supervision on Saturday, and my Thursday and Friday are both full of clients.

I saw a new client tonight and I have another new client on Friday.

I’m back to eight clients a week.

I also will be meeting with my ladies on Sunday that I normally work with and my person up in the Castro before my new commitment on Sunday at 7:30p.m.

I want to do yoga, it’s been two weeks without, and I desperately need a manicure.

I have a busy weekend.

I have a busy week, it’s just Tuesday and it’s already been busy.

But.

It hasn’t been horrendous.

It was a gentler easing back into my routine than I could have asked for.

Today I had therapy, such a good session, and after I got out of the session, I received a text from the mom that my little lady charge was sick and they had a pediatrician appointment.

It happened to be just blocks from where I was and the mom asked that I meet them at the doctor’s office.

I had enough time between my therapy session ending and having to meet the mom that I was able to pop into the Whole Foods in Noe Valley and get groceries for the week.

A huge time coup for me.

Then I met the mom and the baby was asleep and I got to take him and stroll down 24th street and go to Martha’s Bros Coffee and the bench outside the cafe opened as I walked out with my coffee and I got to sit in the sun and drink coffee and soak up some heat.

It’s been cold, cold, cold in the city.

And to sit, granted wrapped up in my hoodie, jean jacket, scarf, and half-gloves, in the sun as it warmed up the front of the cafe, was glorious.

My job can be really stressful juggling three kids, house work, cooking, cleaning, laundry, errands, and such, but it can also have these absolutely wonderful pockets of time that pop out of nowhere, when I need some time, a reprieve, a gentle break in routine.

And I find myself being able to be still.

To be able to reflect.

It is a gift.

I spent a lot of time thinking about my time in D.C. and how very grateful I was to get to go.

To see the things I saw.

To have the experiences I had.

Glorious.

The company, the environment, the quality of the time.

Exquisite.

And so very much-needed.

It was a sorrow to part.

I won’t lie.

It hurt to say goodbye after such a grand time and I felt desolate coming back to San Francisco, which is not an experience I have much had.

Usually I find myself happy to come home.

And I am happy to be home, but I already miss my friend.

Hell.

I missed my friend before I had even gotten to the boarding area of my flight back.

In a way I was also grateful for that.

It showed me just how much the time had meant to me.

A lot.

So much.

So very much.

I can get lonely in my routine and my comings and goings and doings and I had such splendid time with my friend that I found myself facing some loneliness coming home that I don’t usually acknowledge.

Thankful for it too, that realization, and those emotions tied to it.

I have such a rich emotional life.

I am aware.

I am alive.

I am loved.

I love.

Simple.

Although not always easy.

A blessing always, though.

Always.

A gift.

This exquisite life.

This grand love.

The.

Greatest.

Gift.

Bonked But Not Broken

Perhaps a touch tender, but for a minute I thought I was going to actually get a shiner.

Fortunately I only cut my brow bone.

How did this happen you ask?

Eagerly going in for the salad at Gus’s Market’s salad bar.

I didn’t see that the glass partition was raised, whomever had restocked the salad bar hadn’t lowered the shield and I didn’t see it.

Not at all.

I smacked right into it.

“OW!”

I said and then I started laughing, what kind of idiot I must have looked like?  I’m glad I could laugh at myself, it really was sort of funny, like someone smacking into a glass window while walking out to the patio.

I chuckled pretty hard and the guy across the way said, also laughing, “that is exactly the kind of stuff that happens to me, I’m glad I’m not alone.”

“Here to be of service,” I laughed again and got my salad.

I actually hurt myself worse than I thought.

I was standing in line to check out when I realized I could feel something dripping down my eye.

Oh my God!  Am I bleeding?

I paid for my salad and La Croix and popped open the camera app on my phone and turned it to selfie mode.

Yup.

Sure as shit, I was bleeding.

I asked one of the cashiers for the manager, who hustled right over.

I took off my glasses, explained what happened and asked for a band-aid.

I in hindsight I was pretty damn calm and I wasn’t upset about it and I wasn’t going to make a fuss, although a tiny petty part of me was like, “buy my salad!” But I was actually just really aware of how I felt internally, that I was happy, joyful, spiritually attuned, and not really ready to pull a class action law suit against the manufacturer of shield glass on salad bar.

I took the band-aid, went to the bathroom, washed the blood off and put the band-aid on.

I actually looked kind of cute.

I had just come from a holiday ladies brunch and holiday party and had dressed up for the occasion.

The band-aid added a certain kind of tough aplomb to my outfit.

The brunch was also the reason why I felt as good as I did.

I had gotten to reconnect with ladies in my fellowship and community that I have sorely missed over the semester of busy.

It felt so good to sit and chat and catch up and see how folks were doing.

I even got a client referral from one of the women there who is a licensed MFT.

That felt really good.

In fact, the whole day felt really good.

I had a great supervision group.

Nobody noticed my eye, the bleeding stopped pretty quick and though I have a tiny bump and an obvious cut, it’s hidden quite well by my glasses frame, and I got to have a merry check in about all my adventures the last two weeks.

Last week I wasn’t in supervision as I was in class so my supervision group wanted to hear all about the lecture and how my semester had finished.

And one of the other interns, who has been there over a year, talked to me about a possible client referral, and he said, “you’re an amazing therapist.”

I just about broke out into a blush.

Later I thanked him for saying it and he added on, “not only are you an amazing therapist, you’re just an amazing person, you really have so much to give.”

I just was so struck by the sweetness of it and we hugged and wished each other happy holidays.

So nice.

Then!

Oh my gosh.

I run into a woman I used to work with at Hawthorne Lane, the fine dining restaurant that was my first job in San Francisco.

It turns out she has an office in the same building that my internship is in!

I was so happy to see her, it felt really good to reconnect and see how well she was doing, she had a big cancer scare a few years back while I was in Paris and to see her healthy and happy and ask after her husband and son felt super sweet.

She told me how great I looked and how happy she was to hear how I was doing, she was in awe that I was heading into my last semester of my Masters program.

Validation galore today.

Then off across town in my pretty little car to do some Christmas shopping.

And may I just say, how nice it is to have a tiny little car.

Aside from the fact that she is so adorable and cute, she’s teeny and I found parking in a spot that no one else could possibly have fit.

As well as when I got home tonight, squeezed right into the tiny spot on my block that almost always is open.

Then some Christmas shopping.

And.

Oh.

Yes.

A little holiday sparkle manicure.

Because.

Glitter.

Then back across town to the NOPA and getting right with God and connecting with my folks there.

So good.

I also found out that two of my friends who I had thought were going to be out-of-town for Christmas are in town.

We made some got to go dancing plans.

That felt really good.

Then the drive home, warm and cozy in my car listening to Music to Slow Dance to, a playlist that I am just in love with, and yup, there was my parking spot waiting for me.

And.

When I got in.

Mail.

Man, I love getting holiday mail.

I have a little garland of stars and green box twine that I hang my Christmas cards to, I got to add two in the last day.

The mail made me very happy.

A birthday card and a Christmas card from my grandmother.

She’s my last grandparent alive.

I was over the moon.

Last year she forgot my birthday and that sort of bummed me out.

But she didn’t this year!

It just felt extra special sweet.

And that was my day.

Sweet.

Funny.

Special in quiet ways.

Tender and in love.

Happy.

And I just signed up for a yoga class tomorrow morning.

Plus.

Yes.

I may let myself go do a little birthday shopping tomorrow.

Because.

Well.

I’m going to be the birthday girl real soon.

And it feels nice to get myself something sweet for my birthday.

Without sounding facetious.

I deserve it.

I work really hard.

But I have no complaints about that.

It is something I get to do.

My life is grand.

Full of love and light and joy.

Happy.

Happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Luckiest girl in the world.

What I Should Do

Versus what I am going to do.

Which is blog.

I should just got to bed, I had a ten-hour work day with the family I nanny for and then I had two clients this evening after work.

I got home 49 minutes ago.

Threw laundry in the dryer, chatted on the phone, threw some food in a pan and ate some dinner.

I should just go to bed.

Right?

I’ve got school tomorrow, a client tomorrow, plans in the evening, more school Saturday, school Sunday, a narrative I have to completely fucking re-write on Sunday for “People Who Usually Don’t Lecture,” I have no days off.

I won’t have a day of for some time yet.

Although.

Whatever.

I will have some day time free coming up soon–the family I nanny for will be out-of-town the 16th through the 26th.

I will have some down time.

I will have plenty to do seeing clients at night, but a lot of my clients are gone for the holiday and I will have off completely, like nothing at all on the books for the Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday of Thanksgiving week.

I’ll spend the actual holiday with my person and some fellows here in the city, but aside from that, I will have some big swaths of time off.

So sure.

I’ve got to be up early and I should just go to bed, but, of course, now that I’m home and ensconced in my bunny slippers with some food in my tummy and some water, I feel bright and alert again.

I also had a couple of really good sessions with my clients and there is something so energizing about that, not thinking of myself for an hour, paying close attention to another, being really present and empathetic.

It can be draining and I have had challenging sessions and have felt zapped to bits afterward, but that didn’t happen tonight.

I had the, “I really like being a therapist!” moment again tonight after my last client left.

And I just floated out of my office and zipped home on my scooter.

I’m hoping I can use my scooter tomorrow.

There is some rain forecasted, but I might be able to hit the window.

The rain looks late morning and early afternoon.

If I can get to school before it hits I should be in class longer than the predicted rain, thus allowing me to get out after the rain and get to my internship.

I have just one client tomorrow and I am coordinating an earlier session time with her so that I might just maybe have a few minutes to do some homework and some grocery shopping, because God only fucking knows when I will get to it otherwise.

I’m really keeping my fingers crossed that the weather will allow me to ride.

I just get here and there and around so much faster, it’s so efficient.

Although, I hate riding in the rain and I won’t ride if I get up tomorrow and it’s raining.

I’ll either take the train in or grab a car.

I want to get up early too and get in a shower and shave and pack up my stuff.

I will probably be taking my laptop with me so that I can do some work on it.

I don’t like doing that, but I also will have time between the end of my classes in the afternoon and whenever my client rolls in.

I may have two hours and that’s a lot of homework reading to whip through.

And a good deal of the reading I have left to do is online.

Which I do not like, but that’s what it is.

I can hardly even believe that I’m in class tomorrow, it feels surreal.

I have not been anxious, oh, a little, I always am a tiny bit before the weekend of classes commences, but nothing like it was before.

I know I can get through the weekend on slight sleep.

I know that I just have to show up.

I know that I need to participate.

But ultimately.

My focus is on my personal life, my work life, and my clients.

I am not really as wrapped up in the school work and the class room time and my weeks are full so that the time in between class weekends seems to have gone by quite quickly.

After this weekend I will have one more weekend of classes and then the semester is over!

That is the best.

Then.

Oh.

One more semester.

In which I will only have three classes, as opposed to the SIX I have now.

Did you know that?

I’m running six classes, working full to over time hours at my job and seeing 8 clients a week.

I am amazed that I have gotten to have any time for play.

But it sneaks in there.

I get brief little blissful moments.

Kisses of time.

Nibbles of passion and sweetness.

Not enough.

No.

Not enough by far.

But enough to sustain.

Just get me through this semester I keep telling myself, I can do this, just get through this semester.

Life will not always be at this pace and I will find more time for myself and my pursuits.

I don’t want to work hard to just work hard all the time.

I want to connect.

I want to dance cheek to cheek.

I want to sleep in.

I mean.

Maybe that’s a stretch.

How about I want to sleep 8 hours.

That would be hella sexy.

I want to read a book that is not psychology related.

I mean.

How nice would that be?

All the things on my mind.

No wonder I am not ready to go to bed right now.

And you know.

That’s ok.

I’ll get rest.

(when I’m dead)

When I want something badly enough.

I will get it.

I know what I need.

I have a lot of clarity around that recently.

I think I understand.

Love.

That’s all I need.

And a little self-knowledge.

It goes a long fucking way.

Seriously.

 

 

Bye Bye

Faceplant.

I took Facebook off my phone today.

It gave me a great big scary warning about losing content and I was like, what the fuck ever.

Let me lose political arguments.

Terror.

Sniping.

Ugliness.

Trauma.

Policy intrigue.

And frankly a great big suck of my time.

I was on Facebook a bit more than I typically am via my phone today as the baby was sick and the only way to nap was to get him in the carrier and rock him until he could sleep.

It took a while and the screaming was tremendous, mostly just because the poor little guy was exhausted, he has croup.

In fact.

All my little monkeys have it.

Thanks to some kids who came to school sick last week and it spread like wildfire.

So today I had two boys, both who were sick and not so happy.

I did get to have them out in the world today as I helped the mom with some errands and for a very sweet hour I had the baby napping in the stroller and my big guy curled up on my lap telling me stories while he nibbled a pastry from Arizmendi bakery.

I got sunshine on my face, good snuggles, and sweet connection.

So.

When we got back to the house and I had the baby again I ended up being on my phone a bit, but the more I was on it, the more annoyed I got.

I have been contemplating taking myself off Facebook entirely, since the current administration and even a bit before it, I was beginning to have a lot of negative feelings about the forum.

First of all.

It’s extraordinarily challenging, I find, to see horror story after horror story, the fires in Sonoma and Napa, the mass gun shooting in Vegas, the hurricane in Puerto Rico, to name just a few, all the celebrity and musician deaths, deaths in my community and fellowship, the suicide at Burning Man, Jesus fuck, all of it and more, and then see Facebook selling me shit.

I am at once terrorized by the horror show of the world and then I am being sold some period panties, or a dress or high heels or what the fuck?

I can’t take in both information.

I can’t want to look at a pair of shoes and then feel extraordinary guilt that I can buy a pair of shoes when people in Puerto Rico haven’t had electricity for a month.

I can’t see story after story after story of women who have been raped and sexually assaulted and then see an ad for a dating site.

Fuck off.

It’s too much.

So.

When I found myself being disturbed, I put down my phone and I focused on what was happening right there in the moment.

I looked at the room I was in.

I felt the weight of the baby on my chest, his warmth and heaviness.

And then I closed my eyes.

Oh.

Why.

This is lovely!

I meditated and then.

Yes.

It happened.

I fell asleep!

I had what I like to call “naptation.”

It’s the best ever.

I couldn’t have slept more than ten minutes, a nap snack if you will, but wow, I felt so much better and refreshed and not irate at the world and upset.

I was present.

It was pretty damn nice.

Then.

Later at my office when I went into see my clients I realized that looking at social media tends to destabilize me and there have been more than a few incidents when I will be idly flipping through Facebook and see something disturbing and then I’m lost in la la land and minutes fly by and I’ve been sucked in and I’m upset now.

Well, fuck me, that’s not how I want to hold my therapy frame.

No.

I want to be calm and serene and ready and empathic to whatever my client brings in, not whatever algorithm Facebook has my feed on.

Fuck that.

So.

I deleted it off my phone.

Yes.

I do still have an account.

And I did not delete the messenger app.

I actually use that more often than one would think, especially with my classmates.

And, irony, school is one of the reasons I won’t get rid of it entirely, my cohort has a closed private group where we facilitate conversations about school and I have found the connection really important.

Facebook still has some things that I want to keep and there are friends and family that are out-of-town that I like to keep in touch with.

But.

No more on my phone.

I don’t like it and I don’t like how often I can be pulled out of the moment, out of the present, and away into something else.

I want to be present for what or whom is in front of me.

I remember when I realized that I could turn off the volume on my phone when I went to bed and not be woken up by a beep or ping or tweet.

I haven’t put my phone in night mode, except once accidentally, that was hilarious, yet, but I am close to doing that as well.

No interruptions.

Just pure sweet sleep.

I also try very hard to turn off my phone and put it away when I am with someone, I don’t like how distracting it is.

As I lean in more to being a therapist as I see what works for me and how I can better show up for friends, for those I love, for my fellowship and my clients, I lean further and further away from social media.

It was such a lot of fun, but it stopped being fun a long time ago.

When I stopped posting my blog to social media I noticed a distinct shift in how I use it and I have to say, I really don’t need the validation of people commenting on my blog from Facebook.

I missed it for a little while, but what I realized, what I have always known, is that the process of writing is what is important.

If someone gets something from what I write, well, huzzah, but ultimately, it is for me and I am grateful for that, that I kept it up and that I continue to do so and I can give a fuck about Facebook.

I think it will get along very well without me.

Probably won’t notice at all that I am gone.

And that is fine with me.

I don’t mind living under the radar.

That’s where the interesting stuff happens most of the time anyway.

Seriously.

When Flowers Are Needed

There is love to be had.

In the giving.

In the receiving.

How touched I am.

How tearful and over awed and resplendent with feeling.

The gift.

It is perfect.

It is.

You know me.

The gift is perfect because you know me.

It is thoughtful.

When so many others have been thoughtless.

I cannot count the number of times.

Too many to count.

I could use all my fingers, all my limbs.

If I had a nickel for each one.

Well.

Perhaps I would not buy a house.

But I could have a very nice meal.

Very nice.

All the times.

Those gifts from thoughtless people.

Who.

Perhaps were not thoughtless, they gave me a gift, they thought of me.

What they thought of me was not me though.

It was a projection of what they wanted me to be.

You.

Oh, you.

On the other hand.

My magic man.

You see me.

You gave me something full of thought.

Full of heart.

Full of love.

Tender and endearing and whisperwhip sweet.

The puddle I found myself in.

When I opened it.

Abashed and eager all at the same time.

The joy of being known.

It feels like barn swallows at dusk swooping through the air.

It sounds like crickets in the high grass.

It sings to me of warm air at night so thick and replete with moisture that there is

No telling where your skin ends and the night begins.

It smells like lilacs in the high heat of summer in the Midwest.

It is the swelter of blush on my face.

It is everything.

You are everything.

How do you know me so well?

Transparent.

Taken.

And.

Complimented.

 

This love, love.

It is my undoing.

And my completing.

Pressed flowers in a book.

Taken and touched.

Daisychains and garlands.

My heart.

The center of a flower.

Nurtured and nourished.

The translucence of love.

For you.

Simple and sincere.

I bloom.

Almost Got It

I thought I was social media dark on my blog last night when I posted.

Except.

Ha.

I was still linked to Twitter.

Figured it out pretty quick, went and deleted off Twitter, and it didn’t link to Facecrack and now, well, I’ve disconnected any sharing on the blog.

It’s just you and me and a couple of friends.

Shhhh.

Part of me want to let out some big scary secret.

But there’s no big scary thing to let out of the bag.

I am a pretty happy lady.

I had today off.

What?

I know.

A Friday.

Off.

My family that I work for is still super sick and I got the message last night after I logged off my blog that they thought it better for me to take off today as well and they’d see me Monday.

I have to say I was sorry for them, but also so grateful, I really don’t know what I would have done had I gotten a severe flu bug.

I hate vomiting.

I mean really bad.

So I’ll happily take my pass and take the day off.

I didn’t sleep in, I got up and went to an early yoga class.

But after that I did take a really mellow day for myself.

I balanced the check book, paid the phone bill, did lots of writing, got in some laundry.

Then I scooted over to Nordstrom Rack and spent a lot of time trying on clothes that didn’t work for me.

I had some high hopes, but the retail therapy was not to be had.

Then again, it wasn’t a total loss, I got a bra, two tank tops, two pairs of panties, some body lotion and some mascara.

It was worth the trip, just to pick up a couple of staples.

Sure.

I had hoped for a new summery dress or maybe a pair of pretty shoes, but fact is, I have bought myself some nice things recently and I don’t really need to do more shopping.

I was looking for something to keep my brain occupied.

It turns out that a woman I have been working with for the past three and a half years is no longer available to work with me and we had a long talk on the phone as I stood by my scooter in the parking lot at Nordstrom Rack.

The blue sky coming through the sky light, the cars parking, the sound of a shopping cart going by and someone who loves me saying, I have loved working with you but it’s time for you to find someone else.

I have never been let go quite like this.

In fact.

I have never been let go.

I have always been the one to find another person to work with.

It was definitely an experience.

Now.

The funny thing is, not funny haha, but interesting, odd, is it odd?

Or God?

I think.

Well.

I believe.

It was God.

As I have prayed a lot over the last week about the relationship.

Something was said to me last week when we met that hurt my feelings deeply and though there was some repair in the moment when she realized how hurt I was, there was still an underlying wounding that I carried with me for days.

I just didn’t know what to make of it.

It came out in my therapy session Tuesday morning.

And.

Well.

Yes.

As a matter of fact.

I bawled my damn eyes out.

Then I worked through it.

Then.

Later that day when I was checking in with someone else.

I got mad.

I mean.

ANGRY.

I was yelling cunt in a church courtyard, so yeah, maybe livid might even be an emotional marker.

I did calm down.

I did write a lot of inventory.

Then I sat on it for a couple of days and really just let myself calm the fuck down.

Thank God for getting to yoga three times in a row this week.

Totally took the edge off.

That praying and writing and more writing and then I did it.

I called, left a message, said what I was feeling and let go of the results.

The results?

I was let go.

And I have no regrets.

Not a one.

I was honest and I know that there was no bitterness in the parting and I’m grateful for the time we got to work together and I’m grateful that I get to have a new experience with another person.

Before it was happening I had felt this dread and sadness and overwhelm, how the fuck am I going to find another person to work with?

I’m too busy.

But.

When it happened.

I knew that it was right.

And I knew that I wasn’t being dropped.

If anything it was God doing for me what I could not do for myself.

I get to have a new experience with a new person and I will get to grow and find out new things and have a new perspective and until that person comes into my life, I’m held by my community and I am not worried.

I am loved.

I am enough.

And I learned a lot.

Some of which I can’t share here as it’s just not my place.

But.

Suffice to say there was deep learning here.

And a deep gratitude for my community and for the people I talked to over the last few days and today and for feeling held and loved and having that love reflected back to me.

I know that I’m still going to have some feelings.

Abandonment.

Not lovable.

Not enough.

Yada, yada, yada.

Victim.

Martyr.

But.

They will pass.

And I will come out the other side stronger and better and more graceful.

Whenever God has “taken” something or someone from me I have been given the gift that he was waiting to put into my hands but I was too busy holding onto something that didn’t work out of some misplaced idea that I could fix it and make it better.

Not realizing God had the solution right in front of me.

My hands are empty.

I am now able to receive.

My heart is ready.

I will walk through this.

I have to.

There is not another choice.

There is only the present.

And all the gifts inherent.

I am loved.

And that is enough.

It always is.

It’s The Weekend!

No it’s not.

I mean.

Technically, yes, it’s Friday and tomorrow I will get up and go to yoga as I have been doing on the weekends, but instead of having the day to do with what I would, I will be working.

I’m ok with it.

Not thrilled.

But.

Ok.

First.

Let’s be frank.

The extra money is nice.

I just paid rent and I’m not skint, not be a long shot, but I am short and since the whole out-of-pocket dentist deal, I’ve been a little more paycheck to paycheck then I would like to be.

Overall.

There’s nothing to worry about.

And hey.

I just applied for some more student loans!

Yay.

Gah.

So, there’s that.

I decided that I will not sabotage my holiday plans to Paris, I have been saving up for this and I have been holding onto my tax return specifically to go to Paris, to have my ten days and eat them too, drink the cafes, eat the art, walk the streets, wander through the arrondissements, walk the parks, sit and watch the Parisians go by, I deserve this vacation.

I have been working my ass off.

I decided to apply for the summer financial aid that is being offered for my program instead of dipping into my travel fund.

It’s school.

It’s not cocaine.

So.

I don’t want to hear it.

Plus.

My student loans are the only debt I have, I don’t have credit cards or anything outstanding on my scooter–bought that in cash–I have no debt of any kind nor have I in some time, I’m ok with taking out a little more.

I’m paying for it either way and I also realized that though I am ok with paying the therapy once a week out-of-pocket, it would be nice to throw some of my financial aid at that as well, since technically I do have to do it for my degree.

Anyway.

The long and short of it is that I’m not going to live in financial fear, I am going to take care of myself, and the money that I will get for working over the weekend for the family will be nice.

And

Yes.

In cash.

No taxes taken out, thank you very much.

I’m also happy to do it to help out the family, the mom has been so appreciative of my help and flexibility with them, especially with dad traveling for work, that it doesn’t seem that much of an imposition.

Plus.

I have done my school work and I’m pretty much prepped for next weekends classes.

Unusual to have it all done, except for a bit of reading I’ll address next week, and not to have any papers I have to write the weekend before, for which I’m really grateful.

I also know that I will be having fun adventures with my charges, I’m going to get them out of the house and either off to the Academy of Sciences, the Zoo, or the Exploratorium.

We will not be going to the Upper Noe Valley Rec center, as lovely as that can be, we will be having a field trip.

And it’s going to be good weather.

And I will get to yoga before work and go do the deal afterward.

The time will pass and I won’t be doing super long days, just six hours.

I am a little tired, I won’t lie, but I have also paced myself well this week, gotten out to do the deal every night, seen folks, spoken, shared, did service, took care of what needed to be taken care of, shared experience, strength, hope, and got decent sleep all week.

Not bad.

I even got flowers from the mom today at work for doing such a nice job for them this week.

I was totally not expecting that and it was so sweet and touching, I teared up a little.

This job is such a gift.

I am a very lucky girl.

I got smiles from the baby today.

Snuggles from both the older kids.

I got to see my former charges at school pickup.

And.

Ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles (not for me, but for the kids) from Bi-Rite Ice Creamery.

Vicarious joy.

I had an amazing afternoon start with the mom and solo time with the baby I wasn’t expecting, it was the first time I was left completely on my own with the baby and it felt like a really nice thing, an affirmation of my abilities, but also a trusting and that was nice.

Things are good.

Life is full.

The days are longer, full of sunshine and I feel brighter too.

Certainly more accepting of myself and my process with my job, where I am at with the internship, the fact, god damn, the fucking fact, that I have all the paperwork signed and turned in, that I navigated this deal since December and have it ready to go and that I’ll be starting in summer, a full semester before I need to, that I get to start accruing my hours really soon.

Like.

In two months.

I start my internship May 22nd.

The day after I get back from Paris.

That date is actually for the paperwork, my supervisor looked up at me, pushed his glasses up his nose and said, “well, let’s just put the 22nd down for your start, but I think we’ll start you on the 23rd, give you a day to get over your jet lag.”

Much appreciated.

Damn.

I’m 3/4s of the way through the semester, two weekends of work left, three papers, a bunch of reading, but really, I’m getting there.

Then.

Paris.

So happy I bought the ticket.

My life is a dream.

Especially when I see it through the perspective of the service I get to do, just by showing up and letting others bear witness to my process and journey.

So many gifts.

Life.

Lived.

Moment to moment.

In.

This.

The.

Present.

Why, Yes, That Is Correct

I am making chicken and rice soup with vegetables right now.

Yes.

At 9 p.m. at night with terrible and gusty winds.

Chicken soup is super homey and I felt in need of throwing together a pot.

Plus.

I had the time.

And.

It doesn’t take too much time.

I have it down to a science and since I roasted a chicken yesterday I figured I would whip up some soup when I got home and had dinner.

The soup will be done in less than a half hour.

I’ll freeze some and can the rest.

Lunch and dinner for the week.

Easy to just grab a Mason jar of chicken soup with rice and head out the door.

I normally would make the soup on the same night I roast the chicken, but I hung out with a friend yesterday in the afternoon and had coffee.

I am practicing reaching out to people and connecting when I feel lonely.

It was a perfect afternoon jaunt over to the Richmond side of the park, up to Balboa and 38th.

We went to La Promenade Cafe across the street from the Balboa Theater.

It’s a great neighborhood cafe with lots of tables and nooks and crannies and couches.

It was surprisingly packed yesterday with students and laptops, but also with gamers.

I didn’t even recognize most of what people were playing, but I felt happy to be in the midst of the energy and to see people connect with one another face to face.

Rather than Facebook to Facebook.

Speaking of ye olde social media.

I had someone send me a friend request yesterday who I had unfriended a few months back for good reason and at the suggestion of my person and I also blocked his phone number and deleted his number in my phone.

Space was made and taken.

I was surprised to get the request.

Then.

Not so surprised.

And.

Then.

Surprised that I considered accepting it.

But.

In the end.

Yes.

I deleted it.

There was a reason, there is a reason, and no contact is still the best thing for me with said gentleman.

That being said.

I was happy to have made the decision to do something, even such a small thing, as deleting the request, instead of hemming, hawing re-accepting and going back into the crazy.

Sometimes I turn down crazy town road and I see that great big pothole (man-hole) that I have fallen into before and I am so tempted.

I won’t fall in this time, just watch!

Sure Lucy.

How about I just don’t try to kick that ball today?

It felt really good to take contrary action and to not engage.

Healthy like.

Sane.

Different.

I like it.

Then today when I logged into all things interwebs and was checking through I noticed that although I had deleted the friend request it showed up that said person was following my public posts.

Hmm.

I’m not so sure I want that.

I haven’t ever really thought about my privacy on Facebook.

I don’t publish political stuff on my page, in fact, any time I am tagged in a political post I remove that tag and delete it on my timeline.

Don’t post shit to my page.

Please.

And thank you.

I don’t give a fuck if our political leanings are the same, I don’t want to think about politics when I’m on social media.

Anyway.

I logged into privacy settings and holy shit.

I might as well have let the whole world know what was going on or not going on with me.

Everything was set to public.

I cannot fathom how or when I did that.

Unless I just wasn’t paying attention.

So.

I made it all private.

I figure this is good timing for me anyway.

I’ll be starting practicum soon and I should make sure my social media stuff isn’t accessible to people whom I’m not friends with.

I don’t post racy pictures of myself.

I find that kind of tacky.

That’s just my judgement.

But.

My personal stuff is my personal stuff.

And.

I have been “found” by a few guys on Tinder when I was on Tinder.

I am not on it.

Haven’t been on it for a bit now.

I took it off my phone but once in a while I would notice that I was getting hits on Instagram that seemed to be coming from Tinder.

So I got the app again on my phone and checked it out.

Sure enough.

I had to delete my account through the app before I could actually be off it.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t have it on my phone.

It was still “live” out there in the world.

Creepy.

So.

Deleted that.

Buh bye.

I’m so not opposed to sex.

I love sex.

But.

I am opposed to that particular app and I realize that yes, I prefer some intimacy, emotional, intellectual, yes, even spiritual, before I want to drop my knickers.

Like if someone from my friends group on Facebook did want to ask me out on a date, I would be down.

But.

For someone to find me on Tinder, photostalk me through Instagram, find me on Facebook and then message me, um.

NOT INTERESTED.

That particular scenario has happened three times.

I don’t expect it will again.

Boundaries.

I need to have them.

I have had nebulous, porous, wobbly boundaries, and it just ends up biting me on the ass.

Every time.

Better boundaries make for better relationships.

This is what I am learning.

Good skill to have.

I am sure I’ll waffle again, but I’m getting better and better and the change feels good and I am not watching the horror show of my own dramatic script writing.

Nope.

I’m changing the channel and getting right into the what is right in front of me, moment.

Reality is so much better than fantasy.

Fantasy feels safer.

But in the end.

For me.

It’s isolation.

And for me to isolate is to die.

I’ll pass, thanks.

Here’s to living in the present.

The gift I’m given every day.

Grateful for that.

Seriously.