Abundance

Of tears.

Of tissues used for said tears.

Also of acknowledgements and validation and super sweet holding.

I do quite like my therapist.

I had so much happening this morning that I literally was at a loss as to where to jump in.

But jump I did.

We didn’t even cover half of what I was thinking I was going to talk about, which was fine, the one big issue I had awoken to this morning I dealt with my person on a phone call over my morning latte.

And though there was a lot of work that was done and an abundance of dumping, I even apologized at one point, I don’t normally dump, but I just had to get it all the fuck out.

She said, “bring it on, get it out.”

So I did.

It was a relief to do so.

I talked quite a bit about how much pain I have been in and how I felt like it was beginning to really make me weird in the head, she reflected that my body is working over time to keep me in balance and that it’s a hard thing to do right now.

It really is.

And it’s been pretty relentless these last few days.

I shared that I haven’t really dropped into being done with school, about how I almost fucked up my paperwork, but not really, but my head space has been foggy with dealing with getting everything done and being in pain whilst trying to do it, and that I didn’t beat myself up but that I was flummoxed at how side tracked I got doing what should have been a pretty simple tasks.

Simple tasks are not so simple when I’m busy and also trying to navigate through this experience with my body.

My sweet body that is just trying to get by and I am doing whatever I can to help it.

Second day of oatmeal for breakfast, salad for lunch, oatmeal for dinner.

I will admit, I haven’t had time to do decent food prep and not much energy for cooking when I get home.

Do a big therapy session, cry a lot, then go work a full-time shift with a teething baby and then after that go see two clients and be emotionally and empathetically available for them and expect myself to make a big fabulous dinner?

Nope.

Oatmeal.

I like oatmeal, so that’s not really an issue, but it does speak to me that there’s a lot happening inside that’s not in equilibrium.

I very much want to get back on track with my health.

I am grateful that I have an appointment soon to find out what’s happening.

And grateful for a therapist who let me dump for a while and then I got to talk about the other hard stuff.

I will be terminating a client on Thursday and there was a lot to process around the situation.

So we did that for a bit too.

And it was super helpful.

That my therapist went to the same school and did the same program as I really is such a helpful thing.

I get such nice perspective.

She doesn’t self-disclose much, but she does relate to me and I know that in the therapeutic alliance we have together that her experience helps me with mine.

Then.

I got to talk about the fun stuff, the happy stuff, the amazing I got a private practice internship!

It was such a joy to talk with her about that.

Especially since working with her helped me see that it was possible.

When my supervisor recommended it to me I was rather at a loss as to how to go about it.

My therapist opened that door, shared insights, and gave me places to look.

She did not tell me to approach the person I did, but she helped lay the foundation for that experience to unfold and I am so wildly grateful for that.

And that when things are supposed to happen, they just fall beautifully into place.

She reflected to me the amount of work I do and also what I could expect to charge as an intern would be higher than others just starting out as private practice interns.

She told me without a doubt I can charge $80-$100 per session.

Of course.

I won’t get that full amount.

But I tell you what I will get half of it at the minimum.

And that means $40-$50/hr.

So much more than the $0 I make now.

I have pretty much decided, you have heard it here first, that I will give up my internship where I am at as soon as I get my AMFT # from the BBS.

Once I have that number I can be paid as a private practice intern using my supervisor’s number, the woman I just basically got hired by.

We’ll have to set up W-2’s and there will be taxes taken out and other things I am sure.

I will have to pay for her supervision and I will have to pay a portion of the lease for the office.

She will take that out of the amount I am paid by my clients, and then she will pay me.

I will be making money and I will build a practice an I will have abundance.

That was the biggest take away from my therapist today, that I have striven so hard, all my life, worked and worked and worked and studied, and now, I am almost there.

That I am close.

In fact.

That I am closer than I even think I am.

I will be done with my current internship by September 1st.

That’s the plan.

I figure I will have my intern number by that point, it does take a little while for BBS to get all the paperwork and assign a number.

I am hopeful that I will be able to start seeing clients at my private practice internship after Labor Day.

Which feels about right and will be just after I have done the intensive for my PhD program.

I am so ready to step forward, ready to transition out of where I am, ready to start seeing the fruits of my labor.

I am excited about it.

I really am.

And I am ready to embrace all the abundance.

I.

Am.

So.

So.

Ready.

Blossom Song

The way you look at me.

The way your eyes follow my face.

Leaving me melting on the floor.

A pool of desire, lapping warm at my ankles.

My face sweltering with love, a heat shined

Brighter than the moon in darkest skies.

You.

Are.

Exquisite.

Like plum trees

Blooming out of season.

The petals fresh surprised in autumnal air.

Magic that kisses me senseless.

I am without shame.

My need for you subsumes all doubt

With wild veracity.

And now, as I look out across the expanse of space ahead of me.

I sense you there.

On the horizon.

So near.

Like a taste that just alludes memory.

I sense your sweetness in the cinnamon tea I drink.

Reflected in the freckles on my face,

Planted there like promises of kisses on my cheeks.

Ghost leftovers of love smattering my skin.

There is music.

There too, your hands.

Navigating their way through my hair.

Oh.

Slippery time.

I wait for you to pass.

In colors midnight blue

And longing.

Wearing Elvis Presley shoes.

And.

Swagger.

March along.

Move along.

Take that road home to you.

My baby.

I’m waiting.

Just waiting.

Over there.

Beneath that canopy of

Soft purple pink

Blooming sweet fruit promises.

Ensorcelled.

I am so ready for you.

Sweep me up.

Again.

Baby.

Please, baby, please.

In the crooning cradle.

Of.

Your.

Temptuous.

Love.

Song.

 

All The Mother Fucking Things

I got it done.

I almost cannot believe it.

I finished the reading for my Gestalt class so I can write the paper tomorrow.

Brief aside, so early into the blog, but.

I know I’m on the right track when the last sentence of the book, involving an imaginary conversation that Fritz Perls is heaving with Freud (a dead Freud, seven years gone at that point) stirs me to tears.

I was moved.

And I am excited that I have found what I believe to be the therapy modality that I want to work with and also.

Heh.

All things Burning Man.

Gestalt and Burning Man.

Yup.

I have a desire to write my dissertation on a theory I have around Gestalt and the evolution of Burning Man, the here and nowness of things.  I am rather nascent in my explorations, but I do know that I am heading in the direction of what I want to do and I am so very happy to think about combining two different things into a project that could lead me to dissertation.

Anyway.

I get a head of myself.

Which is so not Gestalt, and so not Burning Man.

But is so easy for me to do.

In the moment, I am sitting in my pajamas, yes, before 8p.m. on a “school night” for me as I will be getting up early, early, early to drive to Sonoma for work in the morning.

I made the decision to stay here overnight and go up early so that I could wrap up any lose ends and take care of things for my imminent trip to the playa.

I cleaned the house, re-packed my clothes bin for the burn, I had a suspicion that I was not really well packed, that I may have over packed a little in fear and went through all my gear to make sure I really was going to use it or wear it.

I’ll only be out for four days and four nights.

Which means 8 outfits.

I paired down a little what I had and organized it better.

I was tempted to go back through all my bins, but when I did a mental inventory I knew that I was fine and really well set up for the event.

My camera has freshly charged batteries, I have my back up phone battery charger, I have all my tent, bedding, sleep, cook, cooler, and hair supplies.

Hello.

You know this girl is going to get her big, pink, flowered hair on.

Please.

Then I took care of business.

I paid rent early.

I don’t like to have that hanging over my head before going out there, and it feels good to be accountable.

I won’t have to worry about paying any bills when I get back, I can just ease back into my life with little thought–paid my DMV renewal on my scooter, early, but hey, the bill came in the mail, I don’t want my dusty brain to forget it when I get back, and organized my ticket, vehicle pass, and yes, I printed off my Early Arrival pass.

I have them all right here, right at my elbow, just waiting for my return on Friday night.

I’ll be leaving work by 6p.m. at the latest and returning the rental car to SFO, grabbing a car from the rental drop off to home, then my ride share will come and get me, it’s looking like 8:30 p.m. for the pick up.

We load up and drive out.

I confirmed with him via e-mail, updated him in regards to groceries and water–suggested that we not get water in SF, but rather pick it up at the SafeWay in Reno which is open 24 hours.  Less weight in the car, less gas to get us up over the Sierra’s.

He totally agreed.

I also went shopping for a few things to have at the house for when I get back.

And I’ve packed my suitcase, so recently unpacked, again for this week’s work in Glen Ellen.

All that I have left to do is dry the load of laundry in the dryer and write this blog.

Heck.

I even addressed all my Burning Man postcards and stamped them up.

I met with two ladies today and did the deal, too.

Which was super good and really grounding, they are such gifts, I am so lucky to get to work with them and share my experience, strength and hope.

My other lady did a phone check in and by the time all that was done I felt really ready for the next phase of my development.

An extraordinary thing that.

One which lead to me realizing that I had no real need to go out all willy nilly and secure further stuff and things for that thing in the desert.

That, I, in fact, had everything I needed and a little more (one white crinoline and one black crinoline), that there was no reason to stir my anxiety pot by driving around town in the VW Bug rental car.

Especially when I got the perfect parking spot in front of the house last night.

Why move it and cause myself stress to buy things I don’t really need, but think I might want.

Nah.

I got it.

I really am ready.

The few things I have left to get are just a couple of food stuffs that I want to wait until Reno to procure–some apples, one more container of unsweetened vanilla almond milk, and some carrots.

As for the rest of it.

It’s done.

I am so glad I didn’t leave the neighborhood, I am so glad I took time to re-pack and re-organize and also to realize that I really am done.

It’s done.

I’m ready.

The rest of the week is to show up kind and compassionate with sweetness, tolerance, and love to work.

To write a six page Gestalt paper and to do some reading for another of my classes.

Thank you Sunday.

For being, well, easy like Sunday morning.

Giggle.

It’s been fruitful, restful, and far less stressful than I thought it would be.

Hella grateful.

Seriously.

Almost Home

But not quite.

Sitting on the floor charging the laptop, downloading an episode of OITNB and waiting for the next plane to land at LAX.

I’m so close I can taste San Francisco.

But not close enough.

I understand now why the fares were cheaper by hundreds of dollars and I get it, I accept the consequences of saving a few bucks, and really, considering the fabulous loot, for me, I’m bringing back from New Orleans, I’m ok with the delay.

That being said.

I won’t be doing it again.

Next time I travel, direct flight please.

No more trying to figure out what terminal and no worry about making connecting flights or waiting at a gate for the next flight.

I feel like I have lifted and loaded my carry on many more times than I typically do and I am a little weary of it.

I have 52 minutes until the next boarding.

I’m almost there.

I have patience.

And I am grateful for the experience, the people watching in airports is extraordinary.

First.

I hate to say it.

But, folks are heavy.

I mean, having been a heavier person all my life, although not so much now, I was stunned by the heft of folks.

Also.

I love me some fashion.

But money does not necessarily supply style.

Next.

Please, attend your children, especially when they are under two years old, my God, I have seen some wandering children.

Perhaps I am just hyper sensitive being a nanny, I always seem to have my nanny goggles on, but seriously folks, corral those kids.

And nobody seems to care about anybody else.

I have seen some utterly strange and rude things, cutting lines, loud voices, demands for things and privileges that shocked me.

All in all, however, I am grateful, again, and again, that I get the opportunity to travel.

I want to live in a big house one day.

And have a large map and pin cushion the fuck out of it, I want to trace all the flights from city to city in red and blue thread and I want to put little pushpins in all the cities I have gotten to visit.

I have not traveled as much as some, I am not a touring musician, I don’t have bags of money, but I get about pretty well, and much more than I ever believed I would.

It is an extraordinary gift.

I remember dreaming about it and thinking it would never happen.

And really, I have traveled a great deal just in the last year–Paris, New York, New Orleans, LA–in fact I was reflecting on the last time I was at LAX.

It was last August, before my school retreat, my friend who flew me down, first class from SFO to LAX for a weekend of museums and walk about.

I don’t see that friend anymore.

Strange how fast things change, even when you can’t imagine that they will, they do.

I am also extraordinarily grateful to him as well, despite not talking to him or engaging with him, no facecrack, no texts, no doing the deal in the same church basement.

There is a softness there in the memory, in the heart, in the touch of nostalgia for the intense experience of the relationship and also a  vast amount of perspective in the reviewing of how the relationship coalesced and then collapsed.

I cannot change what happened and I wouldn’t if I could.

I got what God wanted me to have and I don’t look gifts in the mouth.

The experience the heart opening and the love I learned I am capable of.

So much.

Or thinking about being a solo traveler.

I travel well on my own, I have my system down, I get it done.

But yes, sometimes I do wonder, what would it be like.

“You can have anything you want,” a lover told me.

Why, just now, that made me tear up, I am not sure, so tired of trying to figure it all out.

“Oh honey, you are so smart and so strong, and you need a match, there aren’t going to be a lot of men that can match you, you’re bigger than life,” my new friend in New Orleans said as we wound our way through the French Quarter on the way to Magazine Street.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I hear that all the time.

But the thing is, I’m not so sure I believe that.

Anyway.

I’m tired, I’m sure that’s the gist of this and where I am going with this blog, oh tender hormonal heart, I don’t know.

Yeah.

Got the period a week early.

A week!

Fuck.

I had sex on the mind, happy 4th let me celebrate with the day off to sleep in and get down.

Nope.

Grr.

Oh well, so it goes, everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen.

And perhaps the travel anxiety brought it on, happens sometimes, a little anxiety, making the connecting flights, getting through security, etc, happens, I tend to ignore it mentally, but I suspect my body has its own way of working, with or without my brains permission or acknowledgement.

Or perhaps it was the heat and humidity in New Orleans.

Who knows.

I just looked up around the terminal and thought to myself, “my people!”

I recognize San Francisco people.

Not necessarily anyone I know, but the look, well, there’s a look, and I see it.

I may have been temporarily seduced by the warm sultry nights in New Orleans and the lush flora and fauna, the lilting Southern twang and the gentility, but San Francisco still has my heart.

I’m going to get in close to midnight and I don’t think I’ll be BARTing or taking MUNI.

One more car ride and then home.

Home to my sweet little studio by the sea.

It is not filled with magnolia scent and orange spray water in a mister or paddle fans or twelve foot ceilings.

There are not clawfoot tubs and verandas.

But there is my bed, heavenly and warm, and heaped with pillows and my duvet, a duvet I shall burrow into, I’m sure I’m going to have a moment of shock at the cold and the fog, but that will pass

And besides.

I brought my sweatshirt.

I’m not inexperienced with the prodigal daughter return home with out enough layers.

I’m ready.

Yes.

I am.

Boarding in 32 minutes.

See you soon San Francisco.

I have missed you.

Even the fog.

Shh.

Don’t tell.

xoxoxo