It’s Been A Day

It really has.

It was preceded by a night with little sleep.

I had a really hard time falling asleep and I couldn’t stay asleep when I finally did.

I rarely have insomnia, but last night there was a kiss of it.

So much to think about.

And my wild thoughts got me up so early.

Really too early.

But.

I have to say I am surprised that I didn’t feel tired today.

I also had a bit more to do than I thought I was going to.

In between my therapy session and dropping off paperwork to a former supervisor in Hayes Valley, I got a text from my boss asking for a huge favor and could I go help out at the house for a few hours.

I said sure, I went, I let in the cleaners, I hung out and listened to French House music, I did some spending plan for July and I added up my expenses for June.

I got a bit walloped yesterday.

Truth be told.

Unexpected conflict.

Lots of fear.

High amounts of anxiety.

And lots of having faith and leaning in.

I spent most of yesterday outside the house, I didn’t feel safe here and I didn’t want to have more conflict escalate.

Fortunately nothing further happened.

You want details you contact me directly I am being circumspect about what goes on my blog for a little while.

When the dust settles I may elaborate more, but tonight as I write, suffice to say it’s been unpleasant and I have been taking actions around my housing situation to the best of my abilities.

I also have to say thank God for my external support and for the people who I could call and talk to and get suggestions from.

So much lovely help.

I needed every bit.

And so, it was of no surprise, not really, when I got home after a long stressful day yesterday and found a bill from my health insurance for $867.23.

Fuck.

Really?

I knew it.

I had a feeling I was going to get a sucker punch from the endoscopy.

I looked over the bill and though yes, I was a touch upset, in the end my insurance did cover $3200 of the procedure.

Grateful for that.

I sat down and wrote out a check.

Then I balanced my checkbook.

Then.

Well.

I have therapy and need groceries.

I am sitting with money in my account, but it’s earmarked toward rent, my rent check has not been cashed yet.

I double checked my addition and subtraction and I thought about a few things I wanted to do today.

Car wash.

And decided to pull money from my savings account.

Did I have to?

No.

I would have been ok until payday.

I mean.

I would have bought nada.

But I would have been ok.

Then I thought, why feel pinched when I have money there that can be used?

I transferred the money that I had earmarked for Paris into my account and decided to make sure I looked over my budget and spending for the month.

It’s a big month for travel.

I have no regrets about what I spent in New York.

I am very happy for the trip, the memories, the mementos.

Absolutely no thoughts that I should have done it any different.

It was a wonderful trip.

Paris will be too.

I may not have the $867 that had to go to the hospital bill, but I have enough.

I’m o.k.

That became sort of the theme today.

I am o.k.

I am going to be o.k.

Everything is o.k.

Yes.

Things are hard.

Things are challenging.

Life is showing up and doing what life does, giving me opportunities to learn and grow and expand my capacity for love.

Yes.

There were tears today too.

Therapy.

I talked for the first half about my living situation and what happened yesterday.

My therapist really applauded how I handled the situation.

I was not expecting that, to be told that what I did under pressure was admirable.

That felt good to have reflected back to me.

I still had few moments of feeling overwhelmed when I talked about what had happened, but hey I didn’t die and though it was intense and unpleasant, I got through it.

I had lunch with a friend today after therapy and he reflected some of the same things back to me.

It was super fun to see him.

He works in a cool tech company and they have lunch delivered and so yay, free lunch and an hour with a good friend.

He also helped me figure out my bottom line around my situation and gave me some brilliant language should I need, when I suspect, it’s not going to be a should, it will be a when, to stand up to the situation and what is happening.

It was calming and I appreciated hearing it and that he also acknowledged I do have a lot of power in the situation.

Ultimately.

Faith.

Faith.

And more faith.

It shall prevail.

The rest of the day was nice, like I mentioned, helping out the family, getting to do the work on my spending plan, taking time to eat a nice dinner, just a salad and sparkling water, but it felt good to nourish myself on the earlier side of dinner as I had a client cancel and I wanted to do the deal tonight at 8p.m.  I was able to leave after my first client and get across town right on time.

Where again I got to be aware of fear and faith and that they are similar, belief in something that cannot be proven.

So I chose faith.

I will continue to choose faith.

Knowing that I am loved and carried and I just have to show up and take the next actions in front of me.

It will all work out.

It really will.

One More Thing

Gotten.

I picked up my third practicum review from the supervisor at my site.

All fives, the best one could score, and two “fours.”

To tell you the truth I wasn’t expecting anything less.

My supervisor has pretty much given me the same score from the beginning.

I’ve not had any interactions with him, he’s not discussed my progress, and this time I had even fewer notes about my abilities than before.

It’s not a problem.

And it is.

I’m not getting the kind of training I feel that I need to really become the kind of therapist I want to be.

I am a good therapist.

I can say that without qualms and I will become better with the more clients I see and the more experience I get.

But.

I’m not being trained at this site, there’s really no theory being used except take what you like and leave the rest, which is good, up until a point.

I was talking with my therapist about this today and what it was like to work with my other supervisor who was amazing and taught me so much that I am still in awe of the experience and I realize, already missing him.

He was hard to show up for because I had expectations about myself and wanted to show him that I was capable and smart and good.

He got all that and he reflected back honestly where I needed work, where I needed boundaries, where I was doing well, where I could grow and how I could do that.

My current supervisor does not do that and I had the feeling today when I picked up my evaluation that I won’t be there all that much longer.

Oh.

For a little while yet.

Or maybe with fewer clients.

I just sense that I need to be getting more and I’m going with that gut feeling and I’m going to start actively looking for a private practice internship.

There are somethings I need to do, get on the list serve at CIIS and look for supervisors taking on interns.

Reach out to people I am interested in working with.

The professor I reached out to last night got back to me and let me know that she was not taking any interns at the moment, but were she I would be at the top of her list.

She also said that she would forward my name on as an intern to any supervisors she thought would be a good fit.

She encouraged me to look into private practice internship and gave me the impression that I was indeed on the right track doing so.

My therapist said the same thing, she felt that it wold best serve me and gave me some resources.

I am excited.

I am in a place of transition and I am completely ok with the clients I have now and the schedule I have, but I realize I could be better served, learn more and have better guidance elsewhere.

I am so grateful for my practicum site for all the flexibility it has and for the wide range of clients I have gotten to see, the diversity of cases has been awesome.

I also appreciate that I don’t have to do a lot of paper work, that’s been pretty big, I just am recognizing that there is more and that I feel confident at this point exploring my options when I am well situated where I am.

I don’t have to leave, I can explore and take my time and find a good fit.

I just need to look about and ask questions and see who may be available.

I have two other former professors I would love to work with and I think  I will reach out to both of them.

There.

Just reached out to one.

Excuse me while I draft another quick e-mail to the other.

And done.

That felt good.

Very proactive.

And that’s what I have to do.

Take little actions and see what happens.

What my therapist remarked on today is that I don’t sound anxious.

And I’m not!

I’m excited.

I feel like I am moving forward in a positive way and although I don’t know the exact direction I’m going or what door to go through next, I feel like things are unfolding.

And really.

All I have to focus on is what I need to do next to get all my paperwork into school.

This Saturday I will have my group supervisor sign my paperwork.

I will be taking all those signatures and the evaluation to school with me the next weekend of classes.

I will hand them over and find out what I have to do next.

I will need to get my therapist to sign off on my year of therapy, which we discussed today as well, and she’s all set to go.

In fact, now that I think of it, I might as well bring that paperwork into our next session.

Then I can have the last evaluation, the signed forms from each supervisor, and my therapy sessions covered and done.

I’m sure there’s some little bit of paperwork that will still need to get sussed out, but I feel very confident that it will.

Very confident.

 

Really?

Already?

FUCK.

I just read over the syllabus for one of my classes.

Vomit.

Vomit.

Vomit.

I am not ready.

No.

No.

No.

Sigh.

I got an e-mail from a friend of mine in the cohort, we take almost all of our classes together and I switched out a class to be in the this last class with her, tipping me off to a website builder that I could use for class.

I was like.

What?

Wait?

Is the syllabus already up?

And fuck me, yes, it is already up.

I read it over, I got a little tired reading it.

I think I just want to go back to reading my pleasure reading book and not look at a syllabus again for a day or five.

My next weekend of classes is January 19-21st.

It’s still a few weeks away, but it’s looming.

Fortunately the class that has the syllabus up has no readers or textbooks I will need to buy.

Unfortunately and I’m super annoyed by this, I do have to use readings, readers, and textbooks from my previous classes.

The class is Integrative Seminar, and it basically requires that I write a 22-29 page paper with a personal narrative of when and where I had revelations in my classwork and what those looked like and how I will bring those insights into my therapy sessions with future/current clients.  Plus a part of the paper has to be a clinical review of one of my current clients.

Ugh.

That’s a fucking pain in my ass.

Not that I can’t write that many pages, I won’t have a problem doing that so much, but um, I didn’t save my notebooks from my previous classes, I recycled most of them, I also don’t have the majority of my textbooks, I sold them back.

ARGH.

I do have one ace up my sleeve, I just now literally realized.

I have a program on my computer called Perrla.

It basically is a graduate student’s wet dream.

It helps format papers in APA (The American Psychological Association) and it builds your bibliography for you as you’re writing the papers.

I should have all my papers from all my classes, except for maybe the first couple I wrote, that are saved in my Perrla program.

I can reference those papers to write the bigger paper for this class.

That will be my saving grace.

So grateful I just remembered that.

Really no need for me to get all anxious about shit anyway, I’m a writer, I will write.

I have had some pretty transformative moments in school and I have grown so much in my personal life that I am sure I will be able to knock out a 30 page paper with ten references pretty damn quick.

Plus, thank God!

Thank fucking God, I keep really good notes from my supervision sessions with my solo supervisor.

And I am fairly certain I have all my notes from supervision and now that I know I’ll be presenting a case I can take more prodigious notes while in session with him.

I don’t know what I’m bitching about.

All things considered I will be writing more than 30 pages for a PhD dissertation.

God only knows how much writing that will entail.

I talked my therapist a lot about that today, amongst other things, like coming up on my 13th sobriety anniversary and what I will be doing to acknowledge that, and how I sent out an inquiry to the dean of the school I’m thinking about applying to.

My therapist is way behind me going for it.

It’s nice to have that support.

And she made a really good observation that by the time I will finish up my PhD I will also be close to accruing all my hours for licensure.

That sure would be swell.

My PhD and my license.

I’m so down for that.

I got a response to my inquiry late afternoon today while I was at work.

I probably had gotten it far earlier, but work was a busy one and I didn’t check my phone until nearly end of day.

And there it was, a message from the dean in response to my ask.

She told me two very valuable bits of information–the program only accepts students in the fall and the deadline for the upcoming fall semester is the end of February.

My timing couldn’t be better.

She asked that we make time to chat soon either in person or over the phone.

I asked for a phone interview to discuss the program after I get out of supervision next Monday morning.

I am going for it.

I can’t believe I writing that and at the same time it feels exactly like what I am supposed to be doing.

I am genuinely excited.

Sure.

It will be more work, but I’m used to it at this point, I’ve been doing the work now for over two and a half years, I know what needs to be done and the time it goes by so quick.

“How’s school?”  A friend asked me New Year’s Eve.

“I graduate in May!” I told her, I might have squealed, jumping up in down a tiny bit.

“Oh my god, didn’t you just start?”

Yeah.

That’s what it feels like, like I just started, and I also feel like I’ve been doing it for a really long time, the school bit has very much informed my last two and a half years, it has colored literally everything I have done.

And not done.

Oh the social stuff I have missed out on.

Then again.

I cannot fathom the growth that I would not have had if I not been in school.

The growth I have had is astounding.

Nothing says personal growth quite like going to school to be a counseling therapist.

Shit.

Let me process some stuff ok?

On top of getting back into therapy.

Thank God for therapy.

It’s been so good for me.

So I’m not mad at what I “missed” I have gained so very much.

And I’m just going to keep growing.

What a magnificent thing.

To be on a path where I am always learning and growing.

That is a gift.

Seriously.

The Last Piece

Falls into place.

And like that.

I have secured all the things that I need to have to start my internship in May.

Yes.

Today I had a phone interview with a potential therapist.  We have been in contact for a little over a week via e-mail, she was referred to me by a woman in my cohort at school and I had contacted her about getting into therapy with her.

As part of my program I must have 50 consecutive weeks of therapy while I am in supervision and taking on clients as a new therapist.

It makes complete and total sense, although I’m not real thrilled about the additional cost of school, now I get to pay for a therapist out-of-pocket, but I am happy to have the final piece settled out.

Her first response was a no, she couldn’t work with my time frame, but a few more back and forth emails and a spot became available.

We had made a time to talk today on the phone and I wasn’t going to get myself too psyched up about it, I figured I might have to interview a few therapist.

But.

She was lovely.

And.

She happened to have gone through the same program that I did five years ago and so can really support me as I move forward through the same process.

I am also, oddly I want to add, but in a moment of reality check, maybe not so oddly, excited about getting to be back in therapy, I have known for a while now, ever since getting back into school, that I need to go back and do some more work.

There are issues to address, traumas to heal, wounds that need opening to air out and to re-heal properly.

And I am ready to do that work.

Especially since it is work that will support me becoming a better therapist for my clients.

I start on Tuesday.

I will meet with her Tuesday mornings at 9:30 a.m. for an hour and then head in to work at 11 a.m.

Super grateful that she is convenient to work as well, I work up in Glen Park and she is in Noe Valley, maybe a five-minute, ten minute tops, scooter ride from her office to my job.

Now if I can just relocate to the Eastern side of the city I will be set.

I love my little studio by the sea, don’t get me wrong.

But.

Check it out.

I work in Glen Park just on the border of Noe Valley.

I have an internship starting in May at 18th and Treat–I’ll be there five days a week.

I have a supervisor I have to see once a week at Fell and Gough.

School is at Mission and 10th.

My new therapist is in Noe Valley at 24th and Church.

And where do I live?

44th Ave and Judah.

Get me back to the Mission please.

Not that I want to move, necessarily, I am cozy here and moving sucks, but fuck, look at the logistics of it, it would make such better sense for me to be closer to work and school endeavors.

I’m keeping it on the back burner.

I’m not actively engaged in looking, but if the right thing happens, I’ll bounce.

I am grateful that all the school and work stuff is located relatively close together, that will make it a bit easier for me.

And there is time to get used to all of it.

I have time.

Things definitely feel like they are gaining momentum though.

I still need some signatures on my paperwork, but all that will happen at school.

In fact.

I am just going to take a moment here and hop over to my Gmail account and e-mail my advisor in regards to making sure I can get that paperwork dealt with.

There.

That feels better.

I am super happy to have it all come together.

I am still going to need to do plenty for the rest of the semester.

I have two weekends of classes yet to go before the semester ends, one in April and one in May.

I have to write one paper for the April weekend and I have three papers due for the May weekend.

Plus, of course, the mountains of reading.

I have been taking my Couples Therapy with me to work all this week and knocking out what I can when I can.

I am so in love with my job and the fact that I have had a solid hour for my lunch, with no interruptions, to sit, eat, have some tea, and then read for a half hour every day (well, except Monday, I had both the older kids at the house) this week.

It is such a huge gift and as I was expressing to my person tonight as we had dinner at Firewood Cafe in the Castro, how lucky I am to be in this job.

Shit.

I sat and listened to jazz and looked out over the bowl of San Francisco as it spilled toward the bay and ate organic fruit from BiRite and sipped my favorite tea at work.

I also have to juggle crazy monkeys on the MUNI, so it is good that I have that down time to regroup and get quiet.

It has been a big year for me already, and it’s just March.

The new job, the new experiences with school, the interviews for internships and supervisors and therapists, all the showing up, all the walking through, it’s been big.

I am super grateful that I have the support and love I do.

And that I have done a lot of my own personal work to move forward.

Some of which I have written about here.

And.

Quite a bit that I have not.

I find that the closer I come to having real world clients, the more and more I have to focus on my self, who I am, and not about who I am engaged with or hanging out with.

Sure.

I’d love to blog some about dating and wild adventures.

But that’s not been on the menu at the moment.

School, life priorities, work, re-connecting with friends.

The rest will follow and the time will go by quick and I will find myself looking back on the other side with complete wonderment.

As that’s how I’m currently looking at it all right now.

In complete awe.

Look at how far I’ve come.

A long, fucking way, baby.

Such.

A.

Long.

Way.

My Face Hurts

From smiling so much.

I got the job!

I can’t believe that I am this freaking excited to get a job that is not a paying gig.

I mean.

Seriously.

I’m over the fucking moon.

It’s not official, yet, but I got it.

My interviewer made it clear that I got it, he’s going to push through all the paperwork and have the offer for me by end of day on Monday.

I asked that it happen before the applications to CIIS for their practicum sites was due.

February 10th.

If I apply to the sites that the school runs and get into one of them it doesn’t matter if I got into another site, I have to go with theirs, their rules, their program, their hours.

Which are not a great match for me and my needs.

My needs, which include, keeping my full-time nanny job so that I can stay in San Francisco and go to school.

The interview went so well, it sort of astounds me.

We talked a lot, we had so much to say, I was a little nervous, but it all fell away and the words, I have no idea where they came from, they just fell out and I could see how excited my interviewer was and he pretty much said, this is it, you are perfect for us and I want you on board.

He and I went over the process, and the details and then we just talked and I felt inspired and I told him about wanting to proceed forward with a PhD through the East/West Psychology program and it turns out, he did the same thing!

He was so warm and inviting and I like the space and I like what the institution is doing and it’s a nonprofit, which it has to be for me to do my practicum hours.

And.

Oh yes.

I can intern there too after I graduate, in fact he spoke to me about longevity and staying with them while I did do work on my PhD and that if I so chose I might be able to segue straight through with them the entire way of my degree, PhD, that is, I’ll finish my Master’s while I’m there.

I’m going to have my own office!

I’m going to get keys and the key code.

And.

I’ll be seeing clients and accruing hours by this summer.

I can start this summer!

I don’t have to wait until fall.

Which is really huge.

It will give me more time to collect hours before I graduate.

The program requires that I do 235 hours to graduate.

But.

I can garner up to 1300 of the 3,000 hours while I’m in the program.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do all that and do my recovery and do my full-time nanny job, but every hour I can get is going to help.

Being able to start in the summer is a huge game changer for me.

And.

Heh.

I talked to him about doing my Community Mental Health project on the Institute.

He said absolutely, and so, two birds one stone.

Although that paper is less a concern for me than getting the placement, it’s like a nice little cherry on the top of my practicum Sunday.

I will be able to do my trainings and supervision while I work and I will be able to get what I need to graduate and also establish a client base and a practice for myself.

He talked to me about staying in the non-profit track for a while, that it was on the table, that if I worked in a non-profit for ten years I would get student loan forgiveness.

Ten years may seem like a long time.

But it’s not.

Especially if it cancels out my student loans.

Most especially if I go for my PhD.

Which I am.

That’s a lot of money forgiven.

Anyway.

I get ahead of myself.

I am just super happy and excited and relieved that I don’t have to go anywhere else, don’t have to do another open house, don’t have to do another interview, don’t have to fill out any more applications, or write another cover letter.

Or buy more interview clothes.

Heh.

Although.

I have to say.

I love, love, love my new “interview shoes.”

I will be wearing them a lot.

Maybe, um, ha, absolutely, to my new job.

I’m going to have my own office!

I know I already said that, but, my own office.

God damn that sounds so nice.

And.

While I’m on the topic of my new office, I should mention, it will be in the Mission.

Yes.

Very happy about that too.

Now if I could just find a place to live in the Mission.

I’m serious.

The commute to and from work and school is enough that I would love to cut it down.

I’m going to be working 15-20 hours at the practicum site.

I’ll be working 35-40 hours at my nanny gig.

If I can find a place that is more central I’m going to jump on it.

So here’s it out to the Universe.

I’d really like to be back in the Mission.

Or Bernal/Noe/Castro.

Heck.

SOMA could work too.

My nanny job is Glen Park.

School is Mission and 10th.

My practicum will be at 18th and Treat.

Somewhere in the middle of that.

A new home?

Yes, yes please.

Gently lifting that one up and I have no expectations and I love my home, I do, it’s so sweet and so cozy and pretty and I love the neighborhood and all the folks I have gotten to know in the last three years, but man, I could stand a shorter commute.

I’m a Mission girl at heart and though things have changed, and they probably will keep changing, I’ll probably always be a Mission girl.

It was the first place I lived in the city.

It is where I got into recovery.

It is where my heart is.

Yeah.

Goals.

And so much happiness right now.

Just pure.

Unadulterated joy.

Funny that.

How service to community opens one up.

Happy, really happy to get to do my part.

And thank you to all my friends and family who sent me love and light today as I took another big step down this path.

I love you very much.

So.

Very.

Much.

Yes.

I do.

 

 

Fear Of The Apple People

Part Deux (The original Fear of the Apple People was one of my first blogs on this site about five and a half years ago–maybe I should call this a “reprise” instead).

The fear is not as bad as it used to be, once upon a time, but the fear is still there.

God forbid I look stupid.

I can’t call a help desk.

What if they find out I am an idiot?

What are they going to do, Martines, take away your laptop?

REALLY?

Fear of not knowing what I am doing will stop me in my tracks all the time.

Every time.

But, what I have learned, and I have learned so much since I first became a proud owner of my first, slightly used, refurbished MacBook, is that I may be stopped momentarily with fear, it does not get the best of me.

“Men of faith have courage.”

Courage is walking through fear.

It is not the lack of fear, I’m always going to have fear.

Fear is a part of the human experience, it just is.

However, I have a disease of perception and of over blown fears.

My fears are irrational and unconstituted in fact.

They are baseless, groundless, little mindless animals, voles, shrews, grommets.

I know, a grommet is not an animal.

However, doesn’t that sound like what a little fear animal is–small brown tatty fur, sharp little teeth, scrappy claws, yellowish beady eyes, nocturnal–a grommet.

“Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to snap at you, too many grommets attacking my brain today.”

I have had my new laptop for about a week and I am thrilled.

Thrilled.

The battery last like forever and the receptivity from the key board really does make it feel like I am thinking the words and they are just popping up on the screen.

Lovely.

It’s light, easily a quarter of the weight my old laptop is, that old brick.

But, for what ever reason.

Well, I suspect the not so hot internet connection I have in my little studio by the sea has something to do with it.

The migration of my files on the old laptop to the new MacBook Air took over 24 hours and when it finally happened, something glitchy happened.

The MacBook Air and the old laptop both tell me the same thing–that the files have transferred, but I can’t seem to locate them.

I would like to locate them.

All my music files.

10,000 plus photographs.

Who knew I was so prolific?

Well, you might.

Considering I have been writing this blog on a fair daily basis for the last five years and each blog is on average 1,000 words.

Prolific is not an issue for me.

It has taken me a week, however, to acknowledge that I can’t figure it out.

“Figure it out is not a slogan,” he would say to me brusquely on the phone, and depending on where I was I would burst into tears.

But I want to figure it out!

Damn it man.

God forbid, I repeat, that you find out that I don’t know what I am doing.

I have no clue what I am doing, in case you had any thoughts to the contrary.

I’m following the fault line down the mountain, the path of least resistance, to my heart, to my knees, to my soul.

“If you’re falling down the hill, you’re in God’s will,” she told me at a cafe in Paris, it might have been the Lizard Lounge in the Marais when she first imparted this wisdom upon me.

She then told me about how a snow ball rolling down the mountain takes the path of least resistance, equating it to, if it’s simple it’s the choice, if it’s convoluted and means double back tracking and going around that tree and uprooting that other one, and moving the snow fences, then maybe it’s not meant to be.

I try to figure it out all the time.

Then I remember.

I can’t.

I don’t need to.

And.

Yes.

I can ask for help.

So, I finally got my butt on the Apple site and booked a phone call help session for tomorrow a half hour before my first lady bug of the day flits her way to my doorstep for tea and singleness of purpose.

I can’t imagine it will take more than a half hour to resolve the situation.

If not fifteen minutes.

Probably only five.

That’s the thing.

I often will be given the solution in a nice tidy compact package, but I have to fret for a while.

It’s not as bad as it used to be and I count that as progress.

And bravery.

I am a brave person.

I showed up for a blind date today and I have another tomorrow.

I’m not thrilled to be doing this.

“Geez you sound so excited,” she giggled at me last night when I described going on a date in Golden Gate Park for a picnic on the lawn somewhere.

Yeah.

Not excited.

Not because I didn’t have some rapport with the man, I obviously wouldn’t have accepted the date if there was nothing to talk about.

Which there was nothing to talk about with another guy that tried to contact me today.

Dude.

Did you even read the profile?

And please, I can’t promise I won’t break your heart, no one is responsible for breaking your heart, you break your own heart, so don’t even bother to ask me that.

There are no victims, only volunteers.

I did not volunteer myself to go on a date with said man.

Let some other woman break his heart, I’m too busy breaking my own.

“I’m so over internet dating I told my friend,” my date was running late and I was hungry and boohoo’ing in my coffee.

“Honey, have a snack, I’m sure there’s good reason and he’s making an effort and a MUNI is MUNI, and don’t delete your profile until after you have eaten,” she admonished me.

Yup.

So I’ll be off to try another tomorrow.

Coffee at Java Beach and a walk on said beach, Ocean Beach, with his dog.

I can be afraid of not being enough.

Pretty enough.

Young enough.

Smart enough.

Blah, blah, blah.

Or I can walk through these silly fears too and keep on going.

Every time I take a little leap forward the fear is dispelled a tiny bit and the faith grows larger and larger.

One day this will all be laughable and I won’t worry about calling the help desk and asking them to fax me over a ream of paper and I’ll be ok with looking silly and I’ll keep wearing flowers in my hair and glitter on my face, turning it toward the sun, the blue skies, and the birds flying over head in the park.

“Look, there,” I stopped him, the picnic in the park date, and the story he was telling, “red tail hawk.”

I watched it silently as it circled lazy on the wind and sun, the music of a guitar drifting from the bandshell by the DeYoung, a little boy on roller skates tumble bumbling by, the grass green under my bare feet, I breathed in and closed my eyes to the sun, soaking it up and relishing being exactly who I am in the exact place I am supposed to be.

I think that’s called acceptance.

Face it.

I live in San Francisco.

By the beach.

With a MacBook Air under my fingers, Cat Stevens on my stereo, and nice food in my fridge.

I have nothing to fear.

But yes.

Fear itself.

And even I know that there really is nothing behind that too.

Just another opportunity to grow.

Graceful.

Beautiful.

Loved.

Winning

I still can’t hardly believe any of this has happened.

But it has, and as I write I just look left to my tingly, in a good way–it means it’s healing–ankle, I know it has.

I still want to pinch myself  though.

I got the text today saying the funds had been deposited to my bank and thank you for letting me be of service and don’t rush out and do anything wild, you still got to heal kid.

I rushed out and paid rent.

Yeah, yeah, it’s not due for another eight days, but I did not want to go spending money on frivolous things, look at all the money in my account.

Money that I would basically have if I were working, and since I am not, I felt due diligence to take care of that which needs taking care of.

Rent.

Utilities.

Phone.

Healthy San Francisco.

Check, check, and check.

Then I looked at my check register and sighed.

Here.

Gone.

But I am so completely taken care of.

So utterly held and carried, I become overwhelmed at the drop of a hat and want to play it forward so bad that I can get carried away in my head about what I can and cannot do.

Here’s some crazy for you.

I actually walked out of the house and mailed my Grandma a card.

I made it to the mailbox today without having to ask someone to cross the road for me.

Look ma!

No crutches.

Then I sat my ass down for a minute on a bench.

Then I decided, I am going to go to Trouble and have a coffee.

I didn’t particularly need one, I had two cups this morning when I had breakfast and did my writing–which incidentally has morphed from three pages long hand to four (despite having “nothing” to write about I am writing like gangbusters)–but the idea of sitting at a cafe and enjoying the human life around me was too good to pass up.

I found a nice little perch on the parklet that is outside the cafe and prepared myself to go inside and get my Americano on.

I heard my name hollered, and here comes a friend!

My buddy two blocks down from my house who has been in a cast from foot surgery, then a walking boot, and now a half-boot/sandal, for four and a half months!

Months.

Mind you I don’t think I can make it four weeks and he’s been doing it for four and a half months.

My friend, you have bigger balls than I.

It was perfect timing.

He went inside Trouble and ordered up some coffee and we sat in the sun and shot the shit for an hour or so.

It was such a relief to be outside of my studio.

Outside of my head.

In good company, in my neighborhood, in my city, by my ocean.

I could see the ocean from the crest of the hill, a small hill mind you, one that I look ridiculous climbing in my wobbly boot, but one I made it up nonetheless.

Jesus.

That’s a scary thought.

Thank God this didn’t happen to me when I lived in Nob Hill at Taylor and Washington.

That would have been such a challenge.

After a bit of chat, this and that, meditation, sitting still, the insights that come from having a stretch of quiet time, forced upon oneself, and what comes from the practice of being quiet, we parted ways with hugs and gimped off in opposite directions.

I came home did some household stuff, made sure my check book was balanced–just because the online version says I have so much money is not the same as having that money–I double checked my maths with the rent and utilities check and then made some food for the week.

Homemade fried rice.

Left over rice from yesterday’s beans and rice, sautéed garlic and onion, broccoli, white corn, carrots, peas (not all of them, mind you, I still need to be icing down my ankle), chicken and shrimp that I cooked up with some ginger and sea salt, Bragg’s Amino’s, Spike Seasoning, and then to make it all come together, one organic scrambled egg.

I topped it with 1/2 a sliced avocado and sat outside with the warm sun on my face.

I can’t say that I want to be sitting still for much longer, but when I take the time to make it special, like taking my food from my kitchen to the back porch, and eating it with intention and attention, it becomes this magical thing.

I am finding a deep richness involved in my day-to-day life that I believe I was going way too fast to see or appreciate.

Making a meal takes some effort and I sort of blow it off, but being forced to slow down, I feel and see things differently, the small things that I accomplish now make me feel really good.

“You made your bed!” My friend said as he helped me bring in groceries from the car. “You must be feeling better.”

I am.

And I am having a lot of personal delight in my home.

It really is such a beautiful, sweet, warm place.

The perfect place to heal.

I am also thankful and in deep gratitude for all the help I have gotten, the money, the groceries, the toiletries.

You know you’re loved when someone buys you tampons.

Just sayin’.

I am also grateful for other’s perspectives, because mine is so skewed, I really don’t see myself very clearly or well.

And I often think I am trying to get over when I am not, I’m not really sick/hurt/tired/hungry/lonely….

I will push myself to be perfect and just fine and ok and I can handle this.

This whole experience has more than shown me that I am not capable of doing it all myself and I need to be reminded of that even now.

“Oh yeah, he’s right,” a friend said to me tonight when I mentioned the silly, well, what I think is silly, idea of calling ahead to the airport and asking for the wheelchair. “Totally use it, don’t push yourself, you’re still healing, you’re still within the time frame the doctor said, right, two-three weeks.”

I nodded.

“Uh, besides, how are you going to handle your suitcase?”

Oh fuck me.

Hadn’t thought about that.

Dragging a suitcase along while hobbling through the airport.

“Swallow your pride and accept the help.”

Yes ma’am.

Once again seeing that the only way to win, is to get out of my way, I am my worst advocate.

As soon as she said that it made complete sense.

And I don’t need to be a hero and I will still be healing.

Hello.

The doctor said six months for a full recovery.

Take it slow.

The hare may bound ahead.

But it is the tortoise that wins.

Slow and steady.

Winning.

Really slow and steady.

But winning, nonetheless.