Posts Tagged ‘text books’

Sleep

September 29, 2017

It does wonders.

I still could have slept another hour or fifteen, or so it felt, when I woke up, but I had gotten nearly 7 hours and that was miraculous after a long slog of a day with little sleep.

I am super grateful that tomorrow is Friday.

And that the mom had gotten mixed up with dates and I don’t have to come in early tomorrow.

I will next week.

But tomorrow.

Fuck.

I might even get eight hours of sleep.

It sounds so sexy it makes me shiver in delicious anticipation.

And just being the end of the week brings me some relief.

I’m almost there.

I still have a rather long day tomorrow, full day of work, client at my internship, but I don’t have a second client in the evening until next Friday, so I’ll be out by 7:30p.m. and able to make a friend’s birthday dinner at Fang on Howard Street.

I am also supposed to go dancing with the posse of ladies afterward at Public Works for Afrolicious.

I’m on the fence about that.

Originally I wasn’t going to be able to do dinner and felt an obligation to make a commitment to my friend and say yes to the dancing.

Now.

Well.

Fuck.

It’s been a long week.

I mean.

It really has.

And I’m still not in the clear.

I don’t have a day off until Sunday.

So.

Yeah.

I’m keeping the door wide open to just doing dinner and saying, love you, but I can’t make the dancing.

And.

I love dancing.

I haven’t really danced since Burning Man and god only knows when before that.

But, yes, I do like to dance.

And the music is sure to be good.

I mean.

Really good.

I’m not committing though, not yet, I just need to see how I feel and not try to be a hero and push too hard.

If I have the energy, I’ll go for it and bounce home by midnight so that I can still get up and go to yoga in the morning on Saturday before I go into my internship.

I do know this much.

I am getting a god damn mani/pedi/waxing on Saturday.

I hate looking sloppy and my nails look like ass.

It’s always an indication to me that I am busy when my manicure looks bad.

It’s a time suck, an enjoyable one, but it takes time and when I have a school weekend, like I did last weekend, I don’t have the time.

Oh.

I tried.

I had a little tiny window Saturday between my last class and my first client, but the salon was full and couldn’t get me in for even just a manicure.

Note to self.

Make an appointment so I can get a spot.

I can’t go another week without doing the nails.

It’s a part of my self-care and it’s something I very much like to do for myself.

It’s a couple of hours of sitting still, flipping through magazines, letting someone pamper me, relaxing, using the massage buttons on the chair.

Yeah.

Definitely making some time to do that.

Then my normal Saturday night get together with my fellows over in the NOPA.

I might go out to dinner that night too, but not certain.

I also have homework to attend to, I do need to do some reading.

I actually got in a couple of articles yesterday evening, despite the fact that I had such a long day, I did a 45 minute stretch and got my CBT reading done so that I can actually know what the fuck is being talked about in my webinar on Sunday and I knocked out an article in my Child and Elderly Abuse class.

Little bits and pieces as I go.

It will get done.

I didn’t have much down time at work this week to address homework, but I have brought a book with me every day, just in case.

I never know what the time will bring, just that it’s important to utilize it when it occurs.

I hope to let myself have a little down time too.

I do what I can.

When I can.

I believe in abundance, my time is expansive.

I also acknowledge that my schedule is fucking full and it’s a lot when I step back and look at it.

But boy.

The time goes by.

And.

It won’t always be like this.

It just won’t.

It’s part of what I have to do right now.

Get the degree, get the degree, get the degree.

Eye on the prize.

Eyes softly on the prize.

I don’t want it to be the sole focus of my life.

I have people in my life who are my life and I can’t just be a soul hiding in a room studying all the time.

Or working all the time.

I need connection.

I need love

I need sunshine.

I need star shine.

I need love.

Oh.

I already said that.

But.

For the sake of telling myself that I am allowed.

I need love.

I can’t just send it out, to my clients, my family, my friends, to my job, without getting some back.

And thank God.

I am getting it back.

I am so grateful for that love.

Beyond words.

I realize that I have strength.

But I cannot be strong in a vacuum.

So.

I will do my best this weekend to let myself balance all my commitments and comings and goings and be nice to myself and maybe, I’ll get some flowers, or something else sweet for myself, be romantic, woo my heart, be gentle.

Heh.

See.

I’m making an opportunity to go shopping.

I see myself here.

Oh.

But.

It’s allowed.

Let me allow myself some sweetness for all the hard work I put in.

It’s allowed.

I am lovable and worthy of love.

And.

Maybe.

Yes.

A new pair of shoes too.

Heh.

 

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Almost There

September 19, 2017

And it was a full day.

But almost there.

Almost done.

Full of work and writing and reading and clients and my supervisor.

Who never fails to astound me with his breadth of knowledge and insight.

I was flummoxed by a new client and he sketched it out in three sentences.

Blew my mind.

Of course he’s got years of being a therapist on me, but still, he’s so damn good and also it’s refreshing to be under the tutelage of someone who is so in tune with his work and knows really deeply how to talk about clients.

I bring a lot to him.

I am very observant and there are things that I know he’s surprised that I catch.

But man, he takes them and runs with them and sees the things that aren’t so obvious to me.

Of course.

They’re obvious as soon as they come out of his mouth and his explanations make so much sense.

Again and again I am so pleased to be allowed to work with him.

I got very lucky.

One of my friends in my cohort argues that my supervisor got lucky with me.

That was nice to hear, but I do feel that I’m the lucky one in the deal.

I do think he finds me interesting to work with though, and for that I am grateful and I’m an intelligent woman, I think that helps a lot, I get where he’s going with things and I am able more and more, to articulate what I am seeing in the sessions and relaying it well enough to him that I am getting a lot of help with my cases.

More so, by far, than I get in group supervision.

Sometimes I feel like my group supervision is just there to help me see how good I have it, not just with my supervisor, who is not affiliated with my group or my internship, but also with my school.

I have gotten a much better education, it feels, than many of the other interns that I see in my group.

I could be wrong, but it feels like I’m getting more from my school program than I am seeing with the other interns that I have worked with.

And though my group supervisor is a nice woman, she’s not as intuitive as my solo supervisor not as academically rigorous.

Not complaining, just observing.

So.

Yeah.

I saw my solo supervisor before work today.

The hour always flies by, then I usually pop over to Rainbow Grocery and pick up a few things, things that I can only get there, it’s sort of like my treat.

Go to supervision, get Rau Chocolate drink.

Ok!

Then I scootered to work.

Where it was quiet and I was able to take care of the household business and then take some time to do some homework and have a nice lunch.

I don’t normally sit at the dining room table, but there was no one home, and the view, oh, my God the view is crazy good.

A gigantic sweep from floor to ceiling of glass and the sprawl of the city, the Bay Bridge, downtown, it’s amazing.

And there are plum trees in the back yard.

With blossoms on them!

I was so startled to see that.

Not a lot, not heavy like in spring, but there were blossoms and the beauty of them caught me so off guard.

I was inspired and wrote some poetry.

I like to write a poem now and again.

Makes me happy.

Makes me happy too when the work resonates with the reader.

Very happy.

I write poetry because I can’t help myself.

I really can’t.

It’s a part of me.

And a part of me that takes precedent over homework.

I still did homework though.

I still read.

I took my reader with me on the train to pick up my charges from school.

I took my reader with me to my internship.

I read when there is down time.

The only issue I have at the moment that I’m a little put off by is that my reader for my class that I need to wrap up for the upcoming weekend got fucked up at the printer.

So all sorts of my reading is not available to me.

Except.

Online.

Thankfully the professor was alerted and posted the readings up, but I dislike reading online when I am studying, I like to outline and write notes and underline passages.

I also like having a reader or a book that I can throw in my bag and read when I have a spare minute.

It looks like I will have time the next few days at work to attend to my readings as my work load is slightly lighter with the mom away on business with the baby.

So.

I guess I’m bringing my laptop to work tomorrow so I can do some of the reading I wasn’t able to yet get to.

Luxury problems.

I flipped through a bit of it already when I got home from seeing my clients and having a bite of dinner.

I may even be able to finish up the reading tomorrow at work.

Thereby leaving the rest of the week for just work and clients.

And.

Yes.

School.

I’ll be in classes again Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

Friday: 9a.m. to 4 p.m.

Client at 6:30p.m.

Home by 8p.m.

Saturday: 9a.m. to 8 p.m.

And.

Sunday: 9a.m. to noon.

It’s nice having shorter class days, last two years I was in class until 8p.m. on Fridays and 4 p.m. on Sundays.

My internship, or practicum as it’s referred to while I am still in school, is considered a class.

Of course I spend a far greater amount of time and effort on my internship, it’s a different kind of learning too, and I’m actively doing therapy.

Whew.

It is a lot.

But I suspect.

I will have some nice times in there too.

I don’t suspect it.

I know it.

That’s the kind of life I live.

Work hard.

Play harder.

 

 

 

My Ass is Sore

September 18, 2017

No.

Not like that.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

My butt is sore from sitting at my table all day and working.

Writing.

And reading.

And more writing.

And taking tests.

Thank God I did get myself to yoga this morning.

Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten much physical activity in at all today.

Super glad for the yoga, although it did kick my ass a little bit too.

Much ass kicking, however, was done.

I keep thinking of that line from the movie Heat, “she’s got a great ass!”

I digress.

I feel pretty damn happy that I got as much work done as I did.

I did all my CBT reading and took the tests that I had to take for the class and sent them in.  The professor got back to me right away and I was happy I did as well as I did.

Not that the class is even graded, it’s a pass/fail class that is online.

And as far as I’m concerned, thank God it’s pass/fail.

Because it’s too much work.

I was bitching with one of my friends in the cohort earlier who asked me how I had done on the tests, at that point I hadn’t even taken them, because the amount of work for a one credit online class seems way too much.

I mean.

Way too much.

I have a three credit class that I haven’t really even cracked the books on yet.

I will.

I will.

But let me bask a moment more in the fact that I got done what I got done today.

Suffice to say that even though I complained about the amount of work for the class, I did it, I took the two tests that I needed to take, I read the reading that I needed to read.

Then.

Well.

I did some more reading.

I finished all my Jungian Dreamwork reading.

That was dense.

Jesus H. Christ on a raft.

It was dense stuff.

Good.

But it took quite a while to get through the chapters I needed to read.

Fortunate for me I read them on the back porch of my house.

So.

I got some glorious sunshine on my face.

Heck.

I even got a tan line.

Heh.

I took a small “break” in between reading and tests for my CBT class and the Jungian class work I did.

I met with a lady and we read from a different book and talked about some stuff, inventory and how to do it and what it looks like and it was a great hour working with her.

Then.

I ran to Safeway did a little grocery shopping for the week and then over to Other Avenues, the food co-op in my neighborhood that I’m a member of and got the stuff that I like to have on hand that I can’t get at Safeway.

A late lunch and back to the reading.

I also read a huge chunk for my Alcohol and Chemical Dependency class.

Some of the material I have to read with a big grain of salt.

I, um, have some experience with alcohol and chemical dependency.

Ahem.

Anyway.

It was “interesting” reading but I tried to do it without judgement.

When I finished with that.

S T R E T C H.

And inside to toss a chicken in the oven to roast and some brown rice on the stove to cook.

While that was working I read all the articles and readings I needed to do for my Psychopharmacology and Human Sexuality class.

Good readings.

I really like the professor, she who I happened to bump into yesterday at my internship (she has an office in the same building my internships is at), and the readings are really well curated and were quite well written.

I got a lot out of them.

My chicken was done roasting right about the same time I finished the readings for that class.

So.

Nice hot dinner and then back at it.

I wrote a reflection paper for Human Sexuality and Psychopharmacology and sent it in.

Then.

I opened up my dream journal.

Yes.

I have a dream journal.

Shut up.

I only have a dream journal because I am taking a dreamwork class.

I am not a hippy.

Ahem.

So.

I opened up my dream journal and wrote up one of the dreams I had at the beginning of the month.

I have to keep a journal for the class and every month the class meets I have to turn in a dream from my journal.

I had a magnificent dream.

It was at first overwhelming.

I was on the face of a gigantic tidal wave that was about to break over my head.

I was about to drown, I was overwhelmed, I was in a place I had been before and I knew what was about to happen.

Except.

Well.

It didn’t.

Just as I thought the wave was about to crumble and fall on top of me, I had a thought, “what if I swim through it?”

I have never had that thought before.

I have had a similar dream before, tidal waves, drowning, panic, sharks in the water.

Oh the nightmares I have had in my life.

Too many to tell them all hear and horrifying beyond words.

Suffice to say.

I had never had the experience of what unfolded in my dream next.

I started to swim into the wave, I spun around, and then I body surfed it all the way to the beach.

I flew.

I floated.

The water was warm and supple and held me.

I was not drown.

I stood up on my feet in the wake and white foam and laughed, I felt giddy and happy and full of joy.

I looked up and down the beach, white sand for miles, dunes with green grasses, calm, still, serene, the water of the ocean lapping gently on the shore.

It was astounding to me, this dream.

So I wrote about that.

And man.

Ouch.

My ass is sore again.

As I am sitting here, still writing, I’m about done, though, I have to tell you.

And.

I am done!

I just wrote the paper and printed it off, tucking it into my school folder for this weeks upcoming classes.

And yes.

I do have to do more reading for my Transpersonal Psychology class, but I will have the week days at work to do it since I won’t have any charges to juggle until school pick up.

So.

I have time.

And I did so much today.

I am really proud of myself.

So proud.

Even if my bum is a bit tender.

It was worth it.

Yes it was.

 

A Little Here

August 23, 2017

A little there.

I got some more reading done today for school, which I find funny as it was the opening salvo in my therapy session this morning.

I’m behind on my reading, and school hasn’t started yet, and for the first time in the history of my grad school career I don’t give any of the fucks.

I mean.

A little.

Sort of.

But mostly.

Fuck no.

I have spent so much time now seeing clients and getting into the mix and showing up to be a therapist that school stuff seems to have lost a lot of its luster.

Oh sure.

I know I have so much to learn, there is always going to be learning, I will and have years of it to go.

Getting done with my third year of my Masters program is sort of the tip on the iceberg, I will still have to intern for years before I have enough hours accrued to get licensed.

That being said.

School seems to hold less gravitas for me.

I am excited to see my cohort, I have had a lot of them reach out to me in the last few days and it feels good to be getting reconnected.

Third year!

I am a third year.

This is the big push.

One more year of this program and then.

Well.

Probably more school.

Although I’m not 100% sure.

I have, at least it seems very likely, unless I win the lottery which would allow me to not work, about two and a half years of work to do before I have all my hours.

Give or take.

I might as well go for my PhD.

I will still have to work full time or damn close.

Although.

I’ll be dropping down my hours when I get back from Burning Man.

38 hours a week from 41.

This doesn’t count my supervision, therapy, or client hours.

Just plain work hours will go down three hours a week.

Which doesn’t seem like much, but will be a great big help.

I can get a lot read in three hours.

I can.

I ended up getting in four chapters of reading this evening, as a matter of fact, at the internship when my first client cancelled.

If only they would’ve coordinated!

My clients that is, so that I didn’t have to sit for an hour in the office waiting for my end of day client, but hey, I read for school and that was great.

I finished the reading for another one of my classes.

I don’t know that I have much more time to get anything else read.

Especially since most of it is online material and I’m loathe to bring my laptop with me to work to read.

On the off-chance that I might have some down time.

It’s generally not worth the risk of me taking it.

I’ll still bring one of my textbooks with me, get a little further ahead in the reading as the case may be, if there’s time.

Like I said, at this point in the game, there’s not much and my life priorities being what they are, I am completely fine with this.

“I’m sure you have much more read than most of your cohort,” my therapist said to me as I explained my school stuff, “I suspect, you have always been a bit more prepared than most of your cohort,” she concluded.

And.

Well.

Yes.

She’s right.

I am a horrid perfectionist.

But that has eased as I have gotten used to the program and having seen the few times when I wasn’t completely caught up with my reading that I still held my own.

I am smart, I know how to listen, and I know how to contribute.

The one class that I haven’t really touched into yet for the reading was the last class to post its syllabus.

But.

Heh.

Um.

It’s a Transpersonal Psychology class.

So.

Spirituality and spiritual practices.

Yeah.

I think I might have that one bagged.

We have to keep a journal.

Pardon me while I laugh into my sleeve.

That shouldn’t be hard.

Ahem.

And talk about our spiritual experiences.

That will be interesting.

Like.

I put a prayer in my God box today.

God box?

Yes.

I have this hot pink, magenta really, pylon bunny rabbit from Paris that is a piggy bank, and I use it as a “God Box” a sort of repository for “problems” or things that I need to let go of and that I want God to have, I write down what I need to give to God, on a post it note, this one was pink, and then I fold it up, and say a few prayers.

I believe in prayer.

And I have a God of my understanding.

It doesn’t much matter to me what you think of me writing that God notes to help alleviate my issues, whatever they may be.

It’s the action that counts.

I don’t have to know the end results, in fact, it’s generally better if I don’t, I just have to take actions and something happens.

The writing it down and giving it up is an action of humility.

I don’t know how to deal with this, I am not God, I need help, I asking for guidance.

I can’t really do anything alone or in isolation.

I am not built like that.

Oh.

Fuck.

I have so tried.

I so want to figure it out on my own, I don’t want help, or so I say, I want to be strong and mighty and fierce and get it done without your help.

But.

Then.

When I don’t ask for help or I eschew what is being offered out of a false sense of pride, I ultimately lose.

I isolate.

I am alone.

And lonely.

That is never a good place for me to be.

So, yeah.

Just taking the time to write a little note and pop it in the God box, it does wonders.

I suppose my practice may seem strange or funny and I don’t really care.

I also pray in the morning, on my knees, another act of humility, a supplication, please help me, help me be of service, help me be kind, compassionate, tolerant, loving and forgiving.

Help me forgive myself, love myself, be the best possible version of me I can be.

Which I am not always.

I can get caught up in all sorts of scattered thinking or being maudlin, or distracted.

But.

To circle back.

I can forgive myself.

I haven’t finished the reading.

I won’t finish it.

It’s ok.

All I really have to do is show up on time.

Participate.

And be myself.

The rest will follow.

It always.

Always.

Always.

Does.

Serendipitous

August 18, 2017

Cancellations.

Two.

I had two cancellations today.

I went into my internship after work, which I was allowed to scoot out from a little early, with the idea that I would pop over to Gus’s community market and pick up a few things for dinner and then I run into an old friend who I haven’t seen in seven months, maybe eight.

We talked about what I was doing, practicum with my internship, and that we both are located in the same building.

She is a licensed MFT with an office in the building, once a week I have walked past it thinking, one of these days I’m going to run into her.

Today was that day.

We both are going to Burning Man as well.

She was, in fact surprised to see me, “aren’t you supposed to already be up there?”

Common misconception amongst many of my friends, I have often been gone by this time, already landed and working the event.

But not this year.

This year will be my first year without a job to be tethered to.

I have some freedom that I’m not sure exactly how I will fill, but fill it I will, I’m sure.

She and I chatted, caught up, and I let her know what my schedule was at the internship and she asked how they, the institution I intern for, take referrals.

I explained it and she said, “great!  I have a referral specifically for you, I’ll make sure the client asks for you.”

Wow.

I was blown away.

It was such a nice complement.

Then.

I ran into a fellow in my community that I haven’t seen since I started my school program, and he’s got a new office three doors down from me!

It was great getting caught up and he showed me his space and we chatted.

He told me he was really glad to see me, that I have “such great energy, I’m glad I’m going to see you a couple of times a week!”

Again.

Wow.

Nice, really, so sweet to be thought of that way.

That I have great energy, that there are therapists who want to refer clients to me, that I get to do this work.

Granted I didn’t do much work tonight, at least not direct face to face time with clients, but fuck, I did a lot of work today.

Up early and working on scheduling issues with clients and getting a transfer from another intern at the institute, e-mailing my assistant director and director, sending out clarification e-mails to clients and working on getting another of my syllabi printed off and sorted out.

Yes.

Finally.

All my classes are published online and I have all my syllabi printed.

I have all my books ordered.

I have a reader yet to pick up but I won’t deal with that until next weekend.

A week from tomorrow is my first weekend of my third and final year of this Masters in Counseling Psychology program.

One more year baby.

I know I can do it.

I did a bunch of reading today too.

Ok.

Well, not a bunch, but I got through all the reading, 171 pages, five chapters, in the Jungian Dream work book I have for my class and I got started on a homework assignment for the class.

Yeah.

I fucking did homework tonight and my classes haven’t yet started.

This happened to me last semester too, that I had a reflection paper due for one of my classes the first class of the weekend.

It’s not an accelerated program per se, but the month of classes a day time student would take, gets crammed into three days one weekend a month, so the amount of reading is huge and almost every class I have had has a lot of papers due in between the once a month meet up.

It’s a lot.

But.

Hey.

I can hold down a job while going to school full-time and, fingers crossed, while also doing an internship, which, I have to do, it’s a requirement for the school.

I must have a certain amount of hours to graduate the program.

It’s not horrendous, 255 I think.

Personally, I want to have a lot more than that, and originally I was gunning for the maximum amount of hours that I could acquire while in school.

Then I realized, fuck no.

I want a tiny bit of a life.

I’ve got slivers of time that are super precious to me and I’m not willing to go full whole hog, I need those small spots and spaces to keep myself from losing it while undertaking this endeavor.

So far.

Well, I like I said I don’t have the amount of hours I had thought I was going to accrue over the summer, I still have enough.

More than enough, really.

I have 124.50 hours logged.

Which is great.

I’m half way to where I need to be to graduate the program.

And.

I have two full semesters to get those hours.

I’m going to be just fine.

Things fall together.

Time is spacious and luscious and I don’t have to be anxious about it.

Just like I’m not going to be freaked out by not having all the reading done by next weekend.

I just won’t.

Oh.

I will have enough, and I suspect I will be far ahead of the majority of folks in m cohort, which seems to have been the precedent I have set for myself before even knowing I was doing it.

“I haven’t even ordered my books yet,” a friend in the cohort told me on Sunday over coffee.

I don’t roll like that.

As each syllabi was published I ordered the books necessary for the class.

Because a couple of my classes were not published expeditiously I haven’t got all my textbooks.

But.

I have enough.

And I’m doing enough.

Getting to have an unexpected cancellation tonight gave me a nice little cushion–finished the reading and the first assignment for one of my classes and roasted a chicken, got caught up with some more calendar stuff, went over the fall school schedule with my boss at work, and had a great phone check in with my person.

I will take the gift.

Grateful.

Really grateful.

And holy shit.

Tomorrow is Friday.

Yay!

Friday!

I can’t fucking wait.

SERIOUSLY.

Bring it on.

Calendar This

August 6, 2017

Bitches.

I updated my Google calendar today.

Just my personal one, not the one for my internship which feels like I am on it looking at it, figuring it out, all the time.

My personal one not so much.

But.

As days are getting filled I realized that it would be a smart idea to plug-in all my dates and look at my school weekends and get those all listed.

My last year of my Masters program.

Hard to fucking fathom it.

But.

It is.

I started my reading today for my Jungian Dream Work class.

I had a full day, it felt, just working on my calendar, I might have put in an hour on it.

I mean.

I really did do it up, putting in dates all the way up until the Aids LifeCycle ride in June of next year, June 3rd-9th.

I don’t know when graduation will be for school, that will be in May, I know that, but not necessarily when.

I won’t have to do summer school or summer practicum, since I did it this summer, so I’ll be able to walk free and clear and at the rate I’m collecting hours I will have more than double, perhaps triple the hours I need to graduate my program.

They will be just a drop in the bucket of what I have to accomplish overall, but I’ll be able to graduate with no sweat at the rate I am going.

I got to have my first experience with a couple today.

Which is awesome.

And.

Terrifying.

And amazing.

And.

A lot to hold.

I mean, it’s two people and I’m just one, staying in tune with everything that is in the room and it’s not to one person or the other that I need to attend, although I feel like I did a pretty decent job being balanced in my session.

Ultimately, though, the client is the relationship.

That means doing therapy in a different manner and it didn’t feel like there was enough time to get to everything that was happening, but then again, it was an initial consult and I may not be assigned this particular couple.

It was, however, a great learning experience, and as it was a couple the hour counts as two hours for the BBS (Behavioral Board of Sciences) who require at least 500 hours of Couples, Children, or Family Therapy.

It doesn’t matter if I want to be a therapist who works one on one with clients, the BBS requires me to do some hours of work with a family unit.

A couple is a great way to get those kinds of hours.

From what I can tell at my internship there are not a lot of Family hours available.

Nor child hours, but they do both and I have been assigned a child client, same client I did an intake with a few weeks ago, so there is that opportunity to pick up hours there.

Still.

500 hours.

That’s a lot.

Fuck.

3,000 hours ultimately is what I must have.

I’ve got 107.50 currently.

A drop in the bucket.

I know, though, I know it so well, that these things add up.

I just need to keep trudging the road and I’ll get there.

And there is plenty to keep me busy in the mean time.

It looks pretty damn good that I will not be going back to 35 hours a week at my nanny gig when school starts.

The mom and I had a very brief discussion about that, that the family wants me to stay at my current iteration of hours.

Which is 42 hours a week.

Sigh.

I can do it.

I know I can.

I can squeeze in the homework.

The baby will nap and I will read.

There may be times when that doesn’t happen, but I will get used to carrying my textbooks and reader with me and I will adjust to it.

School will be what school is.

Technically it should be easier than the first two years since part of my schedule is practicum, and well, I’m in it.

In fact.

I need to remember to pull my file on Monday when I go in and see my client.

I have a review and grade report from my supervisor waiting for me in the office.

I have to turn it into the school, which is basically turning in what ever grade my supervisor has given me and acknowledging that I am doing the work necessary for the school to pass me.

I don’t know if I get a letter grade for this or not.

I do know that it was more than just a page, more like three or possibly four pages of questions that the school needed my supervisor to weigh in on.

I currently have a 4.0.

I sure as shit hope I got an “A” if there is an assigned letter grade.

I can’t imagine that I would get less than that.

Which is not to be cocky, it’s just that I do show up, I do the work, I participate in my group supervision, I have clients who have rebooked with me.  I have clients that have requested to work with me after doing an initial consult.  I even received a very sweet thank you from one of my clients for the work we have been doing.

Unexpected and lovely that.

Anyway.

There are lots of things to juggle.

But I can do it.

And I am sure that I will still have time to do the pleasurable things that I need to do in my life and fingers crossed I’ll still be able to keep my blog practice happening.

I say that every semester and every semester I have managed to keep putting my paws on my keyboard and click clacking away.

It’s also one day at a time.

All I have to do today is what is in front of me.

I have to live in 24 hour increments or I will lose my mind.

And well.

That might suck for my burgeoning career as a psychotherapist.

Ha.

I can do it one little day at a time.

There is time for it all.

There really is.

And knowing that.

Well.

That’s a power I can’t quite fathom.

But I know without a single doubt.

I am being taken care of.

Completely.

Every single day.

With great love and compassion.

Which is more than I ever hoped for.

Life is full.

And.

Amazing.

Beyond my wildest dreams.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

Push Button Baby

August 1, 2017

I saw a couple on the side of the road as I zoomed down Lincoln Way frantically trying to kick over the starter on a vintage Vespa.

I chuckled to myself.

The old Vespas look so fucking cool.

I know.

I used to have one.

It was such a pretty girl.

But.

Man.

It was such a hassle to get it started or it would conk out on me out of the blue.

Like coming down Laguna Honda in the fog going 40 miles an hour.

I got tired of that really fast.

That.

And the freaking horrifying sprained ankle that I got when the kick starter jammed and I folded my ankle in half.

That was no fun.

Months, years really, of healing.

The doctor was shocked it wasn’t broken and then told me it was too bad it wasn’t since the sprain is slower to heal and how badly I had injured it I would be lucky if it was healed fully in a year and a half.

He was right.

It took that much time to heal.

Actually closer to two years, if I’m honest, I had to be really careful and there were times when I could feel it was still injured.

It put a bad taste in my mouth for every having something vintage like that again.

Truth too.

I wasn’t prepared for the amount of maintenance and well, it turned out it was a knock off Vespa, despite the registration issued from the DMV, it was a knock off Vietnam Vespa and no body in town would touch it to repair it.

So.

I got rid of it.

I had it recycled.

I got it off the road.

I wasn’t going to be responsible for someone else getting injured on it and when the mechanics at the shop told me all the issues with it I was shocked that I hadn’t hurt myself more on it, I could have easily crashed it out.

Granted.

There were some gleeful moments on it when someone would pull up to me on it at a light and chat with me about it, the scooter really was well done, no one had a clue it was fake.

Certainly not I.

I was a tiny bit bamboozled you could say.

Any way, that’s an old story and not the point.

The point is.

Thank fucking god for my scooter.

I live in the Outer Sunset.

I work in Glen Park.

My internship is in the Mission.

My school is in the SOMA.

I have supervision in Hayes Valley.

And.

Therapy in Noe Valley.

I have to get all over the city.

And the scooter is quick.

Of course, I do have some anxiety about what will happen when the fall comes and the rains that generally come with the fall.

I will either have to get used to wet weather riding or figure something else out.

I can ride in the rain.

I have done it.

I do not like it, but it’s doable.

I was talking to my friend yesterday as she was getting the last of her household packed up for travels back to France and she looked at me and said, “drive safe poulette (her term of endearment for me–sexy girl, although literal translation is chicken, I like to think of it as “chick” or chickadee), maybe it’s time you got a car.”

Yeah.

There’s that.

Aside from the fact that it would be handy to go to Burning Man.

Heh.

Still haven’t gotten a ride yet, still hedging my bets with a rental, but that too is beside the point.

I don’t know what exactly the point is.

I haven’t had a car for over a decade.

I got rid of mine two weeks after moving here in 2002.

Fuck.

Nearly fifteen years with no car.

Lots of bicycles.

And two scooters.

I do like my scooter and I do so appreciate getting around on it.

I just have time concerns now that I didn’t have before.

I mean.

My schedule has always been full, but then I added in graduate school and graduate school added in an internship and um, ha, since, I’m a therapist in training, I have to be on time for my clients.

I get done with work at 6p.m. and I have clients at 6:30 p.m. Mondays, Tuesday, Thursdays, and I have been assigned a new client to see on Fridays now at 6:30p.m.

My first child client!

Bring on the child and family hours!

Ahem.

I digress.

This whole blog is a digression.

Sometimes when I don’t want to write about what I want to write about, I can go off on tangents.

Shadrach.

Scooter accident.

Dead.

Today.

10 years.

I had a little contact with his mom today after she posted a photo of visiting his grave.

Add onto that saying goodbye yesterday to my darling French friend.

Great recipe for sadness.

I felt heavy with it this morning when I left my house to go meet with my supervisor.

I got to Hayes Valley early and had a fifteen minute window so I called my person and shared about it and he said, “you sound sad,” and there it was, the sad, the heaviness in me, it was sadness.

Tears welled up and spilled down my face.

Yup.

Sad.

So we made a plan to meet at a church in the Inner Sunset after I got out of supervision.

It was so good.

I got right with God.

Then we went for tea at Tart to Tart and had a good session.

We sent my friend from Paris a good-bye photo of the two of us having tea, my face a little wet with tears, and my person smiling to beat the band, ugh, not all selfies are sexy.

Ha.

Oh.

Sadness.

I had my cry though and things began to shift.

I came home, made a nice lunch and then did some school work.

Because.

It’s that time.

I have two syllabi posted up and I checked them out and ordered books for class.

I sighed and realized I was pretty burnt out with the emotions.

And I decided.

You know what?

Nap.

I need a nap.

And that’s what I did.

It was perfect.

I had a little rest then got up, prepped some food for dinner and I could feel the sad had moved out of my body.

I got my things together and hopped back on my scooter, went to my internship, dealt with progress notes and paperwork and then saw a client.

By the time my session ended I was feeling great.

So nice that.

Go.

Be of service.

Feel better.

I scooted home.

Zipped by the park, rode the curves of Lincoln Way, smelled the bonfires at Ocean Beach and though it was cold and a bit foggy, I felt lifted, carried, loved.

I miss you Shadrach.

But.

You would be pretty proud of me.

Ten years.

You think the grief would have gone out of my body, but sometimes it is still there and needs expressing.

I’m grateful I didn’t squash it.

I just had it.

And I’m grateful for the emotions.

I get to have them.

Feelings.

It means I am alive.

And after all the death I have been witness to.

Well.

That’s a fucking miracle.

So glad I still get to be around.

Happy.

Joyous.

Alive.

And.

Free.

Slip Into Something More Comfortable

February 13, 2017

Like my bunny slippers.

Yes.

Baby.

Ooh.

That feels so good.

I wore my new Fluevogs today, my interview shoes, all day at school.

Loads of compliments, but they are not quite broke in yet and I realized when I got home, yeah, time to take them off, and slide into my slippers.

Happy feet.

Happy heart.

I got to see my cohort out in style today.

I gave everyone a Valentines Day card.

Felt really good and sweet and I love to spread the love.

I do.

It’s just who I am and I am glad to know it, to have it in my heart, to show it, to accept it when it comes back too.

I also got to have lunch with my friends in cohort, catch up, share stories, be together, be seen and after I got out I ran a quick errand then caught a late afternoon coffee, decaf thank you, with a lady and do some work showing up for each other in honesty and good faith.

Then.

Go speak.

And.

Do the deal.

Then have dinner with another friend who unexpectedly came to the spot and that was a gift, I am so grateful for my friends.

So grateful.

It was really good to catch up with my friend at dinner and we could have hung out for hours more, but ah yes, the work week calls, it’s not quite so siren song.

I mean, I suppose it is a siren song, I can’t ignore it, but I can lament, a tiny bit the end of the weekend the coming of the work.

Though.

I am grateful too for that.

I am.

I really like my new job and it feels good to look forward to work and to look forward to seeing the family, to look forward to helping them and seeing how big the baby has gotten over the weekend and to cook for them.

Such gifts.

So much life.

I am just in a super happy, serene place.

I am also well fed, hydrated, showered and have had sweet, smart company today.

Life.

You could say.

Is good.

Very good.

All life is good I am grateful to be alive.

Period.

If life were fair.

I have said many, many times.

I would be dead.

But.

I am still here, still making a go at it, still learning, and loving and changing.

I have plenty to get ready for this next week, school stuff mostly, I have to get my paper work in order for the next steps in my practicum process, but I talked to my advisor today and was very excited by his excitement for me and for getting placed.

I’m a little a head of the curve in regards to the rest of the cohort, and there is no judgment there, I just knew I needed to be in position to get what I needed to take care of myself.

But I must continue to be proactive and take the next small steps.

I will give myself a day or two to breathe and come down from the weekend of classes before I leap back into the work, at least tomorrow, at least one day of down time, not taking my books to work, just easing into the work week.

Which may not feel easy in my brain since I am going to ask off for Burning Man dates, but that too is just asking a question, I just have expectations.

When I can let go of the expectation though, and just know that I am going to be wherever God wants me to be, usually in a pace of maximum service then I know I am going to be ok.

I ask.

I let go of the results.

Of course.

I want to go so it feels loaded, when ever my wants are on the table it can bring up fear.

I’m not going to get what I want or I’m going to lose something I already have.

I’d rather ask in faith, knowing that whatever the outcome, I’m taken care of.

I’m going to Paris in May for fucks sake, I get to go on vacation, I’ll be starting my internship, I have a job, I have a home to live in, I have nice shoes and clothes, I have my scooter.

I am taken care of.

Heck.

I have a tax return returning.

It’s pretty good, this life of mine, really, superb.

I feel that my little blog is a bit rambling tonight, but I have to give myself some credit, I have gotten up early every day for the last three days, shown up prepared and did the work in my classes.

I did a lot of work.

Lots of emotional work.

Lots of staying in the moment work.

Lots of dyad work.

I may allow myself to be a little all over the place, I just feel so content and blissed out on having gotten to see my friends, both in school and out of school, to have had some social engagement, to feel like life is not just all work and recovery and school, there are these wonderful beings called friends that want to see me and spend time with me and how lucky am I?

Hella lucky.

Hella grateful.

And yes.

Hella tired.

My bed beckons.

I bid you adieu.

Bon nuit.

Bon soir.

Trop gros bisous pour toi.

A demain mes amies!

J’aime toi beaucoup.

xo

Get It Done

January 30, 2017

Until I can’t get it no more.

I have a head ache.

I read a lot today.

A fucking lot.

So much.

But that being said I am done with all my Trauma reading for class as well as having listened to an hour-long This American Life segment, and I did all my Couples Therapy reading.

Holy shit.

There was so much of that.

I find it on again, off again, hilarious that I am doing all this work for my Couples Therapy class.

Irony, no?

I’m not in a relationship.

I have never been married.

Half-assed proposed to twice.

Oops.

Ha.

Make that three times, I forgot one of them until I wrote that sentence.

However, so much of Couples Therapy seems to be understanding what the individual wants and is feeling, I can get behind that.

I have done loads of work finding my emotions.

Like yesterday when I was feeling “fat.”

First, fat is not a feeling.

I was feeling sad and a bit disgruntled that it was harder to find what I wanted than I had imagined.  I was feeling overwhelmed by the options, none of which felt like they were good options for me.  I was feeling that I was not enough, not good enough to be shopping and spending money on myself or my pursuits.  I was also feeling a little guilty, like should I even be buying new clothes?  A touch of survivor guilt there.

And underneath all of that.

I was feeling really vulnerable and that I needed to have a nice protective shell around me and I wasn’t able to locate one.

That I was embarking on a new journey into some sort of professional type career and I’ve never done this before and I am feeling not enough and scared.

Ah.

There you are fear.

Always at the root of I’m feeling “fat.”

Thanks for sharing.

Heh.

So, yeah, I have some ideas about how to navigate feelings, I’ve been practicing.

What was interesting in the reading for me as well was to find some of my own patterns in past relationships, places I had lost my voice and instead of trying to share and be vulnerable I got shut in or I shut up.

I let the other persons needs completely supersede mine until I couldn’t stand it any longer and I had to get the hell out.

I’d love to not do that again, but the chances are I probably will.

The thing is not to not do the thing, but to be compassionate with myself when I do and also, to allow myself to be open and vulnerable.

Relationships will have conflict.

It’s how I navigate the conflict.

It’s allowing myself to navigate the conflict.

And to ask for what I need without expecting the other person to fulfill my needs.

I’m definitely learning some nice little tidbits, almost makes a lady want a relationship to practice on.

As though I don’t have plenty, work, school, personal friendships, family.

Loads of relationships.

I meant romantic, since I’m studying Couples Therapy this semester.

Anyway.

The reading.

It got done.

I did some other things today and when I stop to think about them, I realize that it was more than enough, but I did have a moment when I thought, I have to get out and do something, I have to.

So I rode up to the Inner Sunset on my scooter to get a manicure.

But the shop was swamped and the other place I sometimes go to was closed.

I got a little frustrated, there was nothing for me to do, I suppose I could have done more grocery shopping, but I wasn’t feeling it, I had done a little run to my co-op and didn’t really feel like doing more.

I didn’t need to cook more, I had done my food prep for the week earlier today.

I didn’t really need to buy anything.

I didn’t have a place to go or be.

It was an odd time of late afternoon, almost early evening and I realized that the best thing to do would be to just come home and do the reading I had somewhat handily denied to myself that I needed to do (a bit of, I’ll just read at work, or on the train, going on in my brain) and thank God I did.

I don’t think I realized how long the reading was going to be.

I read for at least three hours.

My brain feels a little soggy right now.

I have read for longer than that, pleasure reading, but scholarly work is different and requires a different kind of attention and focus.

Plus, the This American Life segment, which was an hour, reviewing syllabi, going over the practicum stuff for this week, and getting ready for the next open house on Wednesday and my interview on Thursday.

So.

Um, yeah.

A lot of time devoted to school today.

I did not write my Trauma paper, but I’ll be able to knock it out next weekend and it’s just 3-6 pages.

I’ll get it done in an hour.

It’s not a research paper, it’s a reflection paper, so I can just write about what I felt going over the first weekend of material, class, and the readings.

The rest of the week, when I have time to, I will be doing the reading for my Community Mental Health class.

I do not like the readings at all for this class, too much policy reading, stale, governmental readings with no soul or poetry or elegance to them.

Thank God the teacher has plenty of soul and poetry and elegance to him, otherwise I’d be dead in the water.

Public policy is not my milieu.

Nope.

I got done what I needed to get done and I’m happy with that.

Plus.

Two loads of laundry and a spotless, and I do mean spotless, house.

I cleaned.

I always clean before I need to do homework.

Nothing says procrastination like house cleaning over homework.

But.

My little space looks like a shining jewel box.

I was reflecting with much pleasure as I sat on the chaise in the corner underneath a big reading lamp, my home, so warm and clean and pretty.

Smelling homey and comfy.

I roasted a chicken.

Little Sunday rituals, self-care, and yoga in the morning.

It was not a bad day at all.

And though I did not manage to get my nails done, I did end up taking a scenic detour home from the Inner to Outer Sunset, through Golden Gate Park on my scooter as the sun was setting through the Truffula trees (what I call the Monterey Pines, I swear I think that’s the tree species that Seuss was referencing in his drawings), the washes of light blues and the underlining golden colors of sunset, the hydrangea blooming, Stow Lake, the water reflecting the last of the sun, the end of the day, golden and washed with glimmer.

It was a lovely reminder of where I get to live.

And when I got home and walked into my jewel box of a home I was glad.

Glad to be home.

Grateful to have time to devote to my studies.

And content with myself and my efforts.

I am enough.

I have enough.

I do.

I really do.

Choices, Options, Decisions

January 28, 2017

Home.

It was just to come home.

And I was very much ok with the coming home.

In fact.

I danced around my home feeling pretty happy and complete.

I had a good day at work.

I had a great meeting of the minds after work.

I got asked out to dinner.

And this time I got the feeling it was more than for just fellowship.

I said yes.

I don’t know when we’re going to go, but I feel like we will be going soon.

He had a cold or we might have grabbed a bite tonight.

I decided to opt out of going to my friend’s birthday dinner.

I was already half way towards home and super hungry.

I just couldn’t fathom turning my scooter back around, going the other direction into Friday night end of the week cocktail traffic and doing a late sushi dinner.

I was too hungry.

I figured the best thing to do was ping my friend, extend my happy birthday wishes and head home to eat some tasty dinner here.

I just did and I am quite pleased.

I am also pleased as I have paid my rent for February and I bought myself a few things online from ModCloth for new interview clothes.

Why?

Because I’ll be interviewing soon.

How do I know that?

I got a response to my resume and cover letter this morning!

Hi Carmen!
Thank you so much for your resume and info. I recall meeting you at the practicum fair.
It does look like you might be a great match for our therapeutic community here. I’d like to invite you in for a casual interview.
Please let me know some days and time-frames that would work for you and we’ll schedule a casual interview.
Thanks! 
Whoa.
I had completely forgotten I had even applied.
Hahaha.
The e-mail this morning caught me off guard.
I was not looking for it, just checking my e-mail as I had breakfast and was enjoying some coffee, thinking about what I might me doing this weekend and my plans had changed when I discovered I had gotten my period.
Yeah.
TMI.
Fuck you.
But no, there will be no fucking me.
Canoodle session canceled.
Which I am alright with.
I realized after I had gotten this e-mail.
I am going to need to do some shopping for some interview clothes tomorrow!
Yippee!
I like clothes shopping when I’m in the mood and I have to say, I’m in the mood now.
Hehe.
Super excited.
And fingers crossed we will be doing the interview soon as I would really love to nail down my practicum site and not proceed forward with more open houses and more applications and more interviews.
I responded with times and days and fingers crossed I’ll hear back soon.
I also contacted the third year student in my program, he’s the person who recommended the place to me, and said, I got asked in for a casual interview, any suggestions?
He said, “just go in and be your fabulous self.”
Well fuck.
I can do that.
And though it will be casual, whatever that means, I do feel like I want to show up nicely dressed and coiffed.
Really what it comes down to is that I need a pair of nice flats.
I don’t have a single pair of flats.
Oh.
I have tennis shoes.
Converse and a pair of Saucony.
And I have my boots.
But I don’t see wearing rain boots.
Or.
My Burning Man boots.
Um no.
Then I have a couple of pairs of heels, but I don’t have the appropriate interview attire to go with them, they were bought for dresses which I feel are too dressy for the interview.
And I have plenty of wedges and platforms.
But walking into an interview in 4 inch Mary Jane black suede platforms might be just a bit too much fabulous.
I figure I need to hop over to Macy’s downtown and grab a pair of D’Orsay flats from Nine West, they carry my size and they’re not super expensive, plus they’re cute and I can wear them with other outfits.
Then maybe I pop into Banana Republic and grab a nice pair of slacks or a long skirt, a simple button down and maybe a blazer jacket.
Nothing too fancy, but clean, simple, pulled together.
The site is in the Mission and it’s a Community Therapy model, so I don’t think any one is going to be over concerned with my outfit, but I know that it’s better to come in looking tidy then roll up in jeans and Converse.
Even if I end up doing the practicum hours in jeans and Converse, which is a likelihood, I will feel better being well suited for the first get together.
I’m going to get up, go to a 9 a.m. yoga class.
Shower.
Breakfast.
Coffee.
Scooter up to 7th and Irving, meet my person at Tart to Tart at 12:15p.m.
Then another lady at 1:15p.m.
Lunch.
Then a manicure and some lunch.
After lunch I’ll head downtown and do the shopping.
Hopefully it won’t take too long and then I’ll head to the NOPA do the deal and maybe if I’m feeling it, hang out and do some fellowship, grab dinner at Brenda’s if folks are going out.
Sunday will be yoga, taxes, homework, cooking for the week, reading, write a paper.
And if I get it all done I will be taking the suggestion to go see a movie.
I may not though.
And I’ll be ok with that.
I did promise myself that since I wasn’t going out tonight to my friend’s birthday gig I would try to get out tomorrow and connect with people.
Keep myself from isolating and be in the stream of life.
Because I suspect I’ll be starting practicum soon and I want to have some fun to balance out all the school stuff.
And though there is more work to do.
I am excited.
I am happy I got a response to my resume.
And.
I’m happy I got asked out to dinner.
Yes.
Yes I am.

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