things that piss me off every.single.time.

1. Tree carnage (land being cleared for construction).

2. People being mean to or simply objectifying animals.*

3. Panhandlers with dogs tied up next to them.

I think the nature of my work with humans has a lot to do with my not getting super angry about human stuff.

I mean, I hear some pretty awful things on a regular basis. I sit with people in the middle of their awful. It’s emotionally draining. After work, I have little left for the rest of life … and what IS left goes to my husband and baby and then the rest of my family.

So, as a result, I get inappropriately angry and saddened by hurting dogs and the loss of green spaces instead of the great social injustices of our age. It may be wrong, but it’s my right.

* Yes, I eat meat. So, I’m admittedly a hypocrite. But, I’m really talking about dogs and horses and rodents and the occasional cat … none of which I eat.

12.28.16

"Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. ..."

Loving the whole of Psalm 16 this morning. Feels kind of like a proclamation of mental health on David's part. He's resourcing with an Eternal nurturer. Describing real resilience. The counselor (and human) in me loves it :)

just saying

I'm at a 3-day EMDR workshop, faced with this burning question:

At which age do you become too old to put your head down on the desk? 

#sotired #sittingallday  

insomnia

They call it secondary trauma. Exposure to another's tragic or uncomfortable experience results in a unique psychological effect. Unlike first-responders, who often cope with coming face-to-face with trauma regularly by detaching, a therapist's job is to attach - to enter in and empathize. We don't get to detach. And it's exhausting. But, sometimes - like tonight - it makes it so I can't sleep.

#30days ... my clients

I'm grateful for ...

My regulars - I'm honored by their trust, inspired by their stick-to-it-vness, and changed by their continued transformation. I am thankful to get to be a part of their process, to hear their story and to watch them write new chapters!

on who I wasn't

“Ten years from now, may we all look back and love who we were while hardly recognizing them.”

— Don Miller

This is kind of a mind dump, so prepare yourself for fragments and a rough flow …

——

I spent a lot of my life trying to be someone I just wasn’t.

A dancer. A singer. An actress. A speaker. A choreographer. A leader. 

I didn’t know I wasn’t those things. I guess I kept thinking I could be. So, I kept alluding to being this girl that I wasn’t. Looking back, I can confidently say I didn’t do any of it maliciously or pathologically. Always curious, always wanting to be better, I’d sign up for things, thinking I should and that it’d be different this time — that it’d be natural, good, maybe even easy. But it wasn’t. Ever. At all. 

I punked out each and every time it was time to perform.

I’d quit. Back out. Stall. I even faked sickness a time or two.

Something started me thinking about it all last night. I felt the flush of a fool and it was like opening up pandora’s box. In an instance, memory after memory came flooding back — reminders of times when I ran because I knew I wasn’t going to live up to expectations — mine and/or someone else’s …

Soccer. Track. That time I got cheerleading co-captain for basketball. That acting class. Club president. Choreographing for a local JV cheerleading squad. Choreographing for the church’s family program. Speaking at/welcoming/doing a skit at FCA. Chorus in 7th grade. Random pickup sports. I’m still not even sure I didn’t initially pursue my current career because I realized I just wasn’t an expert in my former one. The list goes on …

This is my pattern. That’s my confession. My fear of failure. My self-loathing and condemnation. My pride and self-protection. My idolizing of labels and talents and my pathetic pursuit of what was never mine to catch.

I’m writing this now because I feel the pull of old habits. Feeling slow at success in this new career, I’m inclined to sign up for what’s not mine to own … to be what I’m not … to walk toward something I’ll most likely turn tail and run from eventually …

But, I won’t give in. It’s harder to run the older you get. There’s more to lose. Less to gain. It’s not really even an option anymore — to walk away. Finances won’t stand for it. My reputation wouldn’t survive it. And frankly, I actually don’t want to run. Even though it’s hard and I’m still learning and growing into/from it, I like where I’m at, what I’m doing, and who I’m impacting. I'm good at this, even if I like to tell myself that I'm not.

So, I’m not going to try and be what I’m not. I’ll never be that counselor that works cases just to get hours. I’ll never be that counselor that markets herself as an expert on something just because it’s a good marketing/brand strategy. I’m made for an in-depth discussion in a little room behind a closed door. I’m a reader and a writer and a thinker. I’m an introvert. I’m flawed. I’m still learning how to evade depression and to reach for connection. I care less about what you think than I did, but still care a little too much about what I think of myself … and I have to stop apologizing for all of it.

I’m working on loving who I am and who I was in my scared, impressionable, reactionary years. My husband says there's a silver lining in all of it — a hint of nobility in my quitting — I got to try a lot of different things, more than most people. I tested waters. I found out for sure what I liked and what I didn’t … what I could do and what I couldn’t … where I fit and what grated against my nature. I may not have known it then, but I know it now.

I’m better today for my foolish ways and failures of yesterday. Praise God.

my kind of sunday

Currently: I'm sitting on a beach chair in my open garage, overlooking my freshly cleaned car on the driveway, listening to Brad Paisley sing about inner tubes and trailer hitches, sipping a Jose Cuervo margarita out of a plastic cup and reading a 10-page paper from 1980 on Gestalt Therapy written by Gertrude Krause. 

Currently: I kind of like myself. And my life. 

#feelthegood

on scrambling

My state-required bi-weekly supervision sessions are costly, but they're worth it. Especially last week's hour.

A little backstory: Eight months into my new career and building my own business, I've been fighting a feeling of failure. I've been fretting over my lack of client hours (seriously, why did I choose a career in which it is my job to make my job obsolete?!) and the fact that a lack of client hours results in a lack of experiential learning opportunities. A lack of learning makes me feel largely inadequate. So, I been frettin'.

Frankly, I've moved beyond fretting to full-on desperation. So, with a lack of clients to talk about in last week's supervisory session, the conversation turned toward me and my fight against feeling like a failure. The conversation didn't start out that way. It started with me talking about all the things I was DOING to fix my perceived "problem."

Him: "So, you're scrambling." 

Me: "Yea, I'm scrambling. [thinking] I don't want to be bad at this counseling thing. I can't afford for this not to work."

Him: "Why do you scramble?" 

Me: "I don't want to talk about this."

Why didn't I want to talk about it? Because I can't handle this feeling of failing. I don't enjoy feeling like I'm not in control. I don't like being needy and vulnerable and uncomfortable. What does it say about me if I can't get this done right and well and NOW?

My supervisor, himself a great counselor, knew my answer. He didn't expect me to answer. He knows I know. Then he told me the story again of the research done on what sets the most successful entrepreneurs apart from the scrambling masses ...

Turns out successful people never think of themselves as failures. Things they do may fail (i.e. that failed), but they, themselves, are never failures (i.e. I failed).

So, as of right now, I have this knowledge that I'm not a failure ... but making it heart knowledge is where I'm a little bit stuck. If I don't rock this ... and the money and the acknowledgement doesn't flow ... somehow I have to figure out how to believe that it's okay and that it's not a reflection on who I am.

And there I go ... a scramblin' again .... :) It's quite the ineffective, but instinctual little pattern of doing life I've got going on, ain't it?

Chances are, how you're doing life isn't quite working for you anymore either. How aware are you of your unhelpful habits of doing, thinking, being?

Welcome to the reality of (and the best proof of the need for) counseling:

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it." — Romans 7:15-20

on knowing yourself

“A proper understanding of the soul also holds the promise of revitalizing Christian spirituality. Another consequence of the acceptance of the artifical distinction between the psychological and spiritual aspects of persons has been a practice of Christian spirituality that emphasized knowing God but failed to emphasize knowing self. Tragically, this has often lead to a spirituality that is neither grounded nor vitally integrated within the fabric of total personhood. Not only does such a spirituality fail to transform us in the depths of our being, it also leads to all the dangers associated with a lack of integrity. A spirituality that fails to involve the totality of our being is inevitably a spirituality that furthers our fragmentation.”

— from Care of Souls by David Benner

on catching up: copy, clients and colorado

I know, it's been awhile! Miss me?

Anyway, aside from prepping for (and going on) my FIRST EVER ski vacation (we'll get to that in a second), I've been writing less because I've actually been writing more. I'm freelance copywriting a lot these days to bridge the financial gap left by last year's career switch. I'm writing marketing and technical copy for everything under the sun — from a party hat company to a small business IT solutions provider ... with a little HVAC repair, medical equipment supplier and roofing contractor thrown in! (Need a copywriter? Get in touch.)

So, my downtime has ceased to exist ... and, while I'm occasionally annoyed by that, I'm grateful for the opportunity to make money at something that utilizes one of my giftings and seems to flow pretty effortlessly.

Now, sitting with clients in therapy? Yea, that's still not so effortless. I'd say the days of sheer terror and intense feelings of inadequacy are fewer, but this new career (and the by-product business venture) continues to poke all my buttons. Seven and a half months in, I'm not where I want to be (hours and client load-wise) and that's disappointing. However, I've done some stuff I couldn't have imagined doing 7.5 months ago (like writing curriculum for and leading a 7-week class for 70 women) and that's encouraging. I am growing into the empathetic, helping professional I'm designed to be and that's kind of cool ... (Know someone looking for a counselor? Send them my way.)

Beyond that (Beware! GUSH ALERT!) ... I'm falling more in love with the Mr. every day. In this man is such a wonderful pairing of youth and maturity. Innocence and wisdom. Humor and sensitivity. Whether he's wakeboarding in a wetsuit in February, taking a GoPro for a sled ride, posting worship highlights, burning wood palettes, buying me flowers, researching stock options, cuddling on the couch to watch "the shows", scratching Moose or making faces at the nephews, he's 100% committed and delightful. For getting to know him best and getting to be with him the most ... I am the luckiest.

---

KEYSTONE, COLORADO (1/28-2/2)

Finally, the ski vacation. It was fantastic! I love me some Colorado — at least in the winter, in the midst of crazy snow storms ... and as a vacationer. I'm a #FloridaGirl, so this was my first time experiencing single digit temperature lows and FALLING SNOW and 36" of fluffy powder on the ground. It was crazy ... and beautiful ... and I can't wait to go again!

Here's a quick glimpse (and related linkage) of the trip:

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// Flights: Frontier / Lodging / Ski School: Ski & Ride / Ski Rentals: Mountain View Sports / Food: Casa Bonita (Denver); Goat Soup and Whiskey Tavern; The Warming Hut; Dillion Dam Brewery; Red Mountain Grill; Atomic Cowboy (Denver)

on southpaws and therapy

Sometimes it feels like my "job" is to point out the obvious.

For a few seconds at the beginning of my counseling career, I felt like a shyster — taking money for noting out loud what seemed blatantly obvious. But when, with client after client, what I saw as "obvious" was declared a "lightbulb moment" for them, I began to not only value the service I offered, but to wonder at the phenomenon itself.

What I've come to realize is that we humans have an amazing capacity for NOT putting two and two together. It doesn't matter who you are — genius, successful, experienced, educated or not — you miss something. Lots of somethings. It's like we walk around with blinders on.

I'm no exception. Case and point:

I've always known I was a "southpaw." But, until last Friday, I thought eating and writing were the only things I did with my left hand. Turns out I brush my teeth left-handed, too. It took me more than 30 years to note something I've been doing for more than 30 years. Crazy, right? The discovery came out of a casual discussion with my in-laws about my left-handedness. Someone probed me about my habits and, forced to think about it, I was astonished by what I discovered.

Lest you think these moments of epiphany must be few and far between, I shall astonish you with another story of astonishment from this past week:

Last Sunday, I was cruising the Costco aisles with my parents (yup, #merica) when some dried mango caught my eye. I think I hugged a bag to my chest and regaled my father with a story of culinary courtship. My dad grabbed the bag from me, slid his eyes over the label and muttered, "Huh, sulfur dioxide. Bet it makes you fart." I laughed. We put it in the cart. I've been munching on it all week. And ... wait for it ... yup, I've been visiting the bathroom a little more than usual all week.

So, turns out dad was right. Sulfur dioxide should not be consumed by humans. Today, thinking back on his utterance in the aisle, I realize that my beloved dried mango messes with my stomach. There's a correlation. And thinking back on the past couple of months since I first discovered said mango, the mango has ALWAYS messed with my stomach. There's ALWAYS been a correlation. I just don't know that I would have seen it had my dad not mentioned sulfur dioxide.

Needless to say, I tossed out the rest of the mango today.

Anyway, the point? I think we all do a lot of things out of habit. Whether it's muscle memory or instinct or learned behavior, we do a lot without thinking about it. We don't always connect the dots. That's not inherently a bad thing ... at all ... but it can be. That's where I think therapy can be helpful — in the cluing us in and clarifying of things.

No, you certainly don't need to know that you brush your teeth with your left hand or that mango makes you fart. However, it may help you to know

... that you're attracted to chaotic relationships because that's what you grew up navigating.

... that being uncomfortable is comforting to you and that that's why you sabotage anything good in your life.

... that you eat excessively (or starve) because food is the one thing in life you've ever felt you had any power/control over.

... that you drink alcohol to avoid being socially awkward because being socially awkward makes you feel what you've always felt and believed about yourself — that you're alone and unworthy of love and attention.

... that [insert your story here] ...

All of it, any of it, might help you to know that change is possible.

I think therapy is a lot about that stuff — the exploration of what we do and why we do it and why it matters. More importantly, therapy is about the hope generated by the exploration — a brand new opportunity to respond accordingly, to begin again ... to be transformed.

Awareness is a requisite first step toward change. So, here's to taking the blinders off?

Love.

on why I write less

I've gotten really bad at blogging, haven't I? It's the lack of spare time. Or maybe it's the lack of productive use of limited spare time. Either way, I haven't been much of a writer these days.

The need to "get it all down on paper" has been less of an impulse. I'm not sure if it's because I'm busier, more mature or just not as easily moved. Maybe it's all of those reasons. Or none at all.

There's a mechanism in my brain I have been learning how to turn on and off. It's the one that opens a vortex to idealism and empathy and pervasive concern. It leads to a beautiful space, but it's the one that, if left open, would pull me into everyone else's stories so deeply that I would lose myself. I think it's a battle every Christian therapist has to wage — walking the line between care and crazy. To not be disturbed by the levels of depravity and despair filling client lives would make me less than human. But to let that disturbance overwhelm would be my ruin. So, I learn to leave it all in the office.

How? I learn the value of now — to sit in today … this hour … this moment. Yes, still making wise choices for tomorrow, but finding sanity and peace in an exploration of today. I remember that just like no theory offers a complete formula or explanation for pathology, personality or purpose, no pathology, personality or purpose should ever be considered definitive or fathomable. I remember I am not the Savior, that I cannot enact another's change or healing. I let go of thinking that I have any idea of what's best or good or right for anyone but myself … and I let go of the weight of responsibility such ignorant thinking once placed upon me.

As a result, my passion to write has withered slightly. There's a subtle ring of detachment around the rim of my interests and opinions. I guess as more people's stories flood my life, less people get to be party to the chapters of mine? I'm not sure. Like I said, it could be a phase brought on by a busy season of life … or not. I guess we'll see? Two weeks and counting 'til the end of the semester …

Love.