I wrote this two weeks ago. Actually, I wrote about four posts discussing the pain I was in, but I immediately deleted every single one. Too scary to be so vulnerable. But this one I saved, and today I read through it and decided I want to post it, mostly because yesterday I got kind of comforted, and I want to write about that, only it won't make sense if I haven't also shared where I was before.
Under the cut for cussing. The deeper I go within myself, the more comfort I find in expressing my pain and confusion in words that might offend you. Be forewarned and just stay away if you want to avoid it--that's fine.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Hello, Mojo, I Missed You
Going back to school is a guaranteed rush of TOO MANY THOUGHTS. There are classes to prepare for, relationships to renew, and the thing about studying theology and counseling is that those topics sink into real life situations and stick with you. It's a bit of an overload, honestly, which is why I haven't been blogging. I can't blog until I've got a handle on whatever I want to talk about, even if the words themselves flow out without censorship.
The thing about this semester, I think, is that I'm finally taking charge. In my introversion studies, I learned that introverts can be just as a) outgoing and b) assertive as anyone, only they need to feel a) safe and b) comfortable in order to do so. Can I get an amen? Apparently after a year in a new city studying a new subject with new friends, I feel safe and comfortable!
On the social side, I'm a bit flabbergasted, because when did I accumulate so many friends? It's lovely, but a little unwieldy, because whereas before I had a friend in this class and a friend in that class, now we are all together and it's hard to juggle them all. But lovely, too, because obviously. Twice a week I'm at school throughout lunch, and my normal habit is to eat on the stone patio behind the library where nobody goes, then hang out in the library proper and get some schoolwork done before my next class. But I keep being thwarted by people who assume I want to be social! This pisses me off momentarily, because I need to regroup and recharge, but it's nice to catch up with people.
On the academic side, I am killing it. Over the summer I fully owned the fact that I do in fact want to study counseling, and landed solidly on the fact that this is a career I want to devote the next however-many years of my life to mastering. What a difference (plus, see above, comfort, safety).
My angelology class has a group presentation (isn't seminary where we avoid contact with other students, gross, eurgh, yuck) and I was feeling assertive the day we gathered, so I volunteered to be the chairperson. It is so fun! Although last night I realized the danger of leading a bunch of people studying to be leaders, because a guy emailed me a list of extremely detailed notes which "might be useful" to me in leading our meeting today. Back up off me, boy! Really, he was a man in his 40s, and when we met and I incorporated some of his ideas, but not all of them, everyone meshed really well and anyway, I'm just saying I'm really enjoying being the chairperson.
Dr. Barnes emailed the MABC students saying he is researching "Individual Sexuality and the Church" for his sabbatical, and was anyone interested in helping? I'm not sure how emphatically I can say, "SIR THAT IS MY PASSION" but I emailed back my interest, however, what was the time commitment, etc. What I got back was an invitation to his house on Sunday where the team would get together to discuss details and also cookout and don't forget to bring your swimsuit! What? No! Swimming at my professor's house? That is utterly terrifying, but I said yes, because while ambition is a foreign concept to me, I realize networking is like, a pretty good idea.
And finally, practicum I! Dr. Dickens is the best, because as an introvert, he knows springing surprises is the worst for our little terrified brains, so he told us we wouldn't be getting into the Ring of Fire to practice counseling until the third week of classes. Which was this week! "It's kiddie pool stuff," he said. "I'll be the client, and I promise, even if you trip and fall, the water is so shallow you can't drown." "What if we fall on our faces?" someone asked. "I'll turn you over," he promised.
I was antsy to get this over with, because during the first class, Dr. Dickens said, "It will be hard to be the client, but we're all screwed up and that's not going to surprise anyone. It will be infinitely harder to be the counselor. You've invested a lot of money in this program, and this is something you're pretty passionate about, pretty sure you want to do for the rest of your life. What if you stink at it?" Yes yes, so the best way out is through, and I was going to volunteer to go first, but the other antsy kid beat me to it. Thank goodness, because he sat down and Dr. Dickens said, "What do you want to know about me?" and the poor guy just sat there wide-eyed for fifteen seconds of silence. All this studying how to be empathetic and model emotions, and NO ONE EVER TOLD US HOW TO START A CONVERSATION. Terrifying.
Ten minutes later, I jumped at the chance to tag team, and yes, utter terror. "What strengths to you do--do you bring to the, ahem, counseling staff?" I continued, horrified at my inability to speak English. But then he was off, and the conversation turned interesting, and the more I focused on him the less I thought about the twelve students staring at us. I think I looked empathetic, and I enjoyed learning about him, and I realized that counseling is HARD, because people don't say what you expect them to say, so you've got to be mentally agile and constantly map out where you want the conversation to go, but no, okay, maybe we'll go there instead. After my time was up, he gave me a high five, which was either pity or encouragement, and I'll take them both.
LOOK AT ME. Bossin' it up, being all sure I'll do that, and oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to be her sponsor while she goes through Steps, and WHAT. I'm like, all doing stuff I've been talking about, but only talking, and now I'm doing. It's crazy. Three weeks. Suddenly I'm a leader and proactive and passionate, and it feels like I've got my mojo back.
The thing about this semester, I think, is that I'm finally taking charge. In my introversion studies, I learned that introverts can be just as a) outgoing and b) assertive as anyone, only they need to feel a) safe and b) comfortable in order to do so. Can I get an amen? Apparently after a year in a new city studying a new subject with new friends, I feel safe and comfortable!
On the social side, I'm a bit flabbergasted, because when did I accumulate so many friends? It's lovely, but a little unwieldy, because whereas before I had a friend in this class and a friend in that class, now we are all together and it's hard to juggle them all. But lovely, too, because obviously. Twice a week I'm at school throughout lunch, and my normal habit is to eat on the stone patio behind the library where nobody goes, then hang out in the library proper and get some schoolwork done before my next class. But I keep being thwarted by people who assume I want to be social! This pisses me off momentarily, because I need to regroup and recharge, but it's nice to catch up with people.
On the academic side, I am killing it. Over the summer I fully owned the fact that I do in fact want to study counseling, and landed solidly on the fact that this is a career I want to devote the next however-many years of my life to mastering. What a difference (plus, see above, comfort, safety).
My angelology class has a group presentation (isn't seminary where we avoid contact with other students, gross, eurgh, yuck) and I was feeling assertive the day we gathered, so I volunteered to be the chairperson. It is so fun! Although last night I realized the danger of leading a bunch of people studying to be leaders, because a guy emailed me a list of extremely detailed notes which "might be useful" to me in leading our meeting today. Back up off me, boy! Really, he was a man in his 40s, and when we met and I incorporated some of his ideas, but not all of them, everyone meshed really well and anyway, I'm just saying I'm really enjoying being the chairperson.
Dr. Barnes emailed the MABC students saying he is researching "Individual Sexuality and the Church" for his sabbatical, and was anyone interested in helping? I'm not sure how emphatically I can say, "SIR THAT IS MY PASSION" but I emailed back my interest, however, what was the time commitment, etc. What I got back was an invitation to his house on Sunday where the team would get together to discuss details and also cookout and don't forget to bring your swimsuit! What? No! Swimming at my professor's house? That is utterly terrifying, but I said yes, because while ambition is a foreign concept to me, I realize networking is like, a pretty good idea.
And finally, practicum I! Dr. Dickens is the best, because as an introvert, he knows springing surprises is the worst for our little terrified brains, so he told us we wouldn't be getting into the Ring of Fire to practice counseling until the third week of classes. Which was this week! "It's kiddie pool stuff," he said. "I'll be the client, and I promise, even if you trip and fall, the water is so shallow you can't drown." "What if we fall on our faces?" someone asked. "I'll turn you over," he promised.
I was antsy to get this over with, because during the first class, Dr. Dickens said, "It will be hard to be the client, but we're all screwed up and that's not going to surprise anyone. It will be infinitely harder to be the counselor. You've invested a lot of money in this program, and this is something you're pretty passionate about, pretty sure you want to do for the rest of your life. What if you stink at it?" Yes yes, so the best way out is through, and I was going to volunteer to go first, but the other antsy kid beat me to it. Thank goodness, because he sat down and Dr. Dickens said, "What do you want to know about me?" and the poor guy just sat there wide-eyed for fifteen seconds of silence. All this studying how to be empathetic and model emotions, and NO ONE EVER TOLD US HOW TO START A CONVERSATION. Terrifying.
Ten minutes later, I jumped at the chance to tag team, and yes, utter terror. "What strengths to you do--do you bring to the, ahem, counseling staff?" I continued, horrified at my inability to speak English. But then he was off, and the conversation turned interesting, and the more I focused on him the less I thought about the twelve students staring at us. I think I looked empathetic, and I enjoyed learning about him, and I realized that counseling is HARD, because people don't say what you expect them to say, so you've got to be mentally agile and constantly map out where you want the conversation to go, but no, okay, maybe we'll go there instead. After my time was up, he gave me a high five, which was either pity or encouragement, and I'll take them both.
LOOK AT ME. Bossin' it up, being all sure I'll do that, and oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to be her sponsor while she goes through Steps, and WHAT. I'm like, all doing stuff I've been talking about, but only talking, and now I'm doing. It's crazy. Three weeks. Suddenly I'm a leader and proactive and passionate, and it feels like I've got my mojo back.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Having a Cat
Rory has been here for two weeks, and I've yet to talk about it! Sad. Here's the deal about owning a cat:
1) My cleaning-that-can-wait tendencies are being stretched to the limit. I've got a little cat nook in my room, which means litter, food, and water frequently escape their boundaries because Rory likes to fling things around. I usually try to ignore it as long as possible, which is, I'm told, gross.
2) The paranoia! I live upstairs, and there's a ledge along the hallway from which you can overlook the wooden staircase. Halfway along the stairs, up high, is a window. One day I walked upstairs and saw that Rory had jumped from the ledge to the window. When he saw me, he meowed piteously and moved foreward and backward, sometimes leaning toward jumping, sometimes a paw slipping. I stood underneath on the stairs but couldn't reach him. I leaned over the ledge toward the window but couldn't reach him. I beckoned him to jump, then ran to my room to hide my face because what if he didn't make it and then he splattered on the stairs ten feet below him? FINALLY he jumped, and I thought, thank God, now he's learned his lesson and we'll never have to suffer through that heart attack again.
Five minutes later he jumped up there AGAIN. Well, that was it, because even if it didn't bother him, it bothered me. I locked him in my room and looked up ways to keep him from perching there. Aluminum foil, apparently, but we didn't have any, and it took two days for me to buy any. Eventually I covered the ledge with the stuff and tentatively allowed Rory to experience life outside of my bedroom. I went downstairs, and soon I heard him jump up, heard the crinkle of the foil, heard him jump down and race to my room.
He hasn't jumped up there since. But also, now the ledge overlooking our staircase is covered in aluminum foil.
3) He is one of three person-centered cats, and since I am home more than anyone, they all flock to my room. I assumed this would be adorable, but since Rory is not entirely comfortable with either of them (more so Nash than Billie), it mostly means listening to cats hiss or dart around me. Occasionally they will all be tired at the same time, at which point it is adorable, but most of the time I just kick out the other cats and ignore their whining at the door.
4) I'm a user; I admit it. I wanted Rory for his cuddles. And he is so good at them. Evening is when he is more playful and crazy, but as soon as I turn off all of the lights, he curls against my legs and goes to sleep. Sometimes he crawls up to lay on my chest and purr in my face, which is my favorite. Sometimes he curls up by my neck and I bury my face in his fluffy fur. It's incredibly adorable.
5) Rory is stupid smart. In the mornings, he likes to lick my face. Which, if you are familiar with cat tongues, is not exactly comfortable. I saw online that it's a thing cats do if they really like you, if they think you are their cat friend who needs grooming. But still, it hurts. So whenever he starts licking my face, I push him away. But now he knows that if he licks my face, my hands will come out from under the covers and he can turn my pushing into petting.
I have yet to solve this puzzle. Beaten by a cat, how embarrassing.
1) My cleaning-that-can-wait tendencies are being stretched to the limit. I've got a little cat nook in my room, which means litter, food, and water frequently escape their boundaries because Rory likes to fling things around. I usually try to ignore it as long as possible, which is, I'm told, gross.
2) The paranoia! I live upstairs, and there's a ledge along the hallway from which you can overlook the wooden staircase. Halfway along the stairs, up high, is a window. One day I walked upstairs and saw that Rory had jumped from the ledge to the window. When he saw me, he meowed piteously and moved foreward and backward, sometimes leaning toward jumping, sometimes a paw slipping. I stood underneath on the stairs but couldn't reach him. I leaned over the ledge toward the window but couldn't reach him. I beckoned him to jump, then ran to my room to hide my face because what if he didn't make it and then he splattered on the stairs ten feet below him? FINALLY he jumped, and I thought, thank God, now he's learned his lesson and we'll never have to suffer through that heart attack again.
Five minutes later he jumped up there AGAIN. Well, that was it, because even if it didn't bother him, it bothered me. I locked him in my room and looked up ways to keep him from perching there. Aluminum foil, apparently, but we didn't have any, and it took two days for me to buy any. Eventually I covered the ledge with the stuff and tentatively allowed Rory to experience life outside of my bedroom. I went downstairs, and soon I heard him jump up, heard the crinkle of the foil, heard him jump down and race to my room.
He hasn't jumped up there since. But also, now the ledge overlooking our staircase is covered in aluminum foil.
3) He is one of three person-centered cats, and since I am home more than anyone, they all flock to my room. I assumed this would be adorable, but since Rory is not entirely comfortable with either of them (more so Nash than Billie), it mostly means listening to cats hiss or dart around me. Occasionally they will all be tired at the same time, at which point it is adorable, but most of the time I just kick out the other cats and ignore their whining at the door.
4) I'm a user; I admit it. I wanted Rory for his cuddles. And he is so good at them. Evening is when he is more playful and crazy, but as soon as I turn off all of the lights, he curls against my legs and goes to sleep. Sometimes he crawls up to lay on my chest and purr in my face, which is my favorite. Sometimes he curls up by my neck and I bury my face in his fluffy fur. It's incredibly adorable.
5) Rory is stupid smart. In the mornings, he likes to lick my face. Which, if you are familiar with cat tongues, is not exactly comfortable. I saw online that it's a thing cats do if they really like you, if they think you are their cat friend who needs grooming. But still, it hurts. So whenever he starts licking my face, I push him away. But now he knows that if he licks my face, my hands will come out from under the covers and he can turn my pushing into petting.
I have yet to solve this puzzle. Beaten by a cat, how embarrassing.
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