Supervision

It's so great having a counseling supervisor who knows my flaws and gently makes fun of them.  It's great because it means 1) I don't have to hide my flaws, and 2) Acknowledging them is the first step to healing.  When I find myself in a relationship like this, I'm tempted to create a Facebook status that says something like, "I love when people make fun of my flaws!" but inevitably some rando will "jokingly" insult me, and I am reduced to frowning at my screen because someone didn't understand.  The difference is that I have to feel safe with the person who is insulting me.

Supervisor makes me feel safe because he says things like, "I can counsel a pedophile, but ask me to answer the receptionist's phone, and I'll run screaming in the other direction," and "The majority of your married clients will be here because the husband cheated--ugh, men."  (And before any reader who is overly invested in my love life starts arching their eyebrows, Supervisor is married.  I like to envision our relationship as wise-cracking buddy cop counselors.  Please view all these stories through that lens.)

Next week Supervisor is going to make Other Intern and I do a two-hour art therapy session.  I say "make" even though I suppose I could technically refuse. Today he said,

Supervisor:  Good work today.  And next week you can take another step!
Me:  Ugh.  Another step?
Supervisor:  You get to express emotions!
Me:  ....Gross.
Supervisor:  But it's your favorite thing!

Which is funny, because three weeks ago I was feeling a lot of emotion in supervision, and it was so embarrassing.  I finished up with my clients and burst into Supervisor's office.

Me:  Am I allowed to be mad at a client??
Supervisor:  Um, I think you are mad at a client.
Me:  No!  Well, yes, but I mean to their face.  Can I yell at someone in session?
Supervisor:  Oh.  No.  You shouldn't do that.
Me:  Well...can I have a Bullshit Button?  I know other sites have those.  Can I just obnoxiously press it every time he lies?
Supervisor:  You know, I had one, but I think I threw it away.  I think you'll just have to learn to empathize with him.
Me:  UGH, NO.

Thus began a half hour conversation about why this guy had made me so furious, by the middle of which I had substantially raised my voice, was sitting on the edge of the couch, gesticulating wildly, heaving deep angry breaths.  Suddenly I noticed Other Intern looking (nervously?) at me out of the corner of his eye.  Oh, no.  I had become carried away with emotion!  I clutched at my head and said, "Ugh, I am so angry I can't think properly."  Suddenly I had a mental image of me, a female wearing a dress, clutching her head while two men watched her emotional breakdown.  I sat up straight and mentally freaked the hell out.  I do not want to be that person.

The person who feels emotions.

So art therapy next week will be really interesting.  I tell that story in horror, but I'm also super proud of myself.  There are a lot of things I wish Therapist could have helped me learn, but I am really pleased that together we unlocked my anger.  For the first twenty-four years of my life I thought I was somehow immune to anger.  Turns out I just bottled it all up and let it flow inward, feeding my depression and self-hate.  It was actually a huge accomplishment for me to let myself get so angry in front of two co-workers.

It is such a joy to work somewhere that allows me to be my worst and, in fact, celebrates my honesty in letting it out.  Especially since I'm not so much working as learning a trade, and I can't imagine a safer environment for me to struggle and triumph and fail without worrying about anyone else's opinion.  I could not ask for a better place to work than one where I am greeted with,

Supervisor:  Are you moving?  Because I had a dream last night that you were and you needed my help to move your collection of shopping carts.  You had one from Korea and one from Japan, and we were, like, pushing them down the freeway.
Me:  Well.  I'm not moving, but I do have a collection of shopping carts.

SEE.  Wise-cracking buddy cop counselors.  It's totally a thing.