Wednesday, July 21, 2021

That "new car" smell

 You know that experience where you go to a car dealership and they have a nice model in the showroom, and you open the door and sit in the driver's seat? You remember that smell? That new car smell? 

I remember it. It makes me want to drive the car. It's new vinyl, new leather (if you're that rich), clean air conditioning vents, no dust, no smudges, clear windshield ... and the list goes on.

Now, translate that into the experience of a person who is almost at the end of her Masters degree, itching to get out in the world and help people. 

That's me.

Yesterday, as an example of my impatience, I went to see three different spaces that could serve as good offices for a counsellor. Well ... they LOOKED like good spaces. Two out of the three were pretty well duds. But one ... it showed promise. I told the lady that I couldn't  make a decision for at least a month. So if someone came in before she heard back to me, it wasn't fair to make her wait for me. "Go ahead and rent it to that person who gives you the first deposit," I told her. 

Free image by RitaE at Pixabay
Well, at least that scratched my "new car smell" itch. I get it once in a while, mostly when I am impatient or tired of waiting for the next thing to happen. God knows I have this tendency ... and so does my family. I had strict instructions from my daughter NOT to make up my mind that day, that this was just a dry run for the real thing.  

I am so glad I had that thought as I went looking. It took the pressure off. I was able to ask my questions, and hold a mild curiosity instead of an all-encompassing inner push to get it all done in one go. 

I guess I just needed to take my fact-finding skills out for a test drive. And what I found is that there are a number of offices out there that are unsuitable spaces, but you do find that odd gem. If it's still available next month, it would be really nice to practice there. 

However, I'm not in that position quite yet. I still have to finish my degree (2 more weeks and then another 2 until I get my marks!) and then, I will have to apply for  my CCC designation at the same time as I apply for my registration from the soon-to-be-opened College of Counselling Therapists in PEI. One step at a time. 

Part of me still wants to order business cards and such, but I know that I will need a business address and phone number before doing that. I guess that I will be opening sometime in October, not sure exactly when. I will put a rush on my application for my Canadian certified counsellor designation (CCC) so I can at least practice. And I have an action plan for when I receive that. 

It's all laid out, but I'm just waiting for someone in authority to press "Go" ... and at that point, I'll just have one thing to say: 

I'm Open! 

Sunday, May 2, 2021

On My Way

 I've been on this journey for a while now. And now, I'm one course away from finishing this program. I'm within sight of beginning a career in counselling. 

After I get my credentials from the soon-to-be-opened College of Counselling Therapists of PEI (CCT-PEI), I will be able to call myself a Counselling Therapist. Until then, I will be finishing my studies, applying to obtain my credentials, and searching for an appropriate office from where to provide services.

I feel as though I have started the last leg of my graduate studies journey, and at some point, that last leg becomes the first leg of my second career. 

I have no rose-coloured glasses here. I know it will be difficult. I know I will struggle at first. Most new business owners do. However, I have my training, I have a few people who want me to contact them in the fall of this year (after I get my credentials) and who will be happy to come and see me as paying clients. And I have word of mouth, which in this province is a powerful thing, for good or ... not. 

Plus, I also have the support of family, friends, colleagues, professors, and the most amazing supervisor. That means that if I have a question about anything to do with the counselling business OR about getting myself unstuck as a therapist, I have someone to mentor me. 

Thinking back to when I first started this blog, little did I know then where that journey would lead me. Random events converged to funnel me in to a decision that I initially made as a back-up plan in case I got fired. (At the time Stephen Harper was the prime minister and public servants were in his cross-hairs!) That back-up plan quickly became my ultimate goal, something I lined up for me to walk into after I retired. 

I retired near the end of September 2020, after the pandemic had ravaged the world and we were heading into the second wave. However, since the Emergency Measures Organization had identified counselling as an essential service, I was able to do my practicum at a local church (thanks to Grace Baptist and Pastor Jeff Eastwood and the elders' board!) for the past 7.5 months. The day after tomorrow, I will see my last client as a student.

It all seems so surreal to me. The idea that in six months, I will likely have my own practice and be seeing clients there ... boggles my mind. Six months! 

I have very little idea what lies ahead. The stepping stones of this journey lead to the other side, but what that shore will look like is a mystery to me. All I know is that this is what I was meant to do, what I was made to do. 

And I will relish every moment. Even if I get my feet wet. :D

 

Sunday, November 15, 2020

What's THAT feeling?

 I was sitting at breakfast with hubby yesterday morning. We had been talking about everything and nothing, one of my favorite times of the day. The dog was laying at our feet, chewing on a bully stick. And I noticed it ... inside of me. 

What's that feeling? I thought. It's ... different.

I tuned into my emotions and it was then that I realized what it was. As I did, my eyes opened wide ... and I turned to my husband. "I'm ... happy," I said.

He blinked slowly. "You're what?" he queried. 

"Happy." I smiled gently, gently placed my elbows on the table, and cupped my chin in my hands.

"Wow," he responded, eyes wide. "It's been a long time since I heard you say that." 

"I know." My attention turned inward, and I held the feeling close to me like one would hold a little bird: gently, lovingly. I was silent for several seconds. An indulgent smile crept onto my face.

"It's all this," he said, gesturing to my tote bag where I carried my clipboard and my appointment book back and forth to my counselling office. "Isn't it."

I nodded. 

"I am so happy for you," he said, softly. "And I am so proud of you." He took a sip of coffee, and looked me in the eye again. "You were made for this. You've found your niche." 

I smiled and nodded as my eyes stung with tears. "It feels so good.  And I'm learning so much!" My mind drifted to all the neat things I was learning from my experiences as a counsellor, from my clients, and from my supervisor. I shook my head slowly in amazement. 

Happiness. Who knew?

I remember one day, after the umpteenth time in three years when this one person asked me how I was and I responded, "Okay," she said to me that one of these days she was hoping that I would be able to answer by saying "Great!" 

Well, I guess she got her wish. It took a while, though. 

This feeling - this happiness - is reason enough to stay in the moment to enjoy it. I like it. It's good.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

SSS-KSS-KSS-KSS-KSS

No, it's not a typo.

The title that I chose today is the sound my little dog's nails and feet make on the floor when he races around the house doing what little dogs do when they are excited (or just before bed): "the zoomies."

We had a snow last night. As always happens in the morning when the dog wakes up, he wants to go out. So I put his harness and leash on, and carried him out the back door onto the deck, and put him on the deck for him to choose a place to do his business. But as soon as he had emptied his little bladder, he put his nose into the white stuff on the deck, and jerked away. COLD! And then his nose melted it. He cocked his head. "Wuff," he whispered. He put his nose on the white stuff again. Cold! He pulled his head back and peered at this strange substance.

 

Bullet, September 2020
 

All of a sudden, the lightbulb came on over his head. He started doing the zoomies right there on the deck! SSSS-KSS-KSS-KSS went the little feet as he turned tight corners and slid around ... over and over again! Mouth open, tongue lolling, snapping at the flakes he was raising, he was the picture of pure doggy joy as he lived each and every nanosecond in the moment. 

It made me laugh out loud! Literally! Even when he left snow crystals on my Crocs (and melting into my bare feet inside of them) I couldn't help surfing on the waves of joyful puppyness that emanated from him. 

No fear. Pure joy that comes from confidence - which comes from knowing he is loved. I am slowly learning that I am loved unconditionally, and that gives me confidence ... and joy. My heart skipped and skidded around with Bullet on that deck. Though I hate the cold, somehow it didn't matter to me, and I laughed -- no, giggled -- like a child at play.

It feels good.  SSSSS-KSS-KSS-KSS-KSS-KSS-KSS.....

Sunday, September 27, 2020

Releasing

Since I last posted, I put a notice in a local Facebook group and within 48 hours I had 25 clients lined up to see me. Today, I have 31. 

I've been seeing some of these folks the last week and a half. At times I feel like a green rookie; at other times I feel confident and calm. But always I strive to be present for my clients. And if I could pick a theme for the last ten days, it would be Releasing.

There is such freedom in realizing that I am not put on this earth to save the world, to rescue the people that I care about, or to protect people from the consequences of their own choices. When I release the weight of all of those duties (which don't belong to me) and decide to show up for my own life, when I decide to simply be present for people who ask me for help, and to let go of the burden of taking responsibility for other people's outcomes, I experience peace, and I can sleep at night. 

It sounds selfish to put it that way. However, by releasing my grip on things that are not mine to fix, I gain the energy that I need to look after my own needs, and then reach out to help someone else look after their needs.  I remember saying to someone this week that it's like what the flight attendants say in their safety presentation about when the oxygen masks fall from the ceiling of the cabin. They instruct us to put on our own masks first, before helping someone else put theirs on. The reason for this is simple: you can't help someone else unless you have what you need to stay safe - otherwise you'll pass out and both people are in trouble. 

Free pic from www.pexels.com
I've been cultivating this lifestyle of letting go or releasing since I first became aware that the opposite was happening in my life, and that it was driving the people I cared about further and further away from me. I held onto the people in my life with a tight-fisted grip that didn't allow them to feel free or comfortable around me.  When I stopped trying to rescue them, and when I let go of the reins of control over their thoughts and behaviors, I gained a new sense of freedom, and that releasing saved those relationships.  In essence, I allowed them to be who they were instead of trying to make them into copies of me. Rather than feel threatened by their differences from me, I began to celebrate those differences and be grateful for the opportunity to grow as I got to know them better. 

It's an endless journey. I can't say that I have arrived, but I'm better than I was then, and I expect to continue to grow and to show up in my own life, so that I can be there for others.  I'm committed to this process of growth in my own life, and I hope to be able to convey to others how it has changed me for the better, and continues to change me into who I am becoming.  

Sunday, September 13, 2020

Annnd GO!

 I'm less than 38 hours away from my orientation at my practicum site. Normally I would write this on my student counselling blog, but I wanted to reflect on my feelings as I start to turn this corner into a second career as a counsellor.

I've done similar work to counselling before: six years as a La Leche League leader (breastfeeding support via telephone and in monthly group meetings), six months as a mentor to an at-risk single mom, and of course face-to-face practice counselling of my classmates in my grad program. 

But real-world, real-time clients? I would be an idiot if I were to not feel some trepidation. And I do!  

I have the feeling that once I get into seeing clients, things will come together. I have the training, I have the practice, and I know how to use the theories effectively. I just need to calm my jitters and take one client, one day, sometimes even one moment, at a time, and things will all come together.

Photo from http://www.pixabay.com

I do know that I feel a strong sense of gratitude for all that I have been given, not the least of which is my family and their support and encouragement. The same goes for my close friends, my work colleagues, my former and current classmates, my profs, my supervisor, and my on-site mentor. I have been (and am) thoroughly blessed by my higher power. 

The reality is that I don't have any clients booked yet. Other than times booked to observe my supervisor, my appointment book is empty. I'm trying not to panic, and I've been getting the word out, but it's hard not to worry that I won't be able to get the number of clients I need to satisfy my university's expectations for the first couple of months of my practicum. So here's where the rubber meets the road. Do I trust God? Do I trust myself? Where are all these people who keep complaining that there aren't enough counsellors in my province and they have to wait for months to see one? At what point do I ask for help? 

My emotions are in a bit of a jumble, as you can imagine. I am both confident and unsure, excited and terrified, happy and nervous, hopeful and discouraged. I believe I have done all I can, but I wonder if it's enough. 

Time will tell. 

I truly hope that three months from now, I will be able to be confident with no question marks in the back of my mind. 

So, here goes!

Saturday, August 15, 2020

Face-plant

I fell down yesterday. 

It was totally avoidable. I wasn't watching where I was stepping. And I landed face first in the dirt with a skinned knee, a bruised elbow, and a bump on my right cheekbone. 

The reasons for my fall (I could call them excuses) were that someone left the garden hose in a high-traffic area, I was distracted by trying to focus on the dog who was anxious to make his way to the yard to do his business, and the path was fairly narrow. However, I could have avoided the situation if I had just been more careful about where I placed my feet. So, I take full responsibility for my error. 

The end result was that I was flat on my stomach with my face in the dirt, pebbles and grass, about 2 feet from an outdoor garbage can, and I felt helpless to right myself. 

The dog did his best to help. Unfortunately, his version of helping was prancing around my head and licking my face until I could hardly breathe. 

No help there.

I'd been in that position for about 2 minutes (it felt like longer) when I heard the door open and someone step out onto the deck above me. He told me later that he didn't even know I was down there until he moved closer to the railing and saw my white Crocs upside down on the pavement (my feet still in them.) Then he saw my legs and oh-my-gosh-are-you-all-right? he was there in no time flat. "Can you get up?" he asked. "I think so," I stammered, "but the dog wants to help me and I don't want to hurt him ..." 

He laughed, "I can see that," and picked up the leash. He held the dog back while I got to my hands and knees and then got my feet under me and stood up. He offered his arm to lean on as I pulled myself to my feet.

Without his help, I would not have been able to get out of my predicament. So I was (and am) extremely grateful for him coming to my aid.  I made sure to thank him sincerely. After that, we started joking around about it. Laughing privately after the fact helped me not feel so embarrassed.

Sometimes, whether by their own fault or not, people need help and not judgment or criticism. That was one instance.

My would-be hero. NOT!   ;)
When someone makes a mistake and needs help to get out of a jam, it could be very easy to ridicule or find fault. "You should not have done that" can be reserved for after the crisis ... or not said at all, how about that? My benefactor was more interested in whether I was hurt than whose fault it was that I fell. I like that. It confirmed to me the fact that he cares about me. When an examination revealed that my glasses were also bent in the fall, he drove me to the optician's office to get them fixed (which they did, thank you very much!) 

So in spite of the aches and pains I had later in the day, and in spite of the embarrassment of the fall, and the vulnerability, and the silly behavior of the dog, and the extra trip to town, I could look back on the day and call it a good one. Why? because in spite of it all, I knew I was loved, cared for, and appreciated.  I was not angry at the dog for preventing me from getting up or for distracting me. I was determined not to let my attention wander like that again, and grateful that I didn't sprain my ankle, and that's it. 

That's all. A fast fall on the hard-packed, dusty ground, a bit of road rash on one knee, and the helping hand of my best friend. What could be more simple than that?  

Perhaps the next time I see someone in a helpless position, whether by accident or not, I will not be so quick to judge, and quicker to just lend a hand. 

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Quiet

It's quiet in the house. The dog is sleeping, and the only sound is the faint whirring of fans as they cool the room, our computers, and occasionally, the fridge. Plus the sound of my typing. And of course my ever-present tinnitus.

When it's quiet, sometimes my thoughts race as I wonder or even worry about what is to come. Sometimes I do something to fill the void: write a grocery list, play music, anything but be silent in my own thoughts. Other times, though, like this time, I tune into what I'm thinking about and set it aside in favor of experiencing this moment, this one fleeting experience, and enjoying it. I feel the rhythm of my breathing, and I remain present in that rhythm, being grateful for the breath of life. I see patches of sunshine come in their brilliance, and pass behind clouds, hiding the sun's rays in a cloak of water droplets. I marvel at how everything seems so still when the Earth is actually hurtling through space at thousands of miles per hour; it is a miracle that we do not fly off the face of the planet. I tune into my spirit and notice that today, it is content. I am grateful for that contentment.

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Clouds"
by Sura Nualpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Sometimes my husband will comment on something that he has seen or learned, and we discuss it. Time with him, when he is truly present (like now) brings such peace and joy to me. I enjoy his company, which, although it sounds trite, rarely has need for words, but we talk anyway.

I hear the footfalls of my daughter as she awakens to another day. I wonder if she will be in more or in less pain than she was yesterday. She is never totally without it. Once, that realization troubled me deeply, because I had an unhealthy need to fix it; now, I am amazed and inspired by her courage and tenacity. She has taught me about so many things just by living them in her life: acceptance, tolerance, maturity, friendship, and more. I am grateful for her quiet, indomitable and yet vulnerable spirit.

I think about my friends. I am amazed by their patience with me as I have been so busy juggling career and school that I have rarely had enough (sometimes not any) time to spend with them as I would like. I know they support me in my chosen path - which means a great deal to me - and I hope to have a bit more time to spend with them as my work life comes to a close and I can concentrate more on school without that added burden of making a living. I have missed our times of fellowship together. With COVID-19 restricting our movements the last few months, I have become acutely aware of the effects of prolonged isolation even on a confirmed introvert like me. How awful it must be for those who need social contact to feel complete! They must feel like they are running on empty all the time! It firms my resolve to reconnect with my friends, one at a time, even though the chief health officer has deemed that it must be at a distance... so no hugging. 😞

The puppy has awakened now, and is letting us know there is a delivery person at a neighbour's house. The silence is broken, but I am left with a sense of calm and peace that remains with me.

I like that feeling.


Saturday, June 6, 2020

Being Colorblind

I used to say it. I used to think it. I never EVER ONCE, in all my growing-up years and even into adulthood, considered that I might be part of a mindset that unknowingly promotes racism. But I was. And I said it, and thought it.

What did I say? I said that I was colorblind. I said that I didn't see color.

But of course I did. I'd have to be blind not to see color. And what I thought and said about NOT seeing it only further alienated me from the very people I thought I was allying myself with. Because guess what... THEY see it. They see it when they get up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror. They see it when they try to wait for a bus, reflected in the eyes of those who notice them standing there. They see it when they are outside taking a walk and decide to stand in a building's overhang and wait for a friend to come out.

And for me to say that I don't see color ... discounts and dismisses their experience of the world. It makes them invisible, and let's face it - everyone wants to be seen, to be acknowledged for their existence. The color of their skin is just as much a part of them as having fingers and toes. And their skin color dictates how the world treats them, what kinds of choices they make about everyday things, how they feel about their society, and how they interact with people who are outside of their circle. It is like an insult to them when I say I don't see color.

Photo courtesy of
Alec White at Pixabay

I have learned instead to say, "I see you." I have learned to say, "Teach me about your experience of your culture." I have learned to honestly ask people what it is like to BE them. I have learned to honor the existence and the history of those who are different from me, and to be curious about it, and to celebrate what is different and unique about each individual. I have learned not to assume that just because a person has a particular skin color, that all people who have that skin color feel this or that way, or think this or that way, or act this or that way. They don't. They don't in the same way that not all white people have similar beliefs or lifestyles or political leanings. It does a disservice to everyone to pigeon-hole people based on anything they might hold in common.

While it is true that we all bleed red, that we are all the same underneath, that every life matters, the reality of our society is that people of color are treated and viewed by so many in society as less-than. The reality is that racism is rampant and it runs amok in our world. The fact of the matter is that white people, like myself, have a societal privilege in our western culture that people of color do not. And it is for this reason that I join with thousands and millions of others in saying, "Black Lives Matter."  I don't say "All Lives Matter" because that silences those whose lives don't matter in today's society.

I saw an illustration of equality versus equity a few years ago that has stuck with me. It is a three-part cartoon depicting three people: a tall person, an average-sized person, and a little person, who are trying to watch a ball game from behind a five-foot wall. In the first illustration, the tall person can easily see over the wall. The average person can see but just barely. And the little person cannot see at all. Then there were two illustrations under that one. The one on the left put an equal-sized box under each person. In this illustration, the little person could just barely see over the fence, and the taller ones had an even better view from equally higher-up. This one was labelled "Equality." On the right, in the illustration labelled "Equity," the tall person who did not need a box, was not given one. The average-sized person was given a box tall enough so that he could reach the same height as the tall person, and the little person was also given an even taller box so he could enjoy the game from the same height of the tall person. In this way, each of them could enjoy the game to the same degree.

This is a wonderful illustration of why I believe that those in the dominant culture do not need to be stroked and given special consideration. They already have the privilege of seeing the world without assistance. Those who need help and recognition should get it to the degree that they have been disadvantaged. And the history of white culture has many, many examples of the oppression of other races, especially black people (and yes, this is documented!) throughout the history of our interactions with other people who don't look like us.

From the time I was a little girl of ten years old, when I met a black man for the first time, I have been intrigued by people of color. But what I didn't know then, and what I still didn't know even as recently as ten years ago, was how difficult it was (and is) for those who are not white. We don't even think about the same things as people of color when we think of everyday activities that most of us take for granted. Going for a walk in a quiet neighborhood after dark ... going into a store in broad daylight ... walking the dog ... driving a car with tinted windows ... paying for an item by check ... waiting in the park for a friend ... all of these things we take for granted and never once think that we might not make it home alive. But people of color, and especially black people, do. Every. Day.

If recent events have not highlighted these facts for you, then it might be time to honestly investigate how best to honor people who are targets of racism in your city, in your province or state, in your country. Look for stories told by the actual people themselves, and not by white people telling their story for them.

Listen. And say it with me. Black Lives Matter.
#BLM #ISeeYou

Tuesday, May 19, 2020

Getting by Letting

The other day the leash attached to our puppy Bullet's harness got wound around a table leg. In trying to free him, I let go of the handle of his leash and concentrated on untangling the knot at its source. Bullet grabbed the leash handle and hung on. Of course, this way, he was stuck and couldn't be released from his predicament. 

It was like he was in one of those tubular finger puzzle traps where the harder you pull against it, the tighter the tube grabs your finger. "If only you'd let go, you'd be instantly free!" I thought. But he was fixated on 'helping' to free himself. 

Image courtesy of pasja1000 at Pixabay.com
The lesson was not lost on me. Sometimes I get into predicaments and I figure I have to free myself (since I was the one who got into the mess in the first place). 

But all I really needed to do was let go.  Let it go, as in quit obsessing, stop trying to make it better, stop trying to explain the reasons why, release the grudge, forgive, accept things, places, and people the way they are, and I'll be free. 

Not free of the leash. Not free of the relationships and linkages in my life. But free of being bound by my own efforts to free myself, to MAKE things happen. 

Free to enJOY the relationships. Free to make mistakes. Free to admit I was wrong. Free to love more unconditionally. Free to let go of the past. Free to embrace the present. Free to look forward to the future without dread. 

Let go of the handle I think I have on things. Give the handling of the handle to the Handler. Quit striving (not in the sense of trying, but in the sense of hanging on to strife). Trust that things can work themselves out WITHOUT my input. That I can be helpless without being hopeless. That I can love without trying to change the opinions or the behaviors of others. That I can respect others' right to be who they are, and expect them to respect my right to be who I am.

Can I do that?

Yes. Yes I can.