Recently. And tomorrow.

When we last met each other in this forum, I posted a quote about truth-seeking from Terri Jentz's *fabulous* book, Strange Piece of Paradise, the introduction to which came from my schoolmate and friend, True Tomato. I cannot recommend this book enough, even at 700-something pages long.

Jentz and a classmate were brutally attacked by a guy who ran over their tent at a state park here in Oregon, then got out of his truck and hacked at both of them with an axe. For reasons one is left only to suspect, the state police dropped the ball, and no serious suspects were ever interrogated, even though much of the community in the area believed they knew who did it. Ten years later, Jentz returns to the scene of the crime and begins her own investigation. It's an amazing investigation she conducts.

I lay absolutely NO CLAIM to doing anything similar with my fine self. But a single comment she made about truth-seeking restoring "something vital in my core" really spoke to me.

I am not sure why. Not exactly. But I have a good idea. (And I'll get into it further at a later date.)

In any case, the last several weeks of my life seem to have had truth-seeking as a theme. But rather than looking for some culprit in the crimes that have occasionally been part of my life, I have been looking inward -- and have had a lot of external assistance with that.

Self-examination is -- or rather, should be -- part and parcel to getting a graduate degree in counseling psychology. I say "should be" because I have observed extreme reluctance on the parts of some of my schoolmates to do this work, and others have said things that make it clear they don't understand why one might need to do that in this line of work. Both types drive me a little crazy because I think they are being irresponsible.

Although I also lay no claim to being fully self-aware (hardly!) nor so proficient in self-examination as to think I do it better than others, I feel certain that most of the people who know me well would tell you that I do engage in self-examination as a matter of course in my daily life. One schoolmate said I have a "fearless inward-looking eye." It's a kind way of saying, perhaps, that I sometimes engage in indulgent navel-gazing -- and that I tell others what I find there. (Look at this blog for examples.)

However, I think those who know me best realize that, over the past few weeks, I have been engaged in an entirely new sport: X-treme Self-Examination.

That absurd evaluation I got from my practicum instructors -- and, yes, it *is* absurd in most respects -- prompted some serious reflection on my part, which included numerous conversations with friends, colleagues, family members and the occasional service provider about how they perceive me and what they think those pesky instructors might have been set off by in the person of your dear UCM.

It started off innocently enough. I asked my peers in the practicum whether I had, in fact, created an unsafe environment in the classroom. Uniformly, they told me "NO" and shared their thoughts on what was going on in the class that may have upset the instructors. My provocative questions and direct commentary were part of it, but that does not equal a lack of respect for the "fundamental rights, dignity and worth of all people," a blight from which my evaluation suggested I suffer.

So then, I started poking and poking and poking at my close friends to give me some insight. I asked S2 and HGM. I also asked XGF. Where was this coming from? What is it about me that may have prompted this acrimony in my instructors?

Unsatisfied with the responses -- which basically were "You're fine; those instructors are the problem" from S2 and HGM and "Well...." from the XGF -- I expanded my reach and my questioning. For a week or two, just about anyone who crossed my path -- minus the baristas, deli owners and gas station attendants -- was subjected to my questions.

One night at dinner with The Clairvoyant and The One, The One told me, "Face it, UCM, you're HOT! You have a beautiful mind, and a lot people want a piece of that. But to others, it's scary because *they* are insecure around someone like you." (Nice piece of work, that man. We are a mutual masturbation society, he and I. He has several pieces in a gallery opening this weekend, and I can't wait to see them.)

But I digress.

The point is: Be careful what you ask for.

When Truman Capote died, he was working on a novel called "Answered Prayers," or something like that. The idea behind the piece was about the misery that befalls people when they actually get what they want.

This is kind of what happened to me.

Somewhere, insidiously, the feedback really started to pile up. Eventually, people who I never even ASKED started telling me what how they perceive me or simply started explaining me to myself. It came in every form you can imagine: bare-bones statements (as if it wasn't perception but fact), gentle questioning, reflective listening that had "summaries of meaning" which were NOT part of what I said, Tarot cards, astrology, empirical research about social psychology.

It went on and on and on. ... And on.

I met with the faculty member who is the practicum coordinator on Wednesday last week, and she shared some of her own perceptions of me. She's someone I respect immensely, someone who I think would be a fabulous mentor. So when she placed my "sensitivity" at a 9 or a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10, I was the very illustration of rapt curiosity. She said such "sensitivity" is gift, not a negative trait -- and then shared her concept about how I protect myself in certain situations because of that acute feeling (and, as S2 noted, the "vulnerability" inherent in it).

It was my professor's comments that finally started bringing into focus for me the strange, conflicted picture painted by all these other sources of feedback.

And yet, there was still more feedback to come on Thursday -- some unsolicited from a friendly schoolmate and some I asked of my most trusted friend, S2.

For whatever reason, it was this final bit -- including a kind and loving e-mail from S2 in which she said there's nothing wrong with me -- that was the proverbial straw on the camel's back. This mountain of feedback from so many sources was, in the end, just way too fucking much to take in, to sort through, process and make sense of. In short, it was maddening.

For a few days, I withdrew from everyone. If someone called, I might answer. But my normally outgoing self made no outgoing calls, sought no conversations, wrote not a single goddamned word. I have an immense tolerance for contact with people. I need contact. I derive my energy in a great part from social interactions. At times when I get depressed or anxious, I usually reach out to friends.

It is a rare, rare thing for me to retract into my shell. But that's where I've been. I went to the movies -- the latest Harry Potter -- and I watched women's tennis at the U.S. Open on television. I walked my dog vigorously. And I slept a WHOLE LOT. This shit had totally overwhelmed and exhausted me, and I needed to recoup in a way that did not involve those I love or even those I like. I just needed to be left alone for a few days.

In truth, I could have probably used a couple more days of it. But I woke up this morning and realized S2 might think I was sick or dead if I didn't contact her today, so I did. Then True Tomato called and left the most amusing and sweetly passionate voice mail about what is wrong with other people, rather than what is wrong with me. So I called and chatted with her for a while. And then HGM called about coming over to pick up something and getting lunch, so we did that together.

I suppose I needed to rejoin the living today anyway.

That's because tomorrow (Tuesday), I start my internship. Yep. I'm about to become a therapist for real. (Truth is, I was already one in my practicum, but this is going to be a little different -- more clients and more serious one-on-one supervision, without having a fucking camera trained on me every session.)

It's time for your UCM to sink or swim. Good thing I come by floating so naturally.

Good thing, too, that I'll be one of those therapists who's willing to look at herself. Not only is it necessary for my personal growth as a human, it something I believe I owe to those who will be my clients. If I can't stand the scrutiny, how dare I ask others to undertake such work?

But you know what? No one should have to take it all at once from all quarters. It certainly creates a picture. But so much of it all at once is like standing too close to a Seurat. So many points -- so many fine and good points -- viewed so closely don't make that much sense.

Let's see what comes into view when I take a few steps back.