I am this evening no longer a graduate student.
After turning in my internship paperwork last week, turning in my death & dying research paper yesterday and severing two final client relationships at the free clinic where I have been interning until today, there is not a single thing left that I must do for school but attend my graduation.
That will be 10 a.m. on June 1.
Until then, I am in this curious limbo where I'm working part-time and not sure if or when my hours will increase -- but if they do, it likely won't be until June. In my mind, that leaves me with the merry month of May to have some sweet time left for myself, a break between the pace of school and the start of what I hope will be full-time (or pretty close to it) work this summer.
Thus, I will be endeavoring to spend this time wisely and restfully, not to mention creatively and decadently.
In the meantime, I find myself wishing I had someone to celebrate this occasion with, someone who really understood what all this crazy shit was about for me. There are only a small handful of people who come to mind:
Top of the list being XGF who witnessed this idea I had several years ago about seriously, SERIOUSLY changing my life turn into something that was really going to do just that. As she's neck deep in graduate school in New Jersey these days, I have a feeling she can appreciate the idea of being done with it -- although it will be many years until she is done herself.
And I think about S2, who has been my diligent and fierce companion in school, and a massive friend outside of it. There is no single other student who has been such a "teacher" in my life. Lots of funky psychological stuff got worked out through our friendship, and yet we are still friends. Dear ones at that. Quite a lesson unto its own.
I also think about The Good Witch, who has been a friend and mentor to me for many years now and always tries to give me her old counseling journals and other books.
And, last but not least, I wish like hell that I could share this with my Tia L, who was always so encouraging of me and who, in telling me her about her work in a Third World insane asylum during the Peace Corps, taught me a thing or two about restoring dignity and humanity to people who are mentally ill. One of our last conversations, she told me, "You're going to help a lot of people," and she sounded so convinced that I believed she might be right. (Time will tell, Tia L!)
Anyway... So that's that. Three years have gone in a flash. And my life is seriously, SERIOUSLY different. It's a good life, and I feel lucky to have it right now.
Apparently, celebration with others must wait a month for graduation, so in the meantime ... I toast myself.
Way to go, UCM. Way to mutha-fuckin' GO!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
A tidbit
I once read some time ago -- and then was reminded again this evening -- of what Goethe's dying words reportedly were:
"More light."
That is so worthy of reflection, the work of which I will leave up to each of you individually, that I simply had to jot it here.
"More light." ... What do you suppose he meant by that?
"More light."
That is so worthy of reflection, the work of which I will leave up to each of you individually, that I simply had to jot it here.
"More light." ... What do you suppose he meant by that?
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A beautiful (and lively) way to say: So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye....
I didn't know S2's mom very well, but I met and talked with her on a few occasions. What I can say I know best about her is that she produced a woman, a daughter, as firey and fierce and fabulous as S2, which says more (to me) than any other equally simple sentence might capture.
Tonight, I attended her mom's farewell soiree, an evening party to bring together those who would celebrate her life even as they mourn her death back on December 27.
I can't imagine the pain of losing a beloved mother. In almost all respects, it is a pain I will never know. (When the Notorious M.O.M. kicks it, all I envision is the work of trying to release residual pain and anger about what I never had in life rather than what I lose through her death.)
But tonight, in S2's father's dramatic but cozy, wood-warmed house in the West Hills, I had the opportunity to see what kind of party a loving family throws for a woman who, if my sense of her is accurate and if the photos I saw fairly represent, was a spirited celebrant of life itself.
The slide show S2's dad assembled and ran on a loop on a TV down in the den showed her mother from the beginning of life up until her health began to decline several years ago. I only ever knew her in the last two years of her life, so it was a treat to see more. (Not to mention getting to see photos of particular events or activities from S2's childhood that she has told me stories about.) The photos tell a visual life story of a woman who was athletic, adventurous, quite the beauty (wow... some of those photos of her as a young woman!), an active and involved mom who participated in civic life and was quite taken with theatrical performance. As I watched the slide show, I listened to a group of older adults in the room talking about S2's mom, how they knew her, how they knew each other now because of her and how much they miss her (as well as a few other mutual friends who have died in recent years).
Although it was a different type of event -- catered soiree vs. potluck memorial, for one -- I saw a similar outpouring of love for my Tia L, who died last year. It occurred to me that some people in this world touch a LOT of folks, embolden and enliven a lot of hearts, soothe a lot of souls. If the gathering I observed tonight is any indication, S2's mom clearly was one of those spirits.
Which is why I take such heart in seeing how S2 is carrying on that legacy herself and how it lives in other family members and dear friends, as well. I never knew her mom well, but what I knew of her from our encounters was spirited kindness, an edgy sense of humor and great love for her family. In having S2 as a dear friend, I benefit from what she brought into this world every day. We should all be so lucky to see our own legacies so clearly.
At this celebration of her life, I knew few others in attendance. In the scheme of things, I am a very new addition to S2's life. I almost laughed when S2's sister introduced me to someone as a "classmate" and the man said, "Oh, *another* Lincoln High graduate." ... Uh, no, I replied, we're in school together now.
At this party, I was an outsider beyond outsiders, knowing almost no one in the crowd and not really speaking their language (of all the shared history and connections). I went by myself and had to work hard to strike up conversations with people. Curiously, one question I got asked several times by strangers was, "How many children do you have?" When I would reply, "None," I got a range of responses from: "Oh," (at which point the conversation suddenly ended) to a very sweet and long-time close family friend of S2's who replied, "Well, we were kind of late bloomers, too...."
Eventually, I found some friends of S2's older sister who were in a similar boat as I in terms of knowing hardly anyone there, and I got through much of the awkwardness (for me) of this evening by chatting with one of them who kindly overlooked me saying I have no children and didn't shame me when I spilled a bunch of Zinfandel on my white pants.
I learned some interesting things about S2's sister in the process, and because I am the one who could identify S2's daughters walking through the crowd, I didn't have to offer up any secrets of my own. Periodically, I could just say, See, that one is Little Pea. Doesn't she look like her grandmother? and then, using my handy Therapist Ray Gun v.2008, I could quickly induce them to tell me about their marriages and their experiences with S2's mom without having to give up anything of my own. Which is good, because the only thing I had to trade of interest to them were S2's "version of events," as one of the sister's friends put it, and there was no way in hell I was coughing up any *real* information. Fortunately, these women were moms, and they considered my ability to identify and point out to them S2, Little Pea and Getting to Yes as "real" information. Phew!
Anyway, one reason I felt so awkward this evening is because I have a fair amount of social anxiety when it comes to attending large events at which I know no one and have no role to play. I was there in support of my friend, who was having a good time and thus required no support. Because I had no one to hang with, I sometimes had difficulty even figuring out where to stand. S2's mom had SO MANY long-time friends and so many family members who came to celebrate her that when I arrived, almost every bit of their 3,000-square-foot home was heavily populated. S2 mentioned to me a few weeks ago that her family was being rather selective in who they invited, too, so heaven only knows how many people might have shown up otherwise.
I can't imagine for all the world that even a fraction of the people who turned out this evening to celebrate her life would so much as notice mine. It occurs to me that some people are born into this world with more blessings than others, more character, better temperament, better looks, better parents, more love, more gifts, more energy, more vitality. Compared to this woman, compared to most of her family and offspring as far as I can tell, I am impoverished. (A dog and a few dear friends comprise the totality of my interpersonal personal life.)
And yet, I am enriched (with hope for myself and others who have thus far not felt so blessed) by knowing this: When you extend love to others -- as S2's mom clearly did -- you sometimes receive it in return, as it appears she did throughout her life and tonight. What you anticipate getting in return is not the reason to love, but on those occasions when it does come back around, it feels so good that you just naturally want to put more of it out there.
Generate a cycle of that giving and receiving, and perhaps you end up with what I witnessed tonight. About a month before she unexpectedly died, S2's mom told her family that she had "lived a charmed life."
Indeed.
But it wasn't something she took for granted. She actually lived it.
Tonight, amidst this crowd of party-goers, I felt her saying, "Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you." And, unconnected to all that history as I am, I felt the privilege of being there to witness it. By all accounts, she had a grand life. It is nice to know such things actually exist.
Tonight, I attended her mom's farewell soiree, an evening party to bring together those who would celebrate her life even as they mourn her death back on December 27.
I can't imagine the pain of losing a beloved mother. In almost all respects, it is a pain I will never know. (When the Notorious M.O.M. kicks it, all I envision is the work of trying to release residual pain and anger about what I never had in life rather than what I lose through her death.)
But tonight, in S2's father's dramatic but cozy, wood-warmed house in the West Hills, I had the opportunity to see what kind of party a loving family throws for a woman who, if my sense of her is accurate and if the photos I saw fairly represent, was a spirited celebrant of life itself.
The slide show S2's dad assembled and ran on a loop on a TV down in the den showed her mother from the beginning of life up until her health began to decline several years ago. I only ever knew her in the last two years of her life, so it was a treat to see more. (Not to mention getting to see photos of particular events or activities from S2's childhood that she has told me stories about.) The photos tell a visual life story of a woman who was athletic, adventurous, quite the beauty (wow... some of those photos of her as a young woman!), an active and involved mom who participated in civic life and was quite taken with theatrical performance. As I watched the slide show, I listened to a group of older adults in the room talking about S2's mom, how they knew her, how they knew each other now because of her and how much they miss her (as well as a few other mutual friends who have died in recent years).
Although it was a different type of event -- catered soiree vs. potluck memorial, for one -- I saw a similar outpouring of love for my Tia L, who died last year. It occurred to me that some people in this world touch a LOT of folks, embolden and enliven a lot of hearts, soothe a lot of souls. If the gathering I observed tonight is any indication, S2's mom clearly was one of those spirits.
Which is why I take such heart in seeing how S2 is carrying on that legacy herself and how it lives in other family members and dear friends, as well. I never knew her mom well, but what I knew of her from our encounters was spirited kindness, an edgy sense of humor and great love for her family. In having S2 as a dear friend, I benefit from what she brought into this world every day. We should all be so lucky to see our own legacies so clearly.
At this celebration of her life, I knew few others in attendance. In the scheme of things, I am a very new addition to S2's life. I almost laughed when S2's sister introduced me to someone as a "classmate" and the man said, "Oh, *another* Lincoln High graduate." ... Uh, no, I replied, we're in school together now.
At this party, I was an outsider beyond outsiders, knowing almost no one in the crowd and not really speaking their language (of all the shared history and connections). I went by myself and had to work hard to strike up conversations with people. Curiously, one question I got asked several times by strangers was, "How many children do you have?" When I would reply, "None," I got a range of responses from: "Oh," (at which point the conversation suddenly ended) to a very sweet and long-time close family friend of S2's who replied, "Well, we were kind of late bloomers, too...."
Eventually, I found some friends of S2's older sister who were in a similar boat as I in terms of knowing hardly anyone there, and I got through much of the awkwardness (for me) of this evening by chatting with one of them who kindly overlooked me saying I have no children and didn't shame me when I spilled a bunch of Zinfandel on my white pants.
I learned some interesting things about S2's sister in the process, and because I am the one who could identify S2's daughters walking through the crowd, I didn't have to offer up any secrets of my own. Periodically, I could just say, See, that one is Little Pea. Doesn't she look like her grandmother? and then, using my handy Therapist Ray Gun v.2008, I could quickly induce them to tell me about their marriages and their experiences with S2's mom without having to give up anything of my own. Which is good, because the only thing I had to trade of interest to them were S2's "version of events," as one of the sister's friends put it, and there was no way in hell I was coughing up any *real* information. Fortunately, these women were moms, and they considered my ability to identify and point out to them S2, Little Pea and Getting to Yes as "real" information. Phew!
Anyway, one reason I felt so awkward this evening is because I have a fair amount of social anxiety when it comes to attending large events at which I know no one and have no role to play. I was there in support of my friend, who was having a good time and thus required no support. Because I had no one to hang with, I sometimes had difficulty even figuring out where to stand. S2's mom had SO MANY long-time friends and so many family members who came to celebrate her that when I arrived, almost every bit of their 3,000-square-foot home was heavily populated. S2 mentioned to me a few weeks ago that her family was being rather selective in who they invited, too, so heaven only knows how many people might have shown up otherwise.
I can't imagine for all the world that even a fraction of the people who turned out this evening to celebrate her life would so much as notice mine. It occurs to me that some people are born into this world with more blessings than others, more character, better temperament, better looks, better parents, more love, more gifts, more energy, more vitality. Compared to this woman, compared to most of her family and offspring as far as I can tell, I am impoverished. (A dog and a few dear friends comprise the totality of my interpersonal personal life.)
And yet, I am enriched (with hope for myself and others who have thus far not felt so blessed) by knowing this: When you extend love to others -- as S2's mom clearly did -- you sometimes receive it in return, as it appears she did throughout her life and tonight. What you anticipate getting in return is not the reason to love, but on those occasions when it does come back around, it feels so good that you just naturally want to put more of it out there.
Generate a cycle of that giving and receiving, and perhaps you end up with what I witnessed tonight. About a month before she unexpectedly died, S2's mom told her family that she had "lived a charmed life."
Indeed.
But it wasn't something she took for granted. She actually lived it.
Tonight, amidst this crowd of party-goers, I felt her saying, "Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you." And, unconnected to all that history as I am, I felt the privilege of being there to witness it. By all accounts, she had a grand life. It is nice to know such things actually exist.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The End is Nearly Fuckin' Nigh...
I'm staring down a two-week tunnel, and I can see the light at the end of it. Between me and the end of my graduate studies is One. More. Class.
And One. More. Paper.
The class will slide by with the banality due it, although I think a few of us will enjoy a beer afterward to celebrate the conclusion of something -- at this point, the end of *anything* sounds good. Only two of us in the class are actually done, as most of the other internship students are still trying to complete their required hours. But I am done.
Done. Done. Done. (And with the instructor I've had for this class over the past EIGHT MONTHS, you have no idea how good it feels to say that. I can't wait.)
Then, there's just this paper left. I've been mulling it for weeks, agonizing over its direction, its purpose, its quality. I have collected a lot of interesting stories, ideas and meanings people making around life and death, and I am trying to distill some themes from them. There are so many different perspectives that it's hard for me to say anything specific at this moment. It is going to be a serious bit of work over the next week or so.
This paper is due on the 28th. And when I turn it in, I will officially be finished with graduate school.
Hard to believe.
And One. More. Paper.
The class will slide by with the banality due it, although I think a few of us will enjoy a beer afterward to celebrate the conclusion of something -- at this point, the end of *anything* sounds good. Only two of us in the class are actually done, as most of the other internship students are still trying to complete their required hours. But I am done.
Done. Done. Done. (And with the instructor I've had for this class over the past EIGHT MONTHS, you have no idea how good it feels to say that. I can't wait.)
Then, there's just this paper left. I've been mulling it for weeks, agonizing over its direction, its purpose, its quality. I have collected a lot of interesting stories, ideas and meanings people making around life and death, and I am trying to distill some themes from them. There are so many different perspectives that it's hard for me to say anything specific at this moment. It is going to be a serious bit of work over the next week or so.
This paper is due on the 28th. And when I turn it in, I will officially be finished with graduate school.
Hard to believe.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Late for an Important Date!
S2 turned 40 yesterday.
When I saw her briefly, she was rather ill from some sort of respiratory (or other) infection, and I was bringing her a box of probiotics to counter the loss of precious flora and fauna caused by the gnarly antibiotic she's taking to dump the infection. I think she still had a fever. So that is not exactly what qualifies as a "happy" birthday. But it was her birthday nevertheless.
Even all ratty and tired, the woman is a lovely example of a human being at 40. I'm sure when she gets over what's ailing her, she'll be back to the youthful vigor she normally has. All I can say is that at 40, we should all be so lucky.
As for myself, I'll be hitting that mark later this year. S2 is the first of my friends who are my age to enter our fifth decade, and I've found myself a little fixated on that. Normally, I could give a shit about age. What's on the calendar is less a representation of age than how you're actually living your days, I figure. But there's something about 40 that has captivated me.
I think it's because at 40, I expect I will *then* be undeniably in middle age, undeniably an ... adult. Yet something in me still feels like a big goofy kid.
On top of it, I noticed that I've internalized all sorts of messages about 40. One of them is that there are no babies after 40. Of course, I know this isn't true. But I suppose in *my head,* I've decided that I will DEFINITELY NOT reproduce after age 40. Although anyone who knows me knows that I've not had any intentions to reproduce, somehow or other, turning 40 seems to be putting that possibility, that decision, that omission, into its final resting place.
Etched on that rock: Ain't. Gonna. Happen.
Maybe never having kids has kept me from feeling like a grown up. Maybe never actually ever having grown up is what's keeping me from feeling like a grown up. Maybe there's actually no feeling like a grown up, and whatever I thought I was going to feel is just a silly expectation left over from childhood.
I just know I expected to feel different by now. Kinda weird, that.
When I saw her briefly, she was rather ill from some sort of respiratory (or other) infection, and I was bringing her a box of probiotics to counter the loss of precious flora and fauna caused by the gnarly antibiotic she's taking to dump the infection. I think she still had a fever. So that is not exactly what qualifies as a "happy" birthday. But it was her birthday nevertheless.
Even all ratty and tired, the woman is a lovely example of a human being at 40. I'm sure when she gets over what's ailing her, she'll be back to the youthful vigor she normally has. All I can say is that at 40, we should all be so lucky.
As for myself, I'll be hitting that mark later this year. S2 is the first of my friends who are my age to enter our fifth decade, and I've found myself a little fixated on that. Normally, I could give a shit about age. What's on the calendar is less a representation of age than how you're actually living your days, I figure. But there's something about 40 that has captivated me.
I think it's because at 40, I expect I will *then* be undeniably in middle age, undeniably an ... adult. Yet something in me still feels like a big goofy kid.
On top of it, I noticed that I've internalized all sorts of messages about 40. One of them is that there are no babies after 40. Of course, I know this isn't true. But I suppose in *my head,* I've decided that I will DEFINITELY NOT reproduce after age 40. Although anyone who knows me knows that I've not had any intentions to reproduce, somehow or other, turning 40 seems to be putting that possibility, that decision, that omission, into its final resting place.
Etched on that rock: Ain't. Gonna. Happen.
Maybe never having kids has kept me from feeling like a grown up. Maybe never actually ever having grown up is what's keeping me from feeling like a grown up. Maybe there's actually no feeling like a grown up, and whatever I thought I was going to feel is just a silly expectation left over from childhood.
I just know I expected to feel different by now. Kinda weird, that.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Mixed bag
I had my first major league bout with counter-transference in the therapy room today. That's where my own issues get in the way of the relationship with the client and perhaps interfere with therapy.
I've discussed this situation with peers who are totally in-the-know, and the feedback I get from them is that I probably did a GOOD thing for my client. I think what I said to the client was probably decent, therapeutically, but I'm struggling with the fact that *I* know some of my comments were born in annoyance rather than empathy and kindness.
If you've learned anything about me from reading my blog these past few years, you'll notice that I'm no stranger to self-reflection and second-guessing. You can only imagine where I might take a serious inquiry into my own motivations for saying something supposedly "therapeutic" to a client, something that may have been perceived as a lecture or, worse, a dressing down. I was a touch passionate as I spoke.
I'd get into it more, but I just don't think it's kosher to write about clients on the freakin' Internet, no matter how "anonymous" I might hope to make this blog.
But as I think of it, the client's behavior and demeanor is strikingly similar to that of ... The Notorious M.O.M.
So....
In other news, after more than two years, several purchases and more than my neighborhood's fair share of curse words about the approaching "end times," I finally -- mutha-fucking jesus eatin' shit patties on a fence post FINALLY! -- got a can opener that WORKS! I never thought I'd see the day. Can opener after can opener, I have managed to buy lemon after lemon. But I finally plunked down $12 on the right tool at the grocery store, and I was able to open three cans tonight without a single mutha-fuckin' curse word! Glory be!
Alas, I think it means the end is very nearly fuckin' nigh (with apologies to 28 Days Later).
I've discussed this situation with peers who are totally in-the-know, and the feedback I get from them is that I probably did a GOOD thing for my client. I think what I said to the client was probably decent, therapeutically, but I'm struggling with the fact that *I* know some of my comments were born in annoyance rather than empathy and kindness.
If you've learned anything about me from reading my blog these past few years, you'll notice that I'm no stranger to self-reflection and second-guessing. You can only imagine where I might take a serious inquiry into my own motivations for saying something supposedly "therapeutic" to a client, something that may have been perceived as a lecture or, worse, a dressing down. I was a touch passionate as I spoke.
I'd get into it more, but I just don't think it's kosher to write about clients on the freakin' Internet, no matter how "anonymous" I might hope to make this blog.
But as I think of it, the client's behavior and demeanor is strikingly similar to that of ... The Notorious M.O.M.
So....
In other news, after more than two years, several purchases and more than my neighborhood's fair share of curse words about the approaching "end times," I finally -- mutha-fucking jesus eatin' shit patties on a fence post FINALLY! -- got a can opener that WORKS! I never thought I'd see the day. Can opener after can opener, I have managed to buy lemon after lemon. But I finally plunked down $12 on the right tool at the grocery store, and I was able to open three cans tonight without a single mutha-fuckin' curse word! Glory be!
Alas, I think it means the end is very nearly fuckin' nigh (with apologies to 28 Days Later).
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