I love writing. I set down my scratchy black pen, and the love of ink and page and the flow of unexpected discovery and adventure fills me with gratitude, too great to express, yet I want to, so I come here, to say thank you for reading, and thank you for giving me a place to set down my thoughts, now and then.
I am writing a lot this fall. Papers and reflections and journal entries. Notes. Presentations. Writing by hand, writing on yellow lined paper, writing in my notebook. Writing on screen. Rejigging my CV, and composing cover letters, for the purpose of applying to practicum placements, which will start either this spring or next fall. The closest I’ve come to writing fiction is sketching a few “case studies” for essays. I am also writing poems for a final project for one of my courses. The poems are not the point, the reflection will be, but the poems are thrilled to be invited to the conversation. Writing these poems, scratching them out in pen, transferring them to the screen, playing with them, backward and forward, is a balm, is a bright-burning flame.
This program is hard. It requires me to consider, as deeply and thoroughly as I can, how best to use my self. Safe and effective use of self. That is the phrase that guides my focus through the ups and down of this process. I have felt broken and lost, and buoyed and blessed and found, sometimes in the same afternoon. How can I use my self to serve others? Well, I am coming around to recognizing that “safe and effective use of self” isn’t about seeking the hardest path, or the greatest challenge, it is about knowing my strengths, and leaning on them, to make the best use of my whole being in the therapy space.
I am very hard on my self, folks. You may or may not know this. I am pretty sure my family knows it, my kids know it. I’ve tried to shield them from the punishing expectations I’ve put onto myself, but it is likely they have not been spared. I kind of know that, while not wanting to know it. Denial is real, and has a protective purpose, but in time, I would like to un-peel this shell and pull us all into the great love that I feel exists, beyond expectations, with no need to be right or accomplished or better than or perfect. Something that’s true is that I am not perfect. What’s the solution to not being perfect? I think one answer is: Being accountable.
My expectations are shifting, I feel it, and I am learning. I am learning to be gentler to my self, to speak to my self like a friend, and, yes, discover that it is gentler and kinder to recognize and name when I have done wrong, or been wrong, or acted in a way that does not align with my inner compass. To be accountable means to trust that my mistakes will be forgiven, to trust that I won’t be cast out or punished or abandoned or seen as unworthy for making errors, maybe even really egregious errors that cause real harm. I don’t want to cause harm, but as a human, I may and I have. If I name this and know this, I will be able to carry this truth to others, and offer hope.
Hope of repair. Hope of forgiveness. Hope of belonging. Hope of contentment. Hope of respect, dignity, and ultimately, trust in one’s self.
xo, Carrie