Part 1(written at work):
I haven’t been writing lately. Not sure why, maybe just that nothing feels settled, and then when it does I have no need to record the trappings. Maybe a little less satisfied with my own revelations. At therapy last night, my therapist confirmed that she is a little intimidated working with me. She said some things that I had already assumed might be true such as that I may have to get angry and work through it with her, that I would need to practice being more upfront and honest (risk hurting her feelings), that perhaps I could try wiping the slate clean and coming to her less a know-it-all, and more, just living into the experience.
She used the words processing in the overthinking way, and suggested maybe I need less of that and more being present in the experience. Sometimes I find it boring to sit still. It makes me feel restless. Other times I can be very mindful and experience all the things, I prefer to do this when I can be grateful for them, curious, fascinated… but rarely do I turn off the thinking that accompanies it.
She doesn’t get me yet, she is still trying to figure me out. And it is difficult for me to sit with that knowledge, and recognize that just like me, she is working through it through her own lens, which is not accurate to my experience. It’s a slight distortion that will impact things. But she is a little unsure, she is picking up something from me and it puts her a little on edge, and she wonders if I am ready to let her have control... and I am not.
Work has been particularly unsettled. The stuff with the leaders reignited the drama behind the scenes. Those who remain, are worried but trying to move forward. The staff on the whole has low morale and high compassion fatigue. We only have a few handfuls of kids but their tiny little tantrums are throwing everyone off. The therapists are all experiencing a little burnout. I want to play the wise old man, but there are times I can’t rely on others to pick up the pieces. I need to slow down and accept people where they are at, but this collection of our bent and trembling fingers is an odd shape for a container. We are seeing the limits of our abilities very early on… and wrestling with the disappointment, the grief of that knowledge.
Is this what I want? More and more I recognize that it isn’t. Not so much that my heart can’t hold it, or my mind can’t conceive it, but that my life won’t sustain the effort. The work can be comforting, can give a sense of purpose, but more often than not, I feel challenged in ways I don’t appreciate, and unmet where I wish to be challenged. It is life handing me a plate and saying “here do this” and I have always been a picky eater. What will I gain from this experience? I wonder. The challenge of slowing down, or accepting my strong voice, of holding boundaries, of pushing expectations when I don’t know that the other person is ready for this challenge? It is very opposed to my nature. Maybe that is a good thing. Maybe I keep taking on these efforts for a reason. Maybe it is important to know how to play a role even when you don’t have assurance that it will work. Be the cog, not the master of the machine, play your part.
Everyone has different ideas of what I “should” do, but what am I called for? Where is my alignment, I don’t know. I know that when I step in the building I feel a sense of overwhelm, not of creativity and joy. I don’t walk in feeling excited usually. And I don’t get to be my whole self. What would happen if I did? I’d be shut down, just as the kids are. The job requires self-regulation, boundaries, a recognition of the big picture AND a willingness to act.
This morning I was thinking the reasons I dislike the yellow painting (and T did like it –other than trying to cheer me up), is that it is the solar plexus, the action chakra. I am the one who sits and controls by inaction, and it scares me to act impulsively. Thoughtful planning, intention, forethought… that’s my jam. Heart, seeing, grounding… I can do that. But action, no. Action gets poor results when not thought through.
Grief and loss, and the changing of the seasons. Dance with me, I sing to myself as I stare at the trees blowing in the wind. I feel a fantasy creeping in, a dreamlike stare transfixed on the movement, seeing in it all things and nothing. I wonder if that is what I am like, a collection of atoms to project upon. At my best, I am part of the nothing, but everyone and their mom is telling me to take up space. To be the polished mirror that is my true self in this life, don’t skip the steps. Don’t be too eager to vanish, it will only hurt you and those you love. Sloth takes many forms including invisibility, and the avoidance of the hard truths.
This job doesn’t fully serve all the needs, so where can you find some resolve, some connection that encourages and expands life?
Or maybe this is not the season for expansion, maybe this is the season for letting go, falling away, accepting the loss. Maybe this is the time to gather, harvest, pull it all in tight around you, even if it wasn’t an abundant year, there are still blessings, there is still gratitude.
Part 2 (written at 10:30):
Everyone tells you things, just not in the way you want to hear. The students you are most proud of for their growth, will have a regression out of nowhere, a way of saying don't let go yet, I have work to do and need your help. The kid throwing a temper tantrum, saying that they don't yet have the skills to handle their overwhelm, can you hold this? And it is all good, it is all ok to sit with, as long as you don't hurt anyone else... but as Fiona reminds us: "evil is a relay sport when the one who is burned turns to pass the torch." And how else can one describe these traumas not yet resolved? I work with a lot of externalizers.
Today was an odd day of walking the line. My students need to be held accountable for their actions, and not just given understanding for their miseries. It is a both and... more complex than anyone cares to acknowledge. How can they hold themselves accountable? The adults in their lives never did.
The day left me feeling drained. I got home, ate food, neglected to do laundry or go for a walk, went to bed around 6:30??, woke up at 10:00 PM full of thoughts about work. This is not role modeling the self regulation that we ask for...
It seems to me that we are asking for/demanding actions that the kids are not able to fulfill, like in a school environment we are scaffolding them to their better natures. But that is not necessarily therapy as it is often not a choice, in the moment. That is where the tension is... holding them to account - while also trying to remove ourselves enough to support them in processing their behavior and actions. I am not sure I am a "good" therapist... I ask very much of them, but also sometimes do their work for them. But why would teenagers be ready to do anything other than what I am saying... they don't have the inner motivation, they don't have the experience, and no one in their lives (who they would listen to) is willing to coach them through the steps of growing through pain, rather than avoiding it.
Why would anything change? And if so... why stay. You've done this before, you know its a long slog... its a good role, but is it your role?
Part 3:
I was thinking while half asleep that I need a poetry prompt book, and need to sit every night and write something out. Poetry more than journaling, more than other things in general actually holds weight for me. Even the poems I write that I dislike have a memory or an insight to them that I don't necessarily get from journaling. I woke up thinking about ars poetica (a poem about writing poetry), and wondering if I should do one with my students. Today and yesterday I was comforted several times by old poems written throughout my decades, and kind of amazed that I both knew and didn't know their power at the time. Some sort of magic.
I've been finding comfort in Netflix and old vices. In some ways, both remind me that there is a world beyond my own, and in other ways allow me to escape in ways that I am not sure I should find comfort in. What does it lead to? I am more messy than I let on. There are things that would actually make me feel better -going for a walk, getting my laundry done, cleaning the apartment, journaling, writing poetry, connecting with a friend, finding actual love... but I am vegging out eating cookies that give me stomach aches, and watching tv. Everything feels so familiar, like I went through it 2 decades ago, and it bothers me how little I've changed despite changing so much.
I am telling myself a story of who I am... and lost in it again. It might be time to go travel or do a silent retreat, or eat some mushrooms.
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