*Power*

I'm sure I'm setting myself up for argumentative debate on this topic I'm about to discuss...and I welcome it! Ideas surrounding the idea of 'power' have been a repetitive contemplation for me the past week, a combination of books that subtly or overtly address the topic to real world experience (mine and others). Being an astute observer of psychology in action, I found myself re-examining this idea of 'power' that I previously perceived in a different way. I think this is why I never get bored with psychology; just when I think I've got something figured out, I tilt an idea around to a different angle and am left with yet another Rubik's Cube of both curiosity and bewilderment.

Is power a skewed and illusory perception of control and sense of self (or any particular entity, ie a country, idea, belief, culture, freedom,etc.)? Is there such thing as empowerment? What about control? How much do we really have of this idea of 'power' and 'control?' Does one's spiritual/religious (or lack thereof) mindset also influence how much power and control one wields?

I find myself fluctuating between feeling we actively choose what we empower and/or dis-empower within ourselves and our lives....to also feeling that there is no such thing as power. Where does illusion end and reality begin?

On the subject of power.....I'm currently reading a few interesting books that address the concept of 'power,' in two different ways. "The 48 Laws of Power" by Robert Greene overtly addresses the many psychological components and types of power, using 'successful' and 'unsuccessful' historical examples to enforce his key theories. I use the words 'successful' and 'unsuccessful' a bit loosely here because there are times when the examples utilized seem subjective and arbitrary, even questionably lacking honorable character. Then again, that would be assuming 'power' has a strictly negative or positive connotation. What perplexes and confounds me is the more middle/gray areas on the negative/positive continuum though, things that don't make it easy to distinguish whether something of 'power' is purely 'good' or undeniably 'bad.' Especially when it seems easily applicable to one's personal experiences in life. In theory, things are always simpler. But we don't live day to day strictly on theories.

Another book I'm reading takes a more subtle approach in examining issues with 'power.' It wasn't written with that intent, but I can extrapolate an underlying theme of power from it nonetheless.

"Beautiful Boy," a memoir about drug addiction written by an addict's father explores the overall spectrum of addiction, including the father's questioning of whether there was something he himself did that somehow influenced his son down the road of drugs. As the novel progresses (I'm on page 116 so far), it is increasingly clear that the father has no control or power over the events that unfold with his son. For the first time, I think I got an inkling of that sense of vulnerability a parent feels about wanting their child to be safe and healthy. I know I can't totally know what it feels like since I'm not a parent myself, but oddly I could sense it from the author's words. It made me wonder what I would (or even could, if at all) do if I were a parent who found out my child were somehow in danger.

I talked about this with my mom yesterday, as she (interestingly) is also reading a book that talks about 'power.' I asked her if she ever worried about Alex or I becoming drug addicts (a hypothetical example) or anything else very serious/scary happening throughout our childhoods. My mom shared with me that she never really felt she was cut out to be a parent and felt guilty from mistakes she made as a parent, but at the same time her philosophy is that realistically, we're not always going to be happy and problem-free in life. Sometimes it will be great, and sometimes it will be hard. Seems like a simple and practical outlook, but yet lost on so many 'helicopter' parents who desperately hover over their children to protect them from every conceivable thing. Again, it all goes back to power.

Do we have power and control only when we acknowledge to ourselves that it is just a matter of perception and the ability to 'let go' of it at any moment? I'm beginning to think so, and I bet you would agree with examples of your own. Think about all the times you have tried so hard to control and make something happen (or the flip side, avoid something from happening). Usually, the more you focus on it, the more futile it seems. But when you relax or stop obsessing about it, the desire for power and control diminishes. Such a hard thing to do. Why?

Because the stakes seem to be so high. But without risk and trust in the best possible outcome, there's also no sense of the EMpowerment in hindsight. Confused? Ok, here's a perfect example I was discussing with my mom yesterday in regard to my relationship to 'power.'

Living in the big city of Chicago for several years has molded me into a very independent and self-sufficient person. I was in for a shock when I got to Seattle and found myself feeling a lack of power in regard to traveling. I suddenly felt stuck, lost, and confused every time I ventured onto the Seattle Metro. I went from feeling a sense of power and independence from 'the known' of Chicago to a sense of inferiority and dependence on others here in Seattle. I don't do well with relying on other people to help me. I have no idea why, perhaps I feel I am inferior if I can't be self-sufficient. In any case, I have had to persevere despite my feeling this way and constantly depend/trust perfect strangers to help guide me to my destination. Sometimes I have felt a minor sense of empowerment (when I was able to avoid fearful thoughts of getting lost) and other times I had mini meltdowns of frustration and agitation (I let it consume me). My perception dictates the outcome.

Risk and trust. Reality and illusion. Power is everything and nothing at all.

Beautiful sad plots

I watched the movie "Atonement" tonight. A devastating tragic story with music and stunning visual effects to make it all the more powerful. I wondered if it would be boring, but I wasn't bored at all. I felt lost in the world of the characters, something I very rarely can do except when reading a novel.

Speaking of, I am also reading a great albeit sad memoir right now by Abigail Thomas called "A Three Dog Life." I stumbled across it at the Friday Harbor/San Juan Islands bookstore last weekend on one of the display tables. I like memoirs and I like dogs. Sold.

I have an attraction to sad plots. I think it's because there's so much more raw emotion to take in from a sad story than a plain and simple happy one. Stories that make me think and feel are better than cookie cutter Hollywood beginnings and endings.

Sunny in Seattle

I know, I know...so much for originality with the title, but it's true. People that don't live in Seattle are under the impression it rains ALL the time here, but yesterday and today have been absolutely beautiful. Especially today. I saw the mountains (like, REALLY saw them..clearly in all its magnificently vast glory) off in the horizon. My mom was right when she told me recently that you just can't stop staring at them (when you can see them on non-cloudy days)!

I had another interview yesterday, which went well for the most part. I didn't like the fact that the lady told me the location of the job isn't in the greatest part of West Seattle (gang activity apparently), but my mom works close to the same area and tells me it's not that bad. I was moderately reassured. The only thing I'm not reassured about is the salary aspect. I have always been pretty uncomfortable bringing up the financial factor with potential (and even past) employers. If you're too eager, you come across as greedy and selfish. If you passively take whatever's dished out to you without any kind of strategic and assertive negotiation, then well...you're a pushover. I don't want to be either one, but I don't want to be broke, bitter, or be perceived as an asshole either. What to do, what to do? I guess I can take a job that may not pay as great and continue to look for something that pays more. I don't know.

My journey to yesterday's interview took me through the University District of U.W. What a lovely, scenic area. And quiet too. I found myself getting excited and pondering to myself whether I should look for a job and place to live in that area. I remember a friend of mine telling me it's a cheaper area to live as well. Hmmm.

I just feel like I'm going through my days here with blinders on, an unusual feeling indeed. I don't always like it, but I'm trying to be patient and trust that things will fall into place soon enough.

On a cheerier note, it's incredibly wonderful not to have to wake up at 4am anymore. :)

PS...I didn't take the above picture of Mt. Rainier or the other mountain whose name I'm blanking on...but just wanted to give you a hint of what I'm seeing here (and the picture doesn't even do the real thing justice!)!

More on Washington....

(Map of Capitol Hill area...some of it anyway)

Hmmm, where to start? I've been incredibly busy since I got to Washington, which is somewhat good and somewhat stressful too. I feel bad because I haven't had much time to touch base with friends lately. And when I finally do have downtime, it seems to late to call my friends who are in a time zone two hours ahead of me. But I digress. I'm sure things will become more settled and less busy once I become acclimated to my surroundings and have a steady routine with a job,etc.

Yesterday was alot of fun. My mom, stepdad and I headed up towards northern WA to meet up with my cousin, his wife, and their son for a little day trip adventure further north. It took about an hour and a half to get there. We took a ferry ride to a place called Friday Harbor/San Juan Islands, which isn't too far from the Canadian border if I'm not mistaken. Oh, and when we drove through the toll to get tickets, I seemed to be mistaken for a 19 year old because when my cousin went to pay for our tickets (I was riding with them in their car at that point), the lady said something about two youth tickets. Ah, even at 30. Not sure whether looking 19 should be a compliment or not, but it made me laugh.

Once we got off the ferry, we went in this cool lavendar store, where I bought lavendar lip balm and lavendar pepper. I didn't know you could make dishes with lavendar in it, but I guess it's technically an herb/flower? I thought I'd be adventurous and give it a try. Maybe it will make for a tastier salad or soup! Apparently they have a lavendar field on the island where they make all their lavendar products for the store. I was hit with the strong smell of lavendar when I walked in the store. My cousin's wife Juliana and I loved it, though my cousin Ladd wasn't so much of a fan of it. hahaha.

Although it became rainy shortly after we arrived on the island (and many stores weren't open on Sunday, go figure!), we still had fun walking around looking in a few of the shops. I sampled a bit of Riesling, but restrained myself from buying a bottle. I REALLY wanted this black short sleeved shirt with 3 sequined wine glasses on the front that read underneath "Group Therapy," but I wasn't willing to pay $25 for it. Still, I thought it was funny...especially if I (because I'm a therapist) were to wear it. :)

I bought yet another book that I stumbled across at a bookstore. I have no idea when I'll find time to read all the books from my latest impulse purchases, but something to look forward to eventually I suppose.

Today was another adventure into the unknown of downtown Seattle. I found myself feeling more nervous about finding my way there than I was about the interview itself! I was glad I left when I did because it took me awhile to get there. Seattle's roads and transportation systems are different; I'm still observing and learning alot, today only being the second time I've been on the buses around here. I find myself comparing and contrasting (as I think I mentioned already in my second to last blog entry) how Seattle's buses are to what I was used to in Chicago. In this aspect, I miss Chicago. Maybe it's a case of 'the grass is greener on the other side' (because I knew where I was going in Chicago), but I also think Chicago's directions and streets were easier to figure out. Around here, it feels a little more vague. I'm just glad I was able to find a Metro Trip Planner online this morning, which is like the equivalent of Chicago's CTA trip planner. You type in your starting and ending address, hit 'enter' and it gives you a travel itinerary of how to get where you want to go. I felt a little more at ease with the knowledge of what buses to take, but anxious once on the bus. I notice they don't tend to announce or post each bus stop like they almost always do in Chicago, so if you're new you really have no clue where the hell you're going! Fortunately, I'm not afraid to approach people and ask, ask, ask away! While sitting next to this woman on the bus to downtown this morning, I asked her where the Westlake Center stop was at under the tunnel. She happened to be getting off at the same stop and was very kind to walk with me and point me in the general direction once we got off the bus. We also chatted a bit about the economy and how more people are taking the bus now that gas prices are increasing. I quickly got turned around once I started walking down 4th Ave for half a block. I retrace my steps, whereupon I must have had that "I think I'm getting lost" look because one of the helpful city guys in neon yellow and black approached me and pointed me in the right direction....diagnolly across in front of the Rite-Aid on Pike Street to catch the #10 bus to 15th Ave and Pine Street. Funny enough, I felt like I had stepped into an alternate universe of Chicago #2. Why? While I waited for the bus, it was really windy like Chicago and there was a crazy guy mumbling obscenities to himself, something that included 'heroin addict' in the phrase. The irony made me chuckle a bit. Once I finally got to my destination, I went into a co-op hipster/alternative-ish looking grocery store in the Capitol Hill area to ask for directions to Olive Street. The people were real nice; I discovered it was right around the corner. It was only a little after 1:00 and my interview wasn't until 2:00. I decided to grab a sandwich and coffee from their deli and coffee area. The weather has been great all day. I actually felt silly for carrying around an umbrella all day because I never had to use it: sunshine! But if I didn't have it, sure enough it probably would have rained....

The interview went ok. The man and woman who interviewed me were easygoing, non-intimidating. Most of the questions were easy to answer, though some of the questions were annoying simply because they were of the essay variety. I don't mind answering essays in writing, but I'm answering orally in an interview isn't my forte. I'm the kind of person who needs to think about something before I answer right away, in order to articulate in the best way. But I still think I did well. I honestly was put off by the fact that the guy never told me anything about the salary, neither while I talked with him briefly on the phone (I asked and he gave a vague generalization, "DOQ") nor after the interview. I honestly walked out of the place feeling indifferent about a job with them, which is fine because I ended up getting 3 more phone calls about potential interviews today. Two are for Child and Family Therapist positions and another one is with the same place I interviewed with today, but a Community Support Position.

After the interview, I wandered/walked down the Capitol Hill area on Pine Street. Lots of stores, coffee shops, and tattoo spots. I stumbled upon an Old Navy and needing new clothes, I went in to look for some pants. Bargains indeed! I got two pairs of pants, a long sleeve button down shirt (for work), and I found a purse that was originally $14.99 marked down to....$1.94! On my way out, as I approached the end of the sidewalk before crossing the street, I gaze to my left and see two youngsters (probably in their teens to early 20s) holding a cardboard sign saying "Need beer. Happy St. Paddy's Day." Made me laugh. I turned around to look at them again and see some guy hand them a slice of pizza from his pizza box instead. At the next corner, I spot a young pregnant woman (early 20's?) sitting on the ground against a building holding a sign that says "Homeless and Pregnant. I appreciate any help. God bless." I immediately think of Dan Savage. I wonder to myself if this is the 'gutter punk' mom whom he and his boyfriend adopted their son in the book "The Kid" I read months ago. You never know.....

It's after 4:00 by this time. I decide to head home. Fortunately, the bus route home was alot more direct and stressfree.

All in a day's 'work.'

Teriyaki and Starbucks

Teriyaki and Starbucks.

Having been in Seattle for almost 48 hours now, I have thus far observed these two things to be the popular staple food and drink items for Seattle area residents...not together of course, though I suppose one could have a tall nonfat vanilla latte with a teriyaki dish....

Starbucks is an obvious given, as everyone knows Seattle is where the Starbucks phenomenon began back in the 90's. The obsession with teriyaki around here, however, escapes me. I have been told there is a significant Asian population in the Seattle area, but think of how many different kinds of Asian food there is out there. You've got Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese (or pronounced "pho" I believe, which my mom tells me is also quite popular in Seattle), Indian, Korean, etc. So why teriyaki of all things?

I decided to do a little online investigation of sorts, my curiosity picqued as to why there is just as many teriyaki restaurants on every corner as there are Starbucks in Seattle. I found this article (http://www.seattleweekly.com/2007-08-15/food/how-teriyaki-became-seattle-s-own-fast-food-phenomenon.php) that basically justified teriyaki as a 'mutt' Asian food: "teriyaki's pedigree can be best described as a mutt of Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and European cuisines. And its origins are far more recent—and intensely local."

Wondering what all the hype was about (prior to reading aforementioned article), I decided to try a salmon teriyaki dish for lunch today. Seeing as I love salmon and I am a big fan of other Asian foods (particularly Thai food), I was optimistic I would enjoy a tasty lunch.....

But not so much. As I poured the 3 tiny condiment sized 'cups' of teriyaki sauce onto my white rice and salmon, I found myself disappointed by the overly trendy mainstream meal amongst Seattleites. First of all, it seemed like a very boring meal. White rice, salmon, sauce. No spices, veggies, or even a fortune cookie to make it interesting. Second, the sauce was too sweet for my palate. I found myself feeling nauseous and unable to finish the rice. The salmon was ok...sans sauce. I know I should give it another chance, but first impressions are vital...especially to a foodie like me. Besides, I don't like fast food much either (a double negative for me regarding the teriyaki factor).

I don't think my anti-teriyaki attitude will bode too well with loyal Seattle residents. Teriyaki to Seattle is akin to what BBQ is to Texas. You're abnormal if you don't partake or give in to a regional sense of culinary conformity. But hey, at least I tried, right? I have never been much of a fan of 'mutts' anyway.

I think I'll stick to my favorite 'purebred' Asian food: Thai. Ditto for Starbucks. Funny enough, I haven't even had a Starbucks coffee in Seattle yet. But give me another 48 hours.

From Chicago to Seattle (2400 miles)

Finally, I'm back with the blogs. I've missed writing the past week as I journeyed across the midwest to the Pacific Northwest. It's been interesting to say the least.....

Rewind to last Thursday, March 6, 2008.....

"Gotta finish packing, just a few boxes short of completing the endless task," I think to myself. I'll have a few more boxes tomorrow that I'll pick up from work, so I decide to clean my apartment from top to bottom (for the most part....minus mopping the floors...the only thing I didn't do before I moved out....too time consuming and I still wasn't feeling well from my 2-3 weeks long sinus infection/allergies). I clean, clean, clean for a few hours. A new voicemail pops up on my phone. I listen to it. Carla is crying, telling me she just found out her dad had a heart attack the day before and she's supposed to be flying in to O'Hare the following day (Friday night). Concerned, I call her back to see if both she and her dad are ok. I'm also apprehensive she won't be able to make it to Chicago with all that's happened, though I'd understand if she changed her mind. But I'm wrong. Despite the emotional news, she is just that phenomenal of a friend to not only be there to trek across America with me on my move, but also be there for her dad as quickly as she can get back (she flew back to Texas this morning)!

Friday, March 7, 2008

The alarm goes off at 4am. My last day of waking up this early, a routine I've endured the past 2 years and 8 months. I'll miss the quiet morning hours and the discipline it gave me, but I surely will NOT miss the wakeup time....somewhat akin to a military wakeup drill, minus the physically demanding aspect of their job. I head to work, feeling still somewhat surreal about it being my last day seeing all my clients, my coworkers, and PDS in general. I say goodbye to my clients, who are surprisingly supportive and excited for me. Who knew they cared?! Wow. After closing time, I'm wrapping up a phone call with my former supervisor Gail to touch base on my upcoming moving plans and I see Helen's face pop out from the corner of my office door (my friend who is a counselor at the PDS clinic downtown). Excited to see her, I get off the phone and get up from my chair to give her a hug. We chat for a few minutes and as we make our way to the front of the clinic, I see Mexican food sprawled out on the desk. My going away party! A card rests beside the food. Helen sets down a cookie cake that says "We love you Katie" along with a bottle of Jose Cuervo ready made Margarita. We both laugh at the inside joke of my reputation for margarita drinking, as well as the irony of the gesture (we are substance abuse counselors, after all). Ah, I'm gonna miss my quirky colleagues.....

I take a cab home with my prizes and a few much needed boxes for packing. I run a few errands and later head to O'Hare to pick up Carla. It's been a few years since I've seen her and when I do, comfort and the powerful love of our friendship washes over me, as she is like family to me. How many people can we rely on to be there for us when we need them most? Not many, at least in my experience. Hence my gratitude and overwhelming appreciation to see her in front of me! It takes us awhile to head back into the city via the Blue and Red line trains. I can't say I'll miss the slow CTA, especially the Blue line, but I digress.....

With the infamous wind whipping across our skin and hunger urging us on, we venture in the snow flurries in search of a late dinner in my neighborhood...my very last dining experience in my Lakeview neighborhood. Seeing as it was around 11:30pm, not much was open. Matisse bar and grill on Clark and Diversey it is! We crash for the night in my barren, disheveled apartment, falling asleep to "13 going on 30" on Carla's mini dvd player....the first of many movies to be watched on that great piece of technology to pass the time over the next several days.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Penske truck pickup time: 11: 00 am. I haven't driven a vehicle in 6 years. Understandably, I have some reservations about hopping behind the wheel. I ask Carla if she minds driving until we get out of Chicago. She doesn't mind. I'm relieved. Temporary nervousness averted. This is soon replaced by a new, though shortlived anxiety. As we load up the majority of my stuff, we notice a car parked directly in front of us. I can't believe we didn't pull up about a foot further, as now I worry we will technically be in a tow zone after my city moving sign expires after 6pm. I even call the city to ask them if a cop will tow the Penske truck for being slightly out of the tow zone compliance. The guy I talk to on the phone is being somewhat of an asshole, but answers my question to the best of his ability. In other words: "it depends on the cop." Gee, thanks for your help. I talk to my dad (who is a cop in Florida) who reassures me that a cop would have to be REALLY anal/an asshole to tow me for something so insignificant. I'm making Carla a little nutty with my control freakish tendencies by this point, so I promise to stop dwelling/talking about it and hope for the best. The worst that could happen is I get ticketed for $50, no towing.

After the truck is loaded up minus what we can't pack until the following morning, we head to Chinatown so Carla can get some pictures for her middle school students (Carla teaches general and special education). Haul ass back to my apartment to shower/get ready and meet up with my friends Rajiv and Eddie for 'the last supper' at Peppitone's in their Edgewater neighborhood. I introduce my Texas college friend to my loyal Chicago friends. It's great to hang out with friends from my past and present under the same roof, same table. Everyone gets along fabulously, no surprise to me. Great food, great conversation and a few drinks later, we cab it back to my place and crash on the mattress on my floor. We lose an hour with the time change, but it's ok.

Sunday, March 9, 2008: Moving/leaving Chicago day!

We finally drive out of Chicago around noon I think. Carla is the first one to drive, of course. I snap a few last pictures of Chicago out the window as we drive past downtown on Lake Shore Drive. Still feels surreal. I don't think I'll truly feel like I've left Chicago for another month or so...or whenever I get a new job and apartment. Until then, it just feels like I'm on some strange roller coaster ride of a vacation!

We drive through the boring state of Iowa. What a snoozer. Thank goodness we had time passing reinforcements to get us through the monotony of that state! We listen to music, listen to audio books, talk, watch movies on the dvd player (well, Carla just listens as she drives....don't need any accidents veering off the road!) as we make our way to Omaha, Nebraska, a pit stop to see my friend Tracy and her husband Justin (who are also moving to Seattle in May!) for the night. I couldn't believe how excited Tracy was to see me as we pulled up to the house around 8 or 9pm. I love my friends. :) After hanging out and talking for awhile (I had not seen her in 4 years!), we crashed. I slept like a rock. For some reason, I always sleep amazingly well when I crash at their place, which is telling since I don't always sleep well when I'm not in my own bed.

Monday, March 10, 2008
I awoke in the morning to happily discover Tracy and Justin had called in with their jobs in order to play hookey with Carla and I for breakfast at the Village Inn before we continued on our long journey west on I-80. I still haven't driven by this point. Carla tells me she wants to drive through the whole state of Nebraska, a personal goal of hers to 'finish' the state. I oblige. The nervousness starts mounting as the next projected state approaches for me to take over the driving reins: Wyoming. I feel like a born again virgin driver. What if I don't remember how to drive? What if I forget something? What if I run into something? Ok, calm down Katie. I reassure myself that I can do this. In fact, I've done it before, only alot more arduously in a 30' Penske truck from Reno, NV to KY 7 years ago. My confidence boosts a little more with that reminder to self...minus the fact that on top of my not driving for so long....I'm also driving in the dark, a double whammie. Carla realizes later on and feels bad. I tell her it's ok, I can 'suck it up' (one of her signature phrases!). And I do just fine. I drive through the whole state of Wyoming that night, though it's sad we missed seeing such a beautiful state full of mountains everywhere in daylight hours. Oh well. We pull into a Motel Six in Ogden, Utah around 2 or 3am (Mountain time). Sleep for 5-6 hours and we're off again.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008
As I step outside after the motel checkout, I see the view of mountains off to the distant horizon and it's breathtaking.

11:30 am. I'm back behind the wheel for another 6 hours, driving through yet another boring state during the day (we seemed to hit all the pretty states at night/in the dark, typical.): Idaho. During rush hour time, I drove through a slower construction area in Boise, Idaho. I was goin the speed limit, but apparently that's frowned upon in Boise. Speed demons galore, including a biker who had the audacity to flip me off as he passed around me. I returned the gesture. I hope he got a speeding ticket!

Around 5:30pm Idaho time (Mountain time still?), we stop for food. We haven't eaten all day. We're famished, but we don't want crappy fast food either. Denny's it shall be (sadly, it was the best of all culinary options off the interstate. Carla discovered a separate "sports" (I use this word loosely, but hey they had a few tvs and an actual bar in there!) bar area/room inside the Denny's. Who knew! Our dining experience just got a tad more interesting. Or perhaps it was a beer for each of us that did it. Cheers to beer at Denny's! Carla's turn to drive.

On to Oregon next, which turned out to be another visually stunning state. Fortunately, we were able to snap some pictures before it became completely dark. I started to feel crappy and tired though (still recovering from my relentless respiratory illness, which is fine for the most part but I think I pulled muscles in my chest from coughing so much the past few weeks because it hurts to cough and sometimes just to breathe). Carla trekked through Oregon and into Washington with me either cranky or sleeping in the passenger seat 3/4 of the way. We finally pulled up into my mom's driveway in SeaTac (a town within the Seattle area, near the airport...literally like 5 to 8 minutes away from the Seattle airport!) around 2 or 3 in the morning, which brings us to:

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Carla was a real trooper the whole week. Needless to say, I thanked her for her wonderful efforts on numerous occasions before she left, a true friend.

Around noon to 1:00pm we decide to go for a walk, which turns into a spontaneous adventure to explore downtown Seattle. Even though I was tired and felt like being lazy, I also wanted to hang out and do something fun with Carla before she had to fly back to Texas the next day. She had never been to Seattle before; we had to seize the opportunity. We found a #194 bus to take us downtown and were able to catch it right away. It was so bizarre to get on public transportation in a city other than Chicago. I found myself internally comparing and contrasting certain things about Seattle to my city experiences living in Chicago the past six years, namely public transportation and the overall environment of the downtown area.

As we sat in the back of the bus, Carla and I noticed two big men and a big woman sitting together in front of us. The guy directly in front of me had a 2 tear drop tattoo under his left eye and kept passing around a paper bagged bottle of an alcoholic substance to his companions. I had to chuckle to myself. In that regard, I felt as if I never left Chicago. Towards the end of our ride, they actually started chatting with us. Carla asked them where they would go if they had one day in Seattle, what to see, eat,etc. The tear drop tattoo guy suggested one of his favorite places, a teriyaki restaurant. He also told us about cool clubs to check out, though clearly his observational skills failed to recognize we weren't exactly donning nightclub attire (we were wearing our mutual college/SWT sweatshirts and jeans). Again, I was amused at the odd randomness and simultaneously comforted by the similarity of personality to midwestern Chicago quirkiness. But more on that later....

I must say, one thing that has definitely stuck out in my mind is how CLEAN it is here in Seattle. Wow! After living in Chicago with its constant stale smell of urine and homelessness in the air, Seattle's clean streets and sidewalks are an extremely refreshing change of pace. The roads are smooth too, no potholes in the roads or construction signs to be seen like in Chicago. No need for 3 to 4 layers of clothes to protect oneself from harsh, frigid wintery conditions. No one asking you for spare change every five minutes, though I did notice a fair share of homeless people yesterday. But even THEY were fairly clean. Simply amazing. Reminds me of a funny store to share in a little while too. I'll come back to the homeless in a minute.

Carla and I walked around for 3 to 4 hours in the downtown area yesterday. We decided to buy a few disposable cameras since we left our digital cameras at home, unprepared for our impromptu excursion. Pioneers Square, the waterfront, Pike Street/Pike Market, Belltown (aka the ghetto fabulous area, which was still pretty normal and clean for the ghetto area of downtown!) and the space needle. We hit all the spots in a speedy Cliff Notes kinda way, the most one can see in a short period of time. Miraculously, the weather continued to agree with us as it had the whole week of traveling: clear skies and average temps. It didn't rain at all! We took pictures and enjoyed a scenic walk.

Story time! As we made our way to the space needle (near the slightly 'ghetto' Belltown street blocks), an older homeless man held up a newspaper or something like that. Carla was walking ahead of me, talking to someone on her cell phone for a moment. I think she thought he wanted money from her or that he wanted her to buy a paper from him because she looked at him and politely said "No thank you." He retorted back in a slightly irate tone of voice, setting her straight. "Lady, I'm trying to tell you not to get run over and you tell me 'no thank you?!'" Apparently, he was looking out for her pedestrian safety....even though there were NO cars around that warranted the left field comment. Gotta love the mentally ill homeless people to keep the city experience interesting. Carla's response? She turned around, looked at me and said "Don't piss off the homeless around here Kate!"

We also saw a sign by the piers/waterfront area that said "Drugfree zone." Carla asks me if there's a zone nearby that isn't drugfree. I took a picture of that amusing sign. hehehe.

After dinner and beer at a bar and grill known to supposedly be the oldest restaurant in Seattle (the name escapes me), it's time to head back. The problem? The bus route we took turned out to stop running after 7pm. It was 7:20pm. Great. So much for round the clock public transportation like I was accustomed to in Chicago.....

We ask a few locals, who point us in the right direction. Luckily, we're able to find a #194 bus route a few blocks down (on 2nd street) from our original travel route. We talked to a few guys in their yellow and black city uniforms, bicyclists whose job I'm guessing is to help make downtown Seattle a more user friendly city. They were very friendly and helpful. We got on the bus and it was smooth sailing from there, an eventful day.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Carla left around 6am this morning to fly back to Texas. I'll miss her, but am thankful for her being a part of my cross country moving experience. My body still hasn't quite adjusted to Pacific time (2 hours behind Chicago time), but I know I'll adjust eventually. I woke up today to the quiet and relaxing sound of slight rain coming down. Welcome to Seattle! Now if I can just land the new job and apartment, I'll be on my way in bright lights, big city #2. I like the feeling of anticipation of the unknown that is slightly out of my reach....

Chapters

There are some chapters that will always be with me. Chapters full of people and places that I wish to never forget, the proverbial top corner of a particular page folded or flagged to refer to again with nostalgia and joy in future time.....like old friends who will always love you unconditionally. Then there are chapters I would like to erase from memory, maybe cognizant of the lessons it taught me while the chapter was being written, but looking back just wasn't salvagable because it was a chapter that didn't belong in the book in the first place. Chapters I'm excited to jump forward to, but they haven't even been written yet...a work in progress. Fun chapters that combine the old with the new, strange and beautiful nonetheless. But the best chapters are the ones I am living right now, creating as I go along.

Weepy becomes creepy

Today I started telling some of my clients that I'll be resigning in a few weeks. Some have reacted nonchalantly, while others have taken it a bit hard. The most unique response I have gotten thus far, however, has (of course) been from none other than...Weepy Woman. I had my last session with her today and I was ecstatic! After following up with her on some things I needed to help her out with, I gave her the news.

She was excited for me and made some comment about me being a 'lucky girl,' followed by her saying something about it being a coincidence. She just heard on the news last night that apparently Seattle is the #1 place to live. Weepy Woman began to explain why it was considered #1 and went on to complain about her dislike for Chicago and its 'rude people' (her words). I told W.W. that I still love Chicago and the friendly people, just not the weather. I asked W.W. where she would like to move to if she could go anywhere......

Yes folks, I am NOT making this up. Her response? "Seattle." God officially hates me. Why me?! Please, don't let it be so! Of all my clients! Weepy has turned....Creepy. I was telling her about a few different places I've lived and we talked about Florida. She asks if I've ever been to Boynton Beach/Del Ray. "No, but I have a friend who lives there....have you ever been there?" I say to W.W.

W.W.: "No, I was going to go there with my boyfriend (at the time, in 1988) but he got in a car accident and died."

She starts rambling about how she went to Tennessee instead, during "the heat wave of '88. Remember that?"

Me: "No...."

Weepy tells me Tom so and so got death threats that summer. "Tom who?"

Weepy: "The weatherman."

Me: "He doesn't have control over the weather...." (seriously, what else do you say to that?!?!)

She also tells me she knows someone who works for a travel agency and asks if I have a ticket already (!!!). I tell her I'm driving with a friend, not flying. Oh dear.

Finally, she gives me one last cry for old time's sake. And it wasn't about my leaving, it was about getting a lawyer for something. She also informed me that there's a Hepatitis A, B, C, D, F, and a G now.

This is the kind of stuff I'm going to miss being informed about when I leave. Ah, the stories...

The future "Sessions" book just wouldn't be complete without Weepy, now would it?

Settling in relationships

My friend Melissa (coincidentally, the one I mentioned in yesterday's blog!) emailed me an interesting article yesterday. Every now and then she will send me a relationship or marriage related article, curious to hear my thoughts since I have a master's degree in marriage and family counseling. I welcome the articles because they are usually interesting and/or stimulate food for thought, a good discussion about relationship issues,etc. This one has got to be the most thought provoking one she's sent me thus far. Being a very open-minded person, I was surprised when I found myself getting increasingly annoyed while I read the article. Melissa had just sent me the article link with nothing else but "What do you think?" in the email. I had to respond. I will include the article link here and my (slightly modified) response to it below. Read the article first so that you can understand my response better. Feel free to add commentary yourself, though I think this particular article caters more towards a female rather than male audience. But then again, I wouldn't want to discriminate. Comment if you'd like, regardless of your gender. :)

Here's the article: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23053553/from/ET/ ("Why it's OK to Settle for Mr. Good Enough")

and a video to go with it: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23064040#23064040

Here's my (slightly modified, but mostly my original email reply to Melissa) response to it:

I disagree with the author. Out of the many guy troubles I've had, it has been due to this very issue: my settling because I'm too nice and try to accept a guy as he is. And where has it gotten me? Heartbroken in the long run. At the same time, I don't think it's about finding Mr. Perfect aka "the One" (that's a pipe dream) nor is it about just snagging ANY guy off the street (desperation!)...it's about finding your best friend (that part I agree with). But as much as I feel lonely being single at times, I would rather be happy and single than bored and miserable in a relationship!

And her reference to marrying a guy who isn't even straight? That's so silly. I couldn't help but wonder if this woman has many friends because when she was describing certain feelings for people, I thought....can't any of her friends fill this need/role and/or want? Take my gay friend Rajiv for example. He's one of my "soulmates"...but in a friend kind of way; doesn't mean I want to marry him. It just seemed to me that some of the guys she mentions women marrying sound more like friends or roomates....and it is/can be to an extent. But it shouldn't be the main thing.

I don't know, maybe I just have different ideas about marriage since both my parents have divorced and remarried. My mom had a lifeless marriage to one man for about 13 years that I think was a result of her 'settling' in a way (people would actually ask her if he was her son!!!!!!). I think my Dad has also settled in the past. They are both in happy marriages now, but it's because they both found someone who 'fits' with them. I can't speak for them, but this is what I observe from my point of view at least.

I'm not sure if there is a correlation between my perceptions of my parents and my own experiences that have influenced me to believe this way, but I hate the word 'settling.' It bothers me being single at 30, absolutely....but I also don't want to marry a gay man nor one who doesn't really 'see' or 'get' me without it being in a 'more than friends' kind of way and vice versa with how I feel for him.

Wounded bird

Yet again, our clinic here at work not only pertains to helping people, but animals as well.

For awhile now, Carol has been taking care of the stray cats behind the clinic. Today it has extended beyond the cat variety....

About half an hour ago, I was standing near the front desk talking with one of my clients who had just walked in. He began to tell me that he saw a bird just outside of the door to the clinic that looked wounded. He didn't know what happened to the bird, but thought maybe the neck was broken. I walked over to our window door, peering outside. My client walked over to me and pointed out where he was limping around, on the icy sidewalk to the right. Carol was on the phone and I automatically motioned over to her, knowing she is quite the animal lover. After she got off the phone minutes later, she walked over to us and we told her what was going on. Carol went outside and kneeled down next to the pigeon, gently talking to him (like I said, Carol loves animals!). I started to walk away, figuring she would handle it in her own Carol-esque way, but I hear her banging on the door. I turn around and see Carol holding the pigeon in her hands, motioning for me to open the door, which I do. "Oh, we're bringing the pigeon inside?! Ok..." I say.

Carol strides to the back of the clinic and plops him down on our kitchen floor. His head is tilted to one side and he's relatively calm for a pigeon, not moving or flapping his wings much. I ask Carol what's she going to do, if there's someone to call. My client who told me about the pigeon had asked if he could walk back there to see him. "Sure." We three chatted about animals for a few minutes as we monitored the pigeon, then my client left. Meanwhile, Carol takes out a piece of bread and breaks it up to feed to the pigeon. One of Carol's clients had shown up for a session and she said she had to go. "Well, what are you going to do with him Carol? We can't leave him in the kitchen!" She hands me the gloves she had put on to pick him up and tells me to take care of him since I seem to be giving her direct orders. "I don't know how to take care of a pigeon!" I tell her. I joke with her about how the weirdest things happen to us at this clinic and she laughs, joking back to me something about leaving this place/going out with a bang.

I ask her how long she's going to be with the client because the pigeon can't be left alone. "I don't know..." Great. Katie gets stuck with babysitting a pigeon in the kitchen. Well, I was leaning against the door frame of the kitchen door, so I felt more like a bouncer or security guard for the pigeon, but still! The things I do for Carol! I stand there for about 8 minutes as Carol is in her session and the pigeon lays curled up in a ball in the far corner of the kitchen's floor.

I debate whether I should call my veterinarian friend Melissa for some wounded animal medical advice, but she lives in San Francisco. It's two hours behind Chicago time, which means I would be calling her at 5:30 to 6 in the morning. I decide against it. Carol and I also didn't think any animal shelter or vet would really want to help a pigeon of all animals. Plus, the sad reality is that the pigeon's leg seemed to be broken. He seemed to be dying. There didn't seem anything we really could do...except give him a private, more dignified and peaceful way to die. Carol put her gloves back on, grabbed an old kitchen towel and wrapped it around him as she picked him up. I opened the door for Carol, who told me she walked around the corner to one of the alleys to put him in a secluded spot. She left the towel on him so that he would at least be a little warmer.

So much for the happy ending, but Carol and I tried...as we always do with our 'helping' and nurturing roles. R.I.P. dear pigeon.

"Canvas:" A true portrait of ScHiZoPhReNiA

Restless with a need for distraction, I stumbled into Hollywood Video last night to rent a movie. I wasn't sure what I wanted to see or even what there was to see. I browsed along the usual 'new releases' wall and quickly noticed "Canvas" amongst all others. I will admit that what initially attracted me to the title was from my friend and coworker Carol telling me about it months ago. At the time the movie was being filmed, Carol had been working at a hotel in Florida in the area where some of the cast and crew made it their temporary 'home' during production. Carol had the opportunity to talk with various actors, the director,etc and even got an extra copy of the script that they had. She had thought the movie was about autism, so I had a feeling it would explore some kind of mental disorder, however, when I started watching it I discovered it is about something far more devastating and troubling: schizophrenia.

When I was in graduate school, I learned the basics of schizophrenia, but I remember feeling frustrated by the lack of learning more in depth about it from professors and general reading material. It seems like such a mysterious and convoluted illness. I have wanted to know more over the years, but my curiosity quickly turns into a feeling of unmotivated futility. I have realized the best way to learn about it isn't through theory, but through the experience of real-life application. Interestingly, this movie reflected back to me certain characteristics I sometimes see in a client of mine who shows mild forms of schizophrenia. Funny enough, this individual was on my mind yesterday earlier in the day when I was at work...before I even came upon "Canvas." He was scheduled to have a counseling session with me and had not shown up. His wife (Carol's client) ended up coming in, eyes puffy from too much crying. Approaching my office, she told me he would not be showing up for his session today.....because his mental illness has been bad the last three days.

Over the course of his treatment with me (almost 3 years), he has been hospitalized 2 or 3 times. When he's doing well, he's fine. When he's not taking his medication, however, it's bad. I asked her if he needs to be hospitalized, but she says the problem is that whenever he goes into a hospital, he tends to become aggressive (ie, spit, kick,etc) with the staff members, making it difficult for them to want to re-admit him at the same hospital in the future. In the past, I may have challenged her response, but I have experienced verbal aggression from him firsthand as his counselor (he is the one I wrote about months ago that screamed at me over the phone and made semi-threatening comments, my most challenging client). I know how he can be. I asked her if she felt safe, as I know she had been crying and she wiped away a few tears as she spoke with me. He has not hurt her physically (as far as I know); it hurts her emotionally to see him in his schizophrenic episodes.

I cannot understand why he won't take his medications if he knows he is better with them than without, but that's a whole other potential topic for discussion....

Getting back to the movie.....if you want to understand more about the illness and most specifically how it affects the overall family, watch "Canvas." Very few movies have been done about schizophrenia. "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" was a great movie, but it seems a little stereotypical to me. "A Beautiful Mind" is also phenomenal, however, it seems to focus more on the 'genius' brilliance of the disorder more so than the everyday effects of living with someone who has schizophrenia. What I liked most about "Canvas" is how 'real' it feels. I found myself identifiying with and feeling compassion for all 3 of them. I feel sadness and confusion coming from Mary, who cannot make sense of how her disorder is affecting herself and her loved ones. I feel some alienation from her husband, who would rather sublimate his energies into building a boat than connect and offer emotional support to their young son. And I also feel anger and depression from their son, whose only relief from emotional distress comes in the form of spending quiet time alone at the beach and sewing patches on old shirts for his classmates. I could say more about the movie, but I don't want to ruin it because you really should see it.

For information on Schizophrenia, check out http://www.healthcentral.com/schizophrenia/causes-000047_4-145.html?ic=506019 (symptoms)

and

http://www.healthcentral.com/schizophrenia/causes-000047_9-145.html?ic=506019 (therapy).

Trafficking and "Trade"

This is a picture from the movie "Trade" (http://www.tradethemovie.com/trailer.html) that I watched yesterday, a film that exposes the disturbing dark world of human trafficking marked by degradation and sexual exploitation for profit. It is by far one of the most disturbing movies I have seen thus far. While it is a very sad movie, it also reflects the amazing strength and resilience human beings are capable of, despite such heinous acts against them. The story specifically shows a compassionate relationship between a twentysomething Polish woman and a 13 year old Mexican girl that have been kidnapped and forced to migrate with their captors to the highest bidder (or 'john').

It was extremely difficult to watch, but I recommend this movie as far as it being an educational expose' of the gross violation of human rights that still go on today. After the movie, I watched some 'extras' as writers, directors, and producers spoke about what inspired them to create the film. Interestingly, "Trade" was based upon a NY times article written by Peter Landesman in January 2004. Curiously, I Googled the article and read it earlier this morning. It is a 12 page article and takes awhile to read, but it's worth the time if you get a chance to check it out: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B04EEDA1439F936A15752C0A9629C8B63&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=1. Scary stuff.

I found another article (http://www.slate.com/id/2174606/) that challenges the Peter Landesman article on the pervasiveness of the problem (critics argue the sex slavery trade is overexaggerated). Considering I don't have much knowledge and/or done any research on this issue that extends beyond the aforementioned articles, I'm not sure if it's a widespread concern or not. Even so, do numbers really matter when this is an issue AT ALL (whether it's 100, 1,000, or 1 million....regardless, women and children are still being degraded and exploited internationally!) in this world?

What, if anything, can we do about it though? Do we leave it strictly up to ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement), law enforcement agencies, and other government sectors to ameliorate the problem? What if it's not enough? After all, survivors of sex trafficking have stated that they couldn't trust any kind of authority figures to help them out of their entrapment, sometimes due to those very people contributing to the perpetual cycle of exploitation. Sometimes the victims just felt they wouldn't be believed and/or feared abusive retribution from their captors if they attempted escape/help.

The ways humans treat one another many times just makes me deeply melancholy.....

Walking with my camera

I forgot how much fun it can be to wander around the sidewalks of Chicago neighborhoods every once in awhile. I have been wanting to take some Chicago pictures before I leave the city next month, but have been turned off from doing so due to the overwhelming weather conditions. (A total of 40+ inches of snow thus far since winter started!!!)

Yesterday it was absolutely beautiful outside though. 33 degrees, sunny skies, no wind, and only relative amounts of snow/slush still on the ground from the copious amounts of snowfall we've had lately.

It hit me: this is the perfect opportunity for a spontaneous excursion around my neighborhood! I charged up the battery for my digital camera and headed out around 2:00pm. I was feeling adventurous and creative, the pink and black striped hipster-ish hat on my head a match for my mood. I walked from my apartment down to Belmont and Broadway, turning left on Broadway. I clicked away at Reckless Records, Bamee Thai, Stellas, Friar Tuck, street signs, snowy streets, "L" tracks and the cable cars of trains. Walked and snapped down Clark Street, Sheffield and Wellington, Halsted, side streets, Belmont. 6 years of memories relived as I walked down these streets, my fondness for Chicago reignited.

Sometimes while I photographed something, a pedestrian around me would give me a look as if to say "Why would you possibly want to take a picture of that?!" Or, "There goes another tourist..." But I didn't care.

I ended up walking around for two hours. It was fun.

Substance

What do you think of when you think of 'substance?' Thinkexist.com defines 'substance' as any variation of the following:

1. The most important element in any existence; the characteristic and essential components of anything; the main part; essential import; purport.

2. Body; matter; material of which a thing is made; hence, substantiality; solidity; firmness; as, the substance of which a garment is made; some textile fabrics have little substance.

3. To furnish or endow with substance; to supply property to; to make rich.

4. That which underlies all outward manifestations; substratum; the permanent subject or cause of phenomena, whether material or spiritual; that in which properties inhere; that which is real, in distinction from that which is apparent; the abiding part of any existence, in distinction from any accident; that which constitutes anything what it is; real or existing essence.

5. Material possessions; estate; property; resources.

Which one of the aforementioned definitions of the term do you most relate? (The fourth one is best, in my opinion)

"Substance," is obviously a very broad term to describe just about anything. It could be used to describe substance abuse, a person of substance, a song or novel lacking substance....and the list goes on and on. Is this the reason it can make things more difficult and challenging, if we are searching and trying to make meaning out of what constitutes our own personal meaning of the word in our lives?

I got to thinking about this in regard to relationships in our lives, specifically how much stock we may or may not put into relationships of an 'acquaintance' level as opposed to say that of a 'friend.' There are those who will put more time and effort into juggling the admiration and respect of their 'acquaintances,' at the expense of closer connections (this is what I don't understand, but that's a whole other story).

Then there are those who are more discerning of who they will share their 'subtance' of self with....those meaningful relationships you can count on just one hand. It can be challenging to find those of 'substance' when there seem to be more individuals out there of the superficial variety, or what could best be described as 'contact people' in the proverbial address book. It can be likened to trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Interestingly, those who seek 'substance' to satisfy short term gratification may be the very people who become 'substance abusers,' though do not let the literal terminology fool you. This goes beyond strictly drugs and alcohol. It can be found in those who are drawn to materialistic lifestyles, those with addictive personalities, those grappling with chronic mental illness, and individuals who are just flat out self-absorbed (ie, narcissistic). There are plenty more examples, but these are the only ones that immediately spring to mind as I write this.

What I wonder is, what leads one to actively choose whether to pursue the good, meaningful 'substance' in life (ie, true friendships, beauty, love, compassion, and intimacy to name a few) or the 'darker side' of illusion?

I feel like the older I get, the more difficult it is to find individuals to have 'substance' relationships with and it saddens me. I would think it would be opposite...harder when younger and easier as one ages. I don't understand this. I wish someone or something would enlighten me on why this is the case (or why it is MY perception).

Do people not want substance in their relationships because it simply takes more time and effort? Is it because it raises the stakes of trust and intimacy? Are people lazy? Apathetic? ADD? Bitter? Too angry? Too confused? Too scared? All of the above? None of the above?

I have had relationships where it started out superficial, then progressed to that of substance. I have also had relationships that seemed to immediately have some spark of substance to it, some of which have remained strong and some of which have fizzled. What set one apart from the other (the one that stayed strong from the one that sadly withered)? This is a rhetorical question of course.

As insightful as I am, I'm certainly not omniscent to answer such a complex thought. Still, I wonder. It reminds me of the cliche saying of 'Better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.' Can the same be said for substance? ....Better to have had substance once (or, off and on) than not at all? Maybe.

On a brighter note, I am much happier with the quality of the few great substance relationships I have in my life. If I can't have both quantity AND quality....give me quality, a priceless value of substance in and of itself.

If we knew then.....

If we knew then what we know now, would we still go down the same career path and pursue our specific profession? More than a handful of people I know, including myself, have to create a balancing act between what is part and parcel of the 'job description,' as well as fly by the seat of our pants learning how to do aspects of the job we never would have anticipated. If I were to take a poll, I'm sure a motley crew of individuals in society could readily identify and agree with this observation.

Do the pros of your job duties outweigh the cons? For instance, does your passion for your work feel more like 'play' (or is it at least 'interesting') most of the time? Or are the difficult and sometimes weird aspects you didn't sign on for overpower a nieve sense of idealism you once had prior to the unknown professional commitment? This is not to say idealism is a bad thing, but it can blind us to the reality (or application) if we focus too much on theory.

I remember thinking about this alot when I was in graduate school. As any graduate student can attest, being a student involves a full immersion into learning the ins and outs of a chosen profession. It is with the hope that if you work hard (or more succinctly, work smartly), you will become sufficiently confident and competent to tackle the professional challenges that lay in waiting out in the work force. Sure, we may feel some degree of apprehension, but we've been given ample preparation and training, right? Not entirely.

Nothing prepared me for the day I would begin working with drug addicts taking methadone, let alone answering the ever dreaded question in virtually any social situation, "So, Katie...what do you do for work?" (Note: I have increasingly come to loathe this predictable conversation starter because the answer is more of an essay style variety, too complicated to reply in short answer form...believe me, I've tried the ambigious approach...doesn't work). I also never would have guessed that in my lifetime, I'd feel scared shitless at work (One of at least a handful of examples: When I had a client inches from my face, raising her voice with a threatening tone that suggested she might get violent on me).

Or the time another woman lifted up her shirt (without a bra) to show me some cyst she had around her breasts. No exaggeration. And working with those that have more extensive issues (ie, severe mental illness, socioeconomic hardships, bad hygiene, strong sense of entitlement) that go beyond the average presenting problems of 'regular' counseling or what I remember learning about in my classes at Adler. I'm beginning to wonder if there is such as a thing as 'regular' (or 'normal') counseling....just as I'm sure my friends who are teachers think similarly about their jobs as 'just teachers' (because they end up doing their fair share of 'counseling' as well!).

Maybe normalcy and 'standard operating procedure' only exists in the least unpredictable of environments, which probably rules out about 90 to 95% of most professions.

If someone told me five years ago that I would also someday work at a job where I had to collect urine as part of the job description, I would have cringed. Ditto for working at a place where arming and disarming a security alarm is as routine as brushing one's teeth in the morning. Then there's all the health problems and medical issues I end up talking about with my clients, even though I continually tell them I'm NOT a medical doctor, nor even a psychiatrist. I certainly do counseling, but there's all these extra job duties graduate school and professional training just don't prepare you for and I guess it's near impossible to do so anyway.

Perhaps our work lives serve as a metaphor (or a microcosm of the bigger macrocosm) for our lives in general. John Lennon has said it best: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." Absolutely. Control and plan as best as we might, the real work happens despite our pre-planned efforts and passions.

So while having passion and bliss in one's professional life can be tantamount to overall happiness in life, I think it is critical for one to be open to the possibility that with the sweet comes the bitter. It can, and usually does, fly out of nowhere! Whether you can fully embrace the bittersweet and still keep your passion and sanity....that can be the most revealing challenge of all. And I can proudly say....

I'm still standing, er sitting here. How about you?

"Self-help"...is not much help.

I don't tend to read 'self-help' books that often; they are usually very 'pop psychology-ish' (aka 'crap') and don't offer much specific help to the reader. But maybe that's just my perception, seeing as I have an extensive background (note: 7 years education-wise and 4 years clinically) in psychology and actual clinical counseling experience...not to mention my own personal experiences! With this combination of theoretical and applied wisdom, I have had alot of help in seeing whether there is a cognitive dissonance between what someone says and the overall 'reality' of a general example given. Most times, I find psychology and even some spirituality books (like Osho, my personal favorite) to be the most accurate as far as guidance/advice coming strictly from books, comparing it to what I know from my own personal and professional experiences.

This is why I'm not sure why I have fallen prey to so many 'self-help' aids the past few weeks or so. Maybe deep down I honestly would prefer a quick fix solution to a complex challenge, though logically I know that won't be happenin'! hahaha.

It all began this past weekend when I was hanging out downtown at Starbuck's. I was perfectly content, reading my memoir novel (about Asperger's, written by Augusten Burrough's brother) when my friend Heather called. We have been talking more frequently the past month or two, usually swapping stories about things going well or not so well regarding our 'love lives' or lack thereof. As part of our whole 'let's improve our chances of making ourselves confident catches' (in the relationship department), we have both been reading aforementioned 'self help' books here and there. We read, absorb, self-analyze and discuss amongst ourselves. Simple, right? Absolutely...not. I'm more discouraged and frustrated than BEFORE I read the seemingly 'helpful' books.

Heather told me she started reading "Why Men Love Bitches" (meaning, why men prefer independent confident women vs. insecure 'doormats') and recommended it. Me being the bibliophile and 'all about self improving' gal I am, I could not NOT scurry around the corner to my old Borders stomping grounds on Michigan Ave shortly after our phone conversation to purchase it. I was somewhat familiar with the title and the general theme of the book from when I used to work at the bookstore, so I had a feeling it might be an interesting read. I picked it up and walked around the corner to browse other books in the 'self help' section. Why? I don't know, but I did. I came across this other book called "The MANual" by Steve Santagati, a self-proclaimed "bad boy" and serial dater who reveals how women can successfully spot 'bad boys' in the dating world to either beat them at their own game or join 'em (so to speak) without being nieve or getting hurt in the long term. I caved and bought that one too, more so out of curiosity. I wanted to judge for myself whether it was 'garbage' or 'good' advice.

I decided I had more of a burning desire to read the bad boy book first and quickly read it in its entirety over the span of this past weekend. This included taking a test, "Do you like Bad Boys?" which revealed I seem to like 'bad boys' 30% of the time. How reassuring. I use the term 'test' very loosely, dear reader. Like I said, it is surely not a psychologically sound test, but all in fun I guess. I'm still not sure what exactly I think of the overall content of the book, though I saved the receipt to return it to the bookstore soon, if that's any indication. All I know is, it left me feeling more distrustful of men's 'agendas' instead of more confident (I have to roll my eyes at Molly Sims' endorsement on the back of the book).

I found myself feeling a little sad yesterday and wasn't sure why. It dawned on me that it was that book I read...and watching an episode of 'Oprah' where she had this matchmaker as a guest, telling women what they are doing wrong, why they are still single,etc. I then called my friend Heather and left her a message telling her something along the lines of feeling like I was better off BEFORE I got caught up in all this self-help craze and how I'm beginning to have a 'why bother?' attitude. Still, I'm trying to be positive and carry on with my own personal self improvement approach to my singlehood. I started reading the "WMLB" book last night and am about 70 pages in. So far so good. But again, it depresses me more than it uplifts me...though in this case, I think it's because it is genuinely reflecting back to me things I do that need to be changed...not in a pop psychology kind of way.

All in all though, after I finish reading the book, I'm going to stay away from 'self-help' stuff for awhile. What good does it do when it's not even consistent advice? There seem to be more 'self help' titles than psychology and counseling books. Now I know why....because everyone has their own personal agenda.

As a therapist, I would encourage others to think long and hard before they pick up any 'self-help' books. You might just be better off on your own....and if not, get a therapist in lieu of a 'self-help' book. You could be saving yourself up to $20 dollars in the long run....because you'll need a therapist anyway after reading a convoluted pop psychology book that confuses the hell out of you. I know I need one!

Get naked and relax.

No, this is not one of THOSE blogs, rest assured! I am referring to the uplifting and rejuvenating experience of being pampered for a few hours out of the day: taking care of your body with spa treatments and full body massage. How often do we truly nurture our bodies? Quite the contrary; we seem to damage it with stress, bad substances, and ignoring what it tries to tell us when the going gets rough.

If you're like me, you're lucky if you have enough money for everyday items, let allow the means to afford something so 'luxurious.' But I swear if I'm rich one day, I will make it a healthy habit of going to a spa at LEAST once a week, if not more frequently!

I've had professional massages a few times in my lifetime thus far, but nothing is comparable to the experience I had yesterday at Thousand Waves Spa for Women. I probably never would have gone to the spa had I not had a gift certificate my friend Melissa gave me for my birthday. It's not due to lack of desire, adventure, or relaxation...simply the money factor. This is why I love my friends who do such kind, extremely generous and thoughtful things for me. This was the best gift I have received in a LONG time.

I arrived shortly after they opened at 10am. I was told I could use the spa bath treatments if I arrived one hour before my scheduled 11am body massage. I was a little nervous about whether I would be able to strip down and let loose practically naked (besides the white towels and robe they provide). But I was determined to be bold and adventurous. I have never been completely comfortable in my own skin, especially naked...but I took it upon myself to face the challenge with a sense of humor, freedom, and relaxation. Fortunately, the fact that there was hardly anyone around when I first arrived made it all that much easier to be comfortable with my near nakedness.

I walked away from the lockers with my robe loosely over me, through the door to the back of the spa baths...and noticed I had the hot tub all to myself. It was calling out to me, "Katie, you know you wanna come in!!!" Not really, but that's how it went in my mind. I turned on the jets, got naked and hopped in for a delightful 10 minutes of silence and relaxing warmth. It was then on to the sauna.

I've only been in a sauna maybe once or twice before and it never really was my cup of tea. This time, however, proved a more positive experience. Slightly resembling a log cabin inside, I sized up the 'stone fireplace' to the left of the door. I was careful to step as far away from it as I could. My luck, I'd probably trip over myself and burn my elbow (or more sensitive body parts) in the fiery hot stones....and being scantily clad with nothing between me and the stones but a flimsy spa towel....I think you get the picture!

At first I was going to go naked because I was by myself, but then this other woman walked in with her towel around her and sat down to my left....so I kept my towel draped. If she were an old lady, I probably wouldn't have cared, but I think I was intimidated to go naked in front of this attractive woman who seemed around my age. Here I thought I was only self-conscious about being naked in front of men, but apparently not. Go figure. Fortunately, this was the only time I was self-conscious about the naked factor the entire time I was there. Baby steps!

I chatted with the sauna woman for a minute and then we both shut our mouths to enjoy the sweat inducing heat that would later leave my pores saying 'thank you for that!'

10 sweaty sauna minutes later, I rinsed off and went for the ultimate challenging treatment: the Eucalyptus steambath, which was basically a glorified tubless shower. I wanted to fill a tub with cold water to bring in with me, but being a newbie, I couldn't quite figure it out and I didn't want to disturb the ladies that were relaxing in the hot tub nearby. I decided to wing it and go in for the gusto!

All I can say is I'm glad I was the only one in the steambath 'closet' because this was not a place where you want to have anything touching your body. If any treatment could possibly motivate you to go in your birthday suit, this is the one! I could barely breathe and oddly enough, I felt like I sweat LESS than in the sauna. Very abnormal. Invigorating in a bizarre kind of way, but I only lasted maybe 5 minutes in there!

After rinsing off again, I dried my hair a bit. Overall, I was feeling incredible. I was surprised at how freeing it can feel to be naked and mostly uninhibited (like I said, I'm not 100% there, but more comfortable than I've been in the past). I also noticed that other women are imperfect too. We hear this all the time from people ("No one is perfect," "Everyone has flaws," blah blah blah), but it's quite another thing to experience and see it for yourself firsthand. No one around me appeared to have the 'perfect' body, so why should I care how I look naked either?! Now if I could just feel this way ALL the time, outside of the spa. Ah, the odd little contradictions of life.....getting naked and surrounded by naked women in order to feel comfortable naked. That's an oxymoron if I've ever pondered one....

I put on my robe and headed down to the 'relaxation room' downstairs for a few minutes to enjoy a cup of chamomile tea, then off to my FULL (!) body massage. I'm cognizant of the fact that my shoulders have been hurting me alot the past week or two, but I didn't realize just how tender it was until I had the massage therapist concentrate her time on a knot over my right shoulder. I'm a little achy today in my shoulder area, but it's a good kind of hurt (I hope).

All in all, it was nice to be taken care of and pampered for a few hours, especially since I spend so much time taking care of others. I feel like a whole new woman today. Vibrant!!

It can be easy to forget how wonderful it feels when others spoil you...especially physically. Something so simple, yet lost on so many of us: we'd all be alot happier if we physically took care of ourselves and others more often than we usually do.

So....get naked. And relax. If you can afford it. :)

Passionately and blissfully bipolar!

I'm feeling such a weird mixture of unexpected emotions this morning. It started off just like any other day, but feels anything but normal right now. I'm almost speechless as to how happy and sad I feel at the same time about what I'm experiencing, but I'll try. I'm not sure who all reads my blogs or even how frequently/how many blogs of mine anyone out there has read up until this point in time...but for the very few who may be familiar with the different topics I write about, you may have noticed I sometimes write about my work as a therapist.

Sometimes I'm sure I come off as sounding quite bipolar when it comes to my worklife. There are times when I'm totally annoyed, livid, frustrated and a whole other slew of negative thoughts and emotions I go through when it comes to my experiences with certain clients. And then the next blog you might read from me I'll switch to an experience that is quite the opposite: compassionate, fun, joyful, insightful, meaningful, passionately making a difference through my caring role.

I have struggled with whether to write about only the good, positive experiences for fear or anxiety of not being understood and/or judged by those readers who cannot comprehend the private professional world I inhabit...but I can't do that. It wouldn't be authentic. Just like my therapy with clients wouldn't be authentic if I didn't see a representation of the most interesting, positive experiences all the way to the most dreadful ones. I never thought I'd hear myself say this as I type this out now, but I'm glad for the entire continuum because I can appreciate the richness of it that much more. Especially with sessions like the one I just experienced today.

I forgot how wonderful it feels to make a difference in someone's life, to know that I may be one of the few (maybe even only person) who gets to listen to someone's life story.....the journey that brought them from some horrificly dark place to a place of amazing resilience, inner growth, and change. I'm in awe to be a part of the overall process. It also reminds me of my own resilience as a person.

This morning an interesting, smart, high functioning new client of mine stepped in my office at 7:20 am and didn't walk out until 8:45am...the longest session I've EVER had with anyone. I couldn't believe everything that he went through to get to where he is now (he's great now, sober, stable, insightful) as he gave me a detailed account of what led him down a dark path of depression, addiction, and relationships with others gone bad. He didn't give any excuses or lies (I have a great inner lie detector test for picking up BS when I hear it so I know he wasn't lying); he was very honest and sincere as he spoke about such intimate experiences.

I felt honored that he was talking to me so very candidly about all of it and I strangely wondered if I weren't his therapist if we could have been friends in different life circumstances. I know that sounds weird, but that is honestly what I think and feel. It is what can make my job so surreal at times because when it comes down to it, it is a very 'human' job.

When people connect and bond with you on the most intimate things about their lives, how can you not be somehow affected on a personal level....to be able to relate something about that person to something you have thought and/or felt yourself? That was one thing I was never truly taught in graduate school. There was always SO much focus on "What's going on with the client?"....that there was little focus on thinking about the other side of the coin: "What's going on with the therapist (in relation to the client)?" But then again, it's not something that can be taught I suppose; it has to be experienced firsthand.

I feel like I'm rambling, but basically what I'm trying to say is how much I love my work as a therapist. It's a love hate relationship, but when it's in the 'love' phase....wow, amazing.

I love when I'm respected and appreciated as a role in a client's life. I love the meaningfulness of making a difference. At my current job, I rarely have these overwhelming good feeling moments due to the more 'rough around the edges' nature of the drug addicted population, but there are some clients here and there I truly enjoy working with and it gives me the reassurance that I'm following my bliss and passion as a therapist.

A part of me is starting to have a really hard time with knowing how to terminate my relationship with clients in the next month. They don't know that I'm moving yet and I feel such a tremendous amount of guilt and sadness, dreading the day I will have to individually tell each one (more so the ones who are my favorites/feel the most rapport with) that I am leaving. In my mind I logically know I can and will 'let go' in a professional way, but in my heart it is more difficult. It's a professional relationship, but it's still a relationship. I secretly wish I could just scoop up all the ones I really like and take them to Washington with me so I can continue working with them. I'm honestly going to miss some of them.

Being a therapist leaves me feeling a little bipolar sometimes and yet, I wouldn't want it any other way. You have to have a little craziness in you to be a therapist, so go ahead...call me crazy. I'll take it as the highest compliment. Because I am.

Should punishment last a lifetime?

Writing this blog will probably stir more questions than answers, but I'm going to write about it nonetheless since it's an interesting topic on my mind today.

What is the statute of limitations on shame, remorse, and forgiveness vs. forget on something most people would consider morally wrong? Does it depend on whether the heinous actions have affected a small scale or a large scale of humanity? (ie, "a threat to one is a threat to all mentality)

If someone has put in the sincere and honest effort towards behavioral rehabilitation and overall positive changes within oneself, is that what should be the determining factor? How do we really know for sure if he/she IS honest and sincere? And is it really up to us humans to decide or that of one's personal god(s), karma, spirituality and/or ethics,etc. specific to the individual who has committed the morally reprehensible crime? Do we give someone the benefit of the doubt or do we never trust them (or at least quite the same) again?

Here's what made me think of all this.....

The past few years I have been working with a man who has been consistently sober, but continues to struggle with a bad choice he made under the influence of drugs: sexually molesting a minor, hence permanently deeming him with the scarlet letter of 'Sex Offender,' a virtual lifelong 'prison sentence' if you will.

As I have talked with him extensively about it over the course of the past two years, I know that he has successfully completed his time in prison, including a 6 month rehabilitation program while there. His treatment in prison consisted of 'shaming,' a cognitive-behavioral interventions that has the offender write down the offense committed on a chalkboard for all to see. The offender must then ACT OUT what he did in front of treatment therapists and other fellow sexual offenders in a group setting.

I have learned quite a bit about the thoughts and feelings experienced by a recovering sex offender by frequently talking candidly and in depth with this individual about it. While I do not know for sure if he has reoffended (because I only know what he's like in our sessions), my overall intuition gives me a strong feeling that he has honestly rehabilitated himself. Perhaps he represents a small percentage of nonrecidivism, I don't know, but this is such a difficult issue to address in society. A cut and dry solution doesn't seem like a solution.

How does one balance the overall concern for the community without alienating the constitutional rights of the individual...especially if he/she hasn't given justifiable reason to be treated as if still committing crimes?

I asked him if he thinks he will ever reach a point in his life where he won't be reminded every day of this one particular bad decision he made and commended him for his strength to cope with such judgment and harrassment from various sectors in the community (ie, he receives harrassing phone calls once a week from an unknown caller, forcing him to have the number blocked,etc). He told me that he hopes one day he will not have to be reminded of it and that it helps having people (like me) who support him through his continual treatment services.

It truly is a Catch 22. I'm not one to condone when a 'wrong' has been done, but at the same time, if someone shows true remorse and a willingness to change, who are we to say he/she cannot be a different person and make choices that will be more positive? Hmmmm. All I know is that I don't ever want to become so pessimistic that I feel myself giving up on the virtues of humanity. On the other hand, I don't want to be nieve either.

Keeping a fine balance between compassion and judgment is one of the hardest things to do....

My dearest Chicago,

Our relationship seems to be coming to a quickly approaching end. While the last few years have been a mixture of 'love and hate,' I'm going to miss you. It's easier to remember the things I don't like about you....until I'm reminded of what it is I do love about you. This past weekend showed me just that, my feelings for you truly bittersweet. I don't even know where to start, but here goes....

I was a scared 24 year old when you stepped into my life. Full of hope and excitement with the possibilities you could give me, I stepped into the unknown of our relationship. I didn't how it would turn out, if you would be right for me. Of course, there's been hard times, but that's to be expected with any relationship. Overall, I can't help but reflect how much you've given me, loved me, changed me oh Chicago. You gave me the opportunity to learn at a phenomenal graduate school, intellectually and professionally. You gave me the encouragement and strength to become adventurous, more independent...a bold risk taker. You made me proud to be who I am, always challenging me to become more than I thought I could ever be....especially since I have become a therapist with the first professional job you gave me.

You introduced me to different cultures, lifestyles, and interesting people. And anytime a good friend I'd met left our little circle for another, you presented the opportunity for me to newer and even more rich, satisfying friendships with others over the course of our time together. I've enjoyed your beauty and diversity, as well as the spontaneity you've brought to my life. Most importantly, you've helped me grow so much. I never knew you could give me incredible strength of character, to exude such strong self-confidence. I know I'll be sad when I leave you, but know this much is true: The places you've taken me are priceless. No one can or shall replace how special you've been to me the last six years. I will spend my lifetime pondering the memories of us. Thank you my dear Chicago. I love you and don't worry....I will come back to visit you.

Love always,
Katie


"It's kinda like when you go on a vacation. You plan everything out, but then one day you make a wrong turn or take a detour. And you end up in some crazy place you can't even find on the map, doing something you never thought you'd do. Maybe you feel a little lost while it's happening, but later you realize it was the best part of the whole trip."
--Josh Charles' character Eddy in "Threesome"(1994)