You three with me

Relentless yet futile are my efforts, I hope you will one day see
The effect you men have on me when I go out of my way to be

....the parent, roles reversed
Will it always be this way?
Is awareness enough or am I truly cursed?
I yearn for the day
It doesn't feel rehearsed

....the friend, years pass and I still can't figure out
Why I care as much as I do
The scare only gave me more doubt
Made it quite clear to you
I'm your friend to the end...that's what I'm about
But what you feel for me I haven't a clue.

....the one for you, you're my ideal
Wish I could turn back time
If we'd met years before now, it could have been real
Friends and lovers, a passion sublime
Instead I feel shitty for wanting to steal
Your heart's not mine...feels like an emotional crime
But can I heal?

You three with me.

You three with me.

Therapist to therapy?

Every so often (increasingly so lately) I contemplate whether to seek a therapist and start my own process of psychotherapy, especially the more I talk to my my coworkers about it (one of which told me today that every therapist should/would greatly benefit from having their own therapy). The more questions that flood my mind, however, the longer it takes me to make a decision....

I've been in therapy, but not since I've actually become a therapist myself. I've often wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of proverbial couch/chair, wondered mainly if it would feel any different or better than my experiences as the client throughout my childhood and adolescence. I vaguely remember my mom taking me to see a counselor when I was between 8-10 years old. Looking back, I don't remember what I talked about with the counselor....but I do remember feeling comfortable and emotionally safe in the therapist's office.

I don't think I saw another psychotherapist again until I was in my late teens...a hypnotherapist actually. I think that was a one-time visit...hypnosis to help me work through a traumatic experience from my childhood that was still bothering me. I was skeptical at first, but it was quite powerful and helpful.

There was also family counseling in my teens and a few times in my early 20's, with my parents and stepparents. I absolutely loathed the family counseling sessions. I always felt more angry and frustrated after a family therapy session than I ever did before stepping into the therapist's office. I never felt heard or understood. I was the 'scapegoat.' It was like one big bitchfest, going around in circles arguing with no resolution.

I had my share of shitty therapy experiences (ie, family counseling) and yet instead of turning me off to therapy, it steered me in the direction (ie, MA degree in Marriage and Family Counseling) of wanting to help people with the very issue no one could help me (in an intelligent and compassionate way) during those years. I remember one time a therapist even subtly questioned my sexual orientation simply because I wasn't dating anyone. Really?!

I've always been one (from a very early age) to overanalyze, question everything, reflect, stretch myself to learn/grow and aim for self-awareness...to reach my full potential. Fortunately for my nerdy and curious personality, I've become my own therapist in some ways by reading things or pushing beyond my comfort zone with situations that are conducive to awareness....to change things about myself that are keeping me stuck. Most of the time this has been tremendously beneficial to me. With where I'm at in my life right now though, I wonder if I need more than that.

Not too long ago I asked one of my clients how she would know when she was done with therapy (ie, how would she know that she was better/reached her potential and thus not need therapy anymore). Her response? "When I no longer need to ask a question that I wouldn't ask a friend." There was something I found interesting and true about that response. I find myself contemplating this, yet on the other end....do I need therapy because I have questions that I can't ask (and get insights/solutions from about my problem) a friend? Maybe. Do I have a need to divulge some issues that are troubling me on a regular basis that I can't figure out how to change? Absolutely.

I have made positive changes in myself this year of which I'm proud and confident. A part of me wants to go even further with this possibility of therapy, yet another part of me is hesitant. What if no matter how much self-awareness I have and how much effort I put in to change my men/relationship/heartache challenges....and I'm still in the same boat (single and alone) as I am now?

My biggest concern is disappointment....disappointment that perseverance won't bring me any further to a better place than not trying.

Is it better to try therapy with the possibility of no positive tangible results? Or is it better to keep questioning things and doing the best you can with no help from anyone (ie, no therapist) other than your own self-improvement sensibilities?

Hmmm. Decisions, decisions (says the therapist to herself)....

The influx of change

It's one thing to hear cliches about change (ie, "The only constant is change," "We are creatures of comfort/no one really likes change" or "Even positive/exciting changes can be scary")....but it's far more difficult to embrace when you're actually living and breathing said change (and multiple changes at that!) in your day to day life. I have found myself coming up with my own 'mantras' to help me cope (see below), as there have been numerous changes going on at my workplace in the span of one month's time!

Here's 'a taste' of the changes: Significant increase in caseload, less time to see clients more frequently for counseling because there's too many clients to juggle, program manager and supervisor retired, no boss yet, a colleague left/took a new job, a new outside consultant to do more intensive case conceptualization/supervision with us therapists, and a restructuring of counseling programs (ie, program I'm in will be split into two programs and this includes not working with a few of my coworkers anymore once the split officially happens). I can't remember a time I have ever felt this many huge changes going on simultaneously.

We (human beings) resist change so much, sometimes even going so far into denial as to believe "People don't change" or "As much as things change, they stay the same." While this can certainly apply, I see more change than I do stagnancy. Granted, it's not always HUGE changes like the aforementioned work transitions I just mentioned that are going on in my life....but change is there if you have a keen awareness to pick up on the subtleties.

There's the "it happened so suddenly!" changes, the "I see it slowly coming, so I'm going to try and prepare for it" changes, the "I'm ready to/will change this....but not change that just yet" changes, and the "I know things are going to change, but I don't want to think about it right now" changes. Even feeling "stuck" or "resistant" is just a way to help give us more time to think about it. Maybe it's not about being lazy, fearful, or not wanting to change. Given that change is inevitable, sometimes we just need that 'brainstorming' time or time to 'just be' in the moment. Or time to reflect on how change will create a new life, identity, or way of being.

Interestingly, going through change oneself can also impact the dynamic between what you 'role model' to others (ie, practice what you preach....for me it's in the form of my being a great, effective therapist with my clients). In a weird way, the work changes have brought me 'closer' to my clients....an understanding and compassion for their own anxiety about how to work through stuff and their process of change, as well as having compassion for myself as I practice grounding myself and helping them by also helping myself from a place of peaceful calm.

What else helps get me through the influx of change? Every day one or more of the following statements come to my mind:

"One day at a time."
"Breathe"(followed by me taking in deep breaths)
"This will get easier/won't last forever."
"Easy does it."
"Just do what you can; there's no rush to do everything today."
"Take pleasure and gratitude in the simple things that make you laugh, smile, and that give you the endurance to keep going during this hard stuff."
"Rest and slow down if you're tired."
"Remember, you are making a difference with the work you do...even if the intensity of your therapy work with trauma survivors is rarely acknowledged/seemingly appreciated."
"Self care, self care, self care."

I also keep coming back to this amazing quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson:
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."

Absolutely.

The psychology of dreams

Dreams have long fascinated me. I remember in my pre to early teen years, I had this recurring dream about being inside of a building (usually a grocery/convenience store and one time it was a car dealership) and knowing that it was about to get robbed. It wasn't a recurring dream in the sense that it was the same exact dream, but more so the same theme/feelings I felt and similiar subjects/scenarios going on. It still piques my curiosity to this day what those dreams were about. If only I had kept a journal and recorded what was going on with me at the time, maybe I could have truly analyzed what those recurring dreams were all about. (They were the only recurring dreams I have had in my lifetime thus far, hence why I wish I could figure out the meaning, haha)

I've been pondering dreams quite a bit in the past few weeks, particularly after having a dream about a friend of mine. There were actually several random people (including a few other friends) in the dream, but what stood out to me was my friend Scott. In "real" life he has short hair and is pretty much a tshirt and jeans kinda guy. In this particular dream, he had long bushy spiral curled hair that extended down to his waist. He had 60's style/psychedelic spectacles on and looked like a hippie character out of the movie "Almost Famous." In the dream I remember thinking, "Is that Scott?! That guy doesn't look like Scott....but I know it's him because I recognize his face is the same." The only thing that would make that moment more perfect is if I could somehow photograph the 'scene.' How awesome would it be to be able to actually record our dreams (whether as a 'movie' or a photograph)?! Who knows, the way technology is progressing....maybe one day it will be a reality!

I told my friend about this dream and from there a conversation ensued about the unique aspects of dreams. Dreams that later give you those deja vu moments in waking life....dreaming from different angles/perspectives (like flying in dreams, dreaming in first person vs. third person, or dreaming from the perspective of an animal).

Before learning more about the intricacies of dreams in some of my grad school classes, I had not realized just how many possibilities there are for what a dream can actually 'look like.' For instance, some people are more apt to dream in black and white (particularly those serving in the military or people who have to tendency to think in a linear fashion) than color. Then there are those who dream in a language different from their waking life.

It also didn't occur to me until now that not everyone dreams from the first person. I've never seen myself in a dream because I'm either there "participating" in the dream (feeling like the dream is actually 'real life') or it feels like I'm watching scenes from a movie with other people in my dream in which I'm not "there." It makes me wonder how many people dream from the third person. What's that like?

Aloneness and the 'invisible'

Loneliness and aloneness may not necessarily go hand in hand. You can be alone and content. You can also be lonely and disappointed in a room full of others...or in a particular relationship. I don't know about anyone else, but when I was younger (and less wise than I am now) I falsely believed that the opposite of aloneness was the key to love and happiness....that in togetherness there could be no loneliness. So why is it that as an adult I see more loneliness connected to relationships than to being alone? Is it because society wants us to hold on to these skewed beliefs and keep us dependent on relationships to falsely 'fulfill' our wants and needs? I partially think so. But to what extent are our wants and needs truly being met when it comes to relationships vs. in aloneness?

The media, the government, religious dogma, and other social institutions indoctrinate us into believing that you cannot do it (ie, live your life) alone....and if you do, it will be a long and difficult ("lonely") road. As someone who lives her life 'alone,' I can attest it can be more difficult in some ways....BUT I also must add that I feel less loneliness by myself than I feel when interacting with or having relationships with others. It may sound strange, but the loneliness I feel when I'm in some way 'invisible' to a friend, family member, lover, or colleague is incredibly stronger than any kind of loneliness I could feel sitting in my apartment in my own company. What do I mean by 'invisible?'

"Invisible" is when you are communicating with or in the company of a friend, family member, lover, or colleague and not once in your interaction were you asked (from a place of thoughtfulness or meaningfulness) how/what things are going on in your life, your thoughts or feelings (about anything really), or your own wants and needs in life. "Invisible" is when the other person talks and talks and talks (usually about him/herself), not giving you a chance to contribute to the conversation or steer the conversation to something more worthwhile. "Invisible" is something I feel when others don't notice when I drop off the radar from time to time (ie, when I don't post anything online, call, or text). "Invisible" is incredible loneliness I feel when I'm upset and want to find comfort in a conversation with a friend, but the friend doesn't return my call nor comprehend the depths of my emotional pain to even bother responding. "Invisible" is how I sometimes feel being surrounded by people who are married and/or who have children when the spotlight is on married and family life (there's no opportunity to be in the spotlight when you're a childless, single woman in her 30's).

No matter how much quantity time we may spend with others we care about, how much of that time do we really see or take the time to really know (and furthermore, understand) the other person? How much of our conversations embody genuine intimacy, a peek into the essence of our deeper selves? When it is intimate, how often is there opportunity for the intimacy to be two-sided (both individuals getting a chance to share something about themselves)? It seems like there's too much 'blah, blah, blah' and superficial chatter. Most people have no problem 'taking' in their relationships, yet few can master the art of giving and listening.

As long as this continues to be the norm, I will continue to prefer being alone to being in the company of any lonely (aka "invisible") relationship.

PS....I absolutely love this video "How to Be Alone." This sums up (to me anyway) the positive aspects of being alone, perfectly and succinctly.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs

To have or not have children?

You may recall a few months ago I wrote a blog about post-partum friendships (ie, how my friendships with friends have changed since they've become mothers). Well, this blog is a followup/sequel to that blog. I've had all sorts of thoughts running through my mind since I took a trip last week to see a close friend of mine (who is now a mom to a 10 month old).

It's one thing to intellectualize a concept; it's quite another to observe or experience it firsthand. While I once appreciated when friends would candidly tell me their pregnancy and motherhood experiences (the good, the bad, the ugly, and even the gross), I now am starting to resent knowing more than I want to know. "Why's that?" you're probably wondering. Well, as the cliche so succinctly puts it....Ignorance can be more blissful. The more I know about what comes with parenthood, the less appeal it has for me.

Up until a week ago, I never thought about whether or not I would have children someday. Let me rephrase that. I can't remember there ever being a time when I asked myself if I didn't want to be a mother at some point in my lifetime. I blindly accepted that as something I wanted for myself without ever really thinking deeply about all it entails.....especially those first 12 months of the child's life. What's funny is that the last few years I have been worrying about my biological clock, wondering how much 'time I have left' to find the guy and then create the kid. Now that anxiety seems to be disappearing....

While staying at my friend's house for 5 days, I witnessed two very sleep deprived, loving and nurturing parents as they tended to their 10 month old son's various needs. I got tired just watching them! I honestly wondered how they could do it....24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I realize it takes more work in the beginning because a baby is totally dependent on you for everything, but it really had me wondering if I could (or would really want to) make that kind of lifetime commitment/responsibility. I know there are amazing things to parenthood, so I'm not bashing it or anything. I just don't know if it's for me. Or maybe I would feel differently if I had a great husband to share the parenting. It's just hard to conceptualize. Then again, maybe I'm wasting my time.

Maybe it's futile to intellectualize the experience of being a parent because if all human beings did so, the human race might not continue reproducing at all. haha. I don't know. All I do know is that whenever I find the right guy out there that I'm meant to be with for the long haul, I don't want to rush into having a child and 'lose' my significant other before I ever really had him. There are things I want to experience with Future Husband (for instance, traveling together around the world comes to mind as one example) that would be difficult to do with a child in the picture. Perhaps I may decide to be a mother one day, but I also may not.

What I've gleaned from my recent experience with my friend and her 10 month old child is that I don't have to buy into what everyone else is doing just because they're doing it. I can have my own perceptions and realizations, my own desires. I can come to my own conclusions...even if that means following the beat of a much different drum...just doing my own thing. Whatever that may be at the moment.

A 'death' I could never stop grieving

Tonight I came across an article that troubled me....although it wasn't the actual subject matter that bothered me; my concerns ran deeper. As I read about Barnes and Noble's recent decision to "put itself up for sale" this month, I nearly cringed when I saw this sentence: "My hunch is that B&N never really embraced the Internet or e-books, tied as it was to the old-fashioned world of physical books and stores."

I could care less what happens to a corporate bookstore, but what I do care about is the future of 'physical books.' My concern is that with such rapid advances and trends in technology, there may come a day when physical books become obsolete. And if that day comes, that may bring with it a grief I may not be able to bear.

This may sound bizarre to most people, but books are more than just mere physical objects to me. I have a relationship to books that few people could probably understand.

From a very young age, I spent a considerable amount of time occupying myself with books. While I couldn't always count on people, books were one of the few constants in my life. I knew I was loved....but my family members always had so much going on with their lives that oftentimes I felt invisible. Books were a friendly comfort and escape from the loneliness I felt so much of the time (Interestingly, both my grandfather and my mother loved books/reading.....so in a weird way, I also felt a little more connected to them with this shared passion.)

With books, I could dive into a whole other world of people, places, and possibilities. I could pretend I was the center of attention. I could be the heroine. I could empathize with the characters and their struggles. Sometimes it even seemed like a book was specifically written just for me, as if the writer could somehow get inside my head like no one in my 'real life' ever could.

If you were to ask me about a particular book I've read, most of the time I can recall a very vivid memory attached to the book....whether that be where I was while reading a particular book, a book reminding me of a particular person/relationship or time in my life, what year I read the book, what was going on in my life at the time while reading the specific book, and my interests/curiosity (in life, genres, topics/issues).

Throughout my life, books have been an extension of myself....my personality, my identity. They are a reflection of the very heart and soul of me. They have also been my closest and dearest companions. With books, I feel connected to myself and the world at large more than I ever have with just people or words on a computer screen.

Online books don't provide meaningfulness, symbolism, or unique memories. You can't smell the newness or oldness of an online book. You can't touch the pages and take a trip down memory lane in your mind. You can't place it on your real bookshelf. There's just something very sacred and intimate about 'old fashioned' books.

If there's ever a day in the future where 'real' actual books become obsolete, I don't know that I would be able to handle it....a 'death' I could never stop grieving.

Opening Up (book review)

Working in the counseling profession, I wanted to learn/educate myself on the topic of open relationships (something I knew hardly anything about), so I decided to read "Opening Up: Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships" by Tristan Taormino.

While it was challenging for me to wrap my head around some of the complex issues connected to the subject of open relationships, I found this book to be articulately well-written and informative. I learned quite a bit and it challenged me to examine negative assumptions (based on my ignorance) I previously held about this particular subject. I still don't understand it completely, but this book helped me to know what it entails and how to help others (such as my clients) explore if it is a lifestyle they wish to pursue for themselves.

Totally recommend this book to clinicians in the counseling field, as well as the everyday person who wants (or is curious about) open relationships. Having an open mind, however, is essential to reading this book. Prepare for your preconceived cultural perceptions of monogamy vs. nonmonogamy to be questioned, maybe even shattered...

Culture of a city

(Photo at left taken by me: Fremont Solstice Parade, June 2009)

I got to thinking about this last night while chatting online with a friend (after telling him about something I've noticed about the city in which I reside). It dawned on me that prevalent cultural interests or trends aren't just specific to countries or even just regions....they can extend to cities as well. I can only speak to the city I am getting to know quite well, but so far it has me wondering how the culture of a city can influence one's personality ( a city as being more liberal vs. conservative, friendly vs. standoffish, earth conscious vs. wasteful/toxic, intelligent vs. dumbed down...and the list goes on and on). How much more (or less) inhibited may we become in regard to self-expression depending on where we are living?

In the time I have lived in Seattle thus far, I have seen, heard, and done things I had not done before while living in Chicago...mainly because Seattle has presented cultural opportunities not offered in Chicago. Before I moved, I perceived Seattle to be a city very much like Chicago...at least in regard to the liberal arts, intelligence, education,etc. But after having lived here two years, I am noticing how very very liberal it is here....so much so that it almost makes Chicago look like a prude city.

Since living here, I have gone to a solstice parade (which includes a feature of naked cyclists). I have observed marijuana to be a staple 'crop,' including in brownies. There's the annual celebration of HempFest. I have been to an erotic arts festival. I have gone dancing at an all lesbian bar/club. I am also starting to learn about a widespread popularity in the alternative lifestyle of "polyamory" (which I really need to learn more about for my work with clients who are into this just to understand its concepts and practices). I recycle because it's expected here. I'm surrounded by people who love, respect and spend oodles of time in nature (national parks, beaches, mountains). I've also noticed a majority of the population here has a better vocabulary than anywhere else I've lived. Even a 12 year old the other day used the word "offensive" while conversing with me (I almost fell out of my chair in proud astonishment)! These are all things I never even remotely came across while living in another major city.

Last weekend when I was dancing with my friend, I told her that I had a feeling Seattle would bring out my confidence/take away my inhibitions. She didn't seem to think it had anything to do with Seattle.....but I do. When you're surrounded by very very liberal people (for someone who is already of a liberal mindset, like myself), what's the likelihood that you're going to become very very conservative? Not likely. You either find yourself drawn to the norm, or you stay away from it.

Who I am won't change completely, but the aspects of myself that are yearning to be expressed? The culture of this city may just make it all the more likely.

*ADVENTURE*

(Photo at left taken by me: Alki Beach in Seattle, June 2010)

Do you ever wish you could go back to a time in your life when things felt more exciting, full of adventure, spontaneity, and just a hint of crazy goodness? Does a certain place bring this out in us or is it a sign of youth vs. getting older?

What if we are capable of being adventurous, and just choose to or not to be?

I have been pondering this quite a bit lately. Most recently, I was thinking that my life has been feeling pretty boring since I moved to Seattle and chalked it up to mainly not having formed solid friendships in the area thus far....as well as being at a different place in my life than most of my friends (ie, most are married and having/had kids). But now I'm starting to feel it goes beyond that.

I realized last night (while I was having an experience new to me) that perhaps it has more to do with being presented with and/or seizing opportunities that have the capacity to allow one's adventurous side to reveal itself. Maybe it's also about finding other people who we can push our comfort zones with to try new things with an adventurous spirit.

I could be wrong, but it has been my observation that this is a rare quality I have come across (or rather, not come across) in people I know, have relationships with,etc. Or if I do know people who have this capability, they're not being transparent about it. I told my friend June last night she's the only adventurous person I have met (so far) since I moved to Seattle. While I can certainly cultivate my own adventurous side by myself, there's something to be said about the dynamic being stronger when you're with another person/group to really draw this out...or so I feel.

Why aren't more people pursuing the intriguing thrill of the unknown, that juicy part of life that connects us to something deeper and can reveal to ourselves the magnitude of our confidence, our sensual/erotic side, our inner growth? Are people that afraid to learn about the mysteries of life, the "taboos," themselves? If this is the case, how incredibly sad. I am grateful I am not this way, if this really is the case.

When I was younger, I used to yearn for a sense of belonging. I never fit in with popular social circles in school...or even in my own family (I felt like the displaced/invisible family member starting at a very young age). There were a myriad of aspects in which I always felt different.

I was never thin or athletic. I was never a fashionista or a girly girl (though can't say I ever wanted to be anyway, hahaha). I was the new girl at school more often than I'd have liked, moving frequently during my formative years. I was a bookworm. I listened and observed. I loved learning. I was open-minded. I yearned to really know people beyond the surface level. I couldn't understand why people engaged in small talk (boring!!!!) rather than more worthwhile topics of conversation. I more often than not felt frustrated, depressed, and angry that I couldn't find people that shared some of these qualities that made me so unique/"cursed."

It is only with the eyes of a 32 year old that I can smile with gratitude for these early experiences. For what was once a curse is now an absolute blessing. I don't want to belong anymore. Paradoxically, I find myself yearning for and seeking out experiences that will bring out that very feeling in me...but in a liberating and confident way.

The way I see it, how much can we learn about the world and ourselves if we surround ourselves with the status quo, with dogma? How can we know our inner world if our outer environment is routine and stagnant?

If we are curious about something we know nothing about and have some anxiety about doing/learning about it simply because it is completely foreign to us (or maybe there is a fear of what other people will think of us), this is likely a sign to explore the unknown. Learn about yourself. You may be pleasantly surprised and refreshed with what you discover. I think society and the media drill such fear into us, playing out stereotypes and negativity. Why does something thrilling, exciting, bold, juicy, and adventurous have to be perceived as "bad", "dark," "crazy," "dangerous," or just generally "threatening?" God forbid, we should encourage people to think for themselves and really know those secret/deeper aspects of themselves....

Without such new and unknown experiences, I wouldn't know how confident and comfortable I have become in my skin. I wouldn't know just how little I genuinely care what other people think of me when it comes to me not compromising who I am at the expense of having relationships with others. I wouldn't know what freedom and independence feels like. I wouldn't know how to transcend my fears, my preconceived judgments, my ignorance. I wouldn't truly know how capable I am of 'holding my own' in divergent situations and relationships. I wouldn't discover fun and intriguing things I now want to try that I didn't even realize I wanted to try in the past!

Without them, I wouldn't feel truly alive.

The In Between Crisis

There's the teen angst phase, the quarter-life crisis, and the midlife crisis. But what about the crisis that comes between one's 20's and 40's....thirty-somethings who experience something of a cross between the two (ie, the 20something's feeling of not knowing what's in store for the future, yet the 40something's feeling that your life is starting to feel like a succession of boring moments and monotony)?

Is there a name for the thirty-something who experiences THIS kind of life stage crisis? Granted, we can't expect our lives to always be exploding with excitement....but when you can't remember the last time you felt even a modicum of adventure and crazy spontaneity, what does that reflect about your inner and outer life?

I remember reading something in grad school about how there are two Chinese characters for the word 'crisis,' one representing 'danger' and the other 'opportunity.' If we have a choice in how to respond when a 'crisis' presents itself in our lives, how do we embrace 'opportunity' in lieu of the unwanted alternative?

Post-partum friendships: the great divide

Every time a close female friend of mine is pregnant/has a baby, I get to thinking about what I have come to experience in an almost textbook way....what I shall call 'the great divide.'

Let's rewind to the days when my close female friends were single, even just newly married. There was once long conversations ranging from witty to serious, covering anything from worldly topics to mundane, silly, or idiotic stuff we've done. We would hang out, laugh, drink, and just generally...bond.

When my friends started getting married, it was weird enough to think of them as 'married.' It seemed like there was this invisible wall that separated single me from the coupled 'them.' It took some adjustment, but eventually I felt less of a sense of segregation the more friends I saw getting married. Perhaps it also made a difference that marriage didn't seem to change their personality much.

Pregnancy and motherhood, however, is a whole different ballpark. I feel awful for saying this, but I secretly have this weird sense of both happiness and sadness when I find out a friend is pregnant. I'm happy for my friend, without a doubt. From all that I've ever heard and observed, motherhood is this powerful and amazing experience. I even want to know the experiences my friend is having in her pregnancy, what it's like and welcome being an 'auntie' of sorts to this future child with excitement.

At the same time, my friendships are never the same after a child is in the picture. In a way, it's like my friend has "died." No longer is there hanging out, nor long conversations (if any at all) or shared experiences. I used to think maybe there was a part of me that was jealous, but I realized I wasn't....well, at least not jealous of having a baby. The thought of giving birth to a child still frightens the bejesus out of me.

What I'm jealous of is the feeling that I'm missing out on a shared collective experience amongst my female friends who are mothers. They start gravitating (and naturally/understandably so) towards their female friends who DO have kids/are mothers. They swap pregnancy and motherhood stories, a unique bonding all its own. Since I don't meet that criteria, I am not given a second glance. In a way, it feels like an elite members only country club. Sometimes I wonder if it would feel differently if I were also married and expecting....

The more life stages/roles that aren't parallel to a friend's, it's my experience that the more distant our friendship becomes. It's sad to think that the power of bonding in my female friendships is strongly dependent upon shared life experiences. Given that I'm single and childless, I'm shit out of luck because I have no way to 'catch up' and salvage the kind of bond I had once before with these women.

I will always love my friends (child or no child), but I can't deny 'the great divide' exists even if it's the elephant in the room that no one wants to admit is certainly the reality in post-partum friendships. What's worse is that I can never tell my friends this because I don't think they would understand....just as I don't understand how this little human being has changed their world so drastically as to make my interactions with them feel less meaningful than they were pre-partum. They also might think I'm being selfish. And maybe I am, but why shouldn't I be when (at this stage of my life) my friends are all I've got?

I wonder if single men feel the same way in their friendships with men who are fathers. Maybe. But probably not (just my hunch). Sometimes I wish I were a man. I'm sure no guy is brooding about this topic on a blog after 10:00 on a Saturday night....

A man's fateful poison

(A poem I wrote, June 10, 2005)

He drowns in a pitch black park of familiar faces just to escape his own

Cannot feel except the damp tears drying on his sunken cheeks

He tightens his grip on the liquid eraser that promises at least six hours of blurry vision, but not enough hours in the night to help him forget the finality of someone who was gone long before his death.

"He didn't hit me or anything. He just didn't care."

Then you wished he hit you instead, as if violence were a warped way of showing he cared and loved you.

He thinks death follows him. Who could be next?

The grim reaper creeps behind him, hiding his face behind a morbid glare.

Reluctant and heavy with sorrow, he keeps from his world those who could be close.

If not for the fear of the black hooded creature taking away the only ones that matter

He might be able to take off his own armor....

"I Remember..."

(An excerpt from one of my journals, June 2005....this was an exercise suggested in a creative writing book to help jog memories of your life)

I remember our annoying loud bird Fred (Dad was surprised I remember him and says I have a "good memory") and I remember biting into a small donut that turned out to be a rumball when I was 11 or 12---I spit it out! I remember talking on the phone with my grandmother and having to pee so bad by the time I was able to get off the phone with her because she liked to talk for so long!

I remember my first unofficial job at 15 at the Dairy Queen in North Carolina and turning the banana filled blizzard upside down and it spilling all over the counter because no one told me you can't turn the ones with bananas in them upside down (no thick consistency to hold it together). I remember feeling grateful that Mom took us away from Derry, New Hampshire (aka Hicktown, USA) to live in other places to give Alex and I perspective in life.

I remember helping Nicole push her car down the hill around the corner to the gas station when the car completely ran out of gas. I remember Nicole and I driving over to a cemetary in San Marcos after we watched the creepy "What Lies Beneath" at the movie theater. I remember Skip brushing his teeth every day after lunch when I worked at the computer lab in the Health building at SWT.

I remember giving a poem to Anita that I had written to put on her boyfriend Dave's car that he ended up liking very much. I remember getting pizza sauce on my dress when Dad took me to Papa Gino's when I was probably 5 or 6 in Derry and we didn't want Mom to find out because she'd be mad. I don't know if she did....

I remember Todd loving the poem I wrote about his daughter Brittney. I remember how boring of a date my "fantasy" high school crush was, how reality shattered the more intriguing illusion.

I remember speaking in front of everyone at my grandfather's funeral, but I can't remember what I said. I remember my former stepfather and I sitting at a table at Lake Travis in Austin discussing my fear that he would never talk to me again once he started his new life in England with Debbie (the woman he fucked on a kitchen table apparently) and how he said "that won't happen"....and it did.

I remember how excited and scared I felt when I was about to "drop" from the high in the air freefall ride at Great America last summer with the Rice crew. I remember Keith from Rice asking me if I thought he was "smart and handsome" and wanting to laugh at how he asked me such a question.

I remember reading the first book that changed my life when I was in my apartment on campus at SWT living with my first roomate Kim: "Man's Search for Meaning." I remember one of the few good dates I had was with Chris (church boy) that I worked with at Kroger---lunch at La Madeleine in Kingwood and good conversation. I also remember Christian (also from Kroger) talking about his toe fungus. Why? I guess he thought it would be a turn-on? Sadly mistaken.

Why?

Why is it that when you stop caring what people think, they suddenly respect you or are somewhat drawn to you more than before? Does confidence hold that much power?

Why is it that you can be consistently kind and generous in character towards others, yet be ignored and unappreciated....until one day suddenly these individuals reciprocate with kindness, generosity, and appreciation? You have been the same all along, but perhaps they have changed?

Why do we choose to share what we share with others (about ourselves)? Is there a fine line between telling people too much and not enough? How much of our lives do we compartmentalize to make ourselves look good according to the relationship we have with a particular person (ie, friend, family member, colleague, lover, spouse)? What if how well someone knows us is dictated more by how much interest others show in wanting to really know us on an intimate vs. superficial level?

Why is it that most of the people who say they "love" us barely know the things about us that really matter?

Why do we play into dysfunctional patterns with family members if we know it's dysfunctional? Is it because we would rather deal with the dysfunction than risk the possibility of conflict and not being liked? Or is it because we would rather hold onto idealistic hopes than to see the harsh, honest reality?

Why do we continue to have expectations of others for which not much can be expected?

Why is it that those who admire us most are the ones we usually admire the least?

Why can't people talk significantly less and listen significantly more?

What really dictates our attractions?

Not sure why this occurred to me, but while I was out for a run in my neighborhood earlier I realized my friend Scott is currently one of the few close male (heterosexual) friends that I have not had any kind of sexual dynamic with throughout the course of our 4-5 years of friendship (at the same time, I'm also not a promiscuous woman by any means)....which then had me pondering if this is normal for friendships in the 21st century (ie, sex becoming a dynamic at some point in a friendship between two heterosexual or even two gay friends) OR if this is more the exception.

And I'm not talking about friends with benefits where there's a mutual agreement to engage in casual sex just for the aspect of physical pleasure. That's a whole other topic of discussion. What I'm talking about is specifically in regard to the context of the relationship you have with a friend.

What's funny for me is that male friends I have formed a sexual relationship with (and/or that have turned into a romantic relationship if even for a brief time) have more often than not been guys I didn't initially even desire or think about sexually. But the more I got to know these guys, something would shift or spark an attraction for me.

I remember about a month ago my coworker Sarah was telling my colleagues and I something she read or heard about (I can't remember her source, or if she even knew where she heard this)...a psychological/sociological theory or study that shows we have a tendency to become attracted to individuals simply by seeing or being around them all the time.

So how much of our attraction to a person is based on closeness (ie, being in the same physical environment...or "mental" environment like social networking, chat rooms,etc on a regular basis) vs. physical appearance? Or familiarity (ie, how intimately we know facets of their inner self) vs. someone you don't have much overall contact (physically, mentally, or emotionally)?

And if this is the case, perhaps we are less inclined to be superficial than we may believe we are when it comes to connecting with each other on a very human level...

Memories and the senses

Visual. Auditory. Taste. Touch. Smell. (And the ever elusive/not so concrete "6th" sense, but that's a whole other topic I won't go into here!). I have been pondering the subject of how our memories (and overall daily life experience in general) is significantly impacted by the presence or lack of one or more senses.

Between personal experiences I find myself reflecting on (ie, my memories) and fascinating sensory related conversations with clients over the past two weeks, I find myself ever more aware of just how much we truly depend on our senses....not just to be able to go about our daily tasks, but how our senses can heighten or perhaps diminish a particular experience we have. Senses also influence the way in which we form a memory.

I always used to hate those conversation starters/'what if' questions that would ask "If you had to choose one sense that you could no longer have, what would it be?" because it seemed so hard and impossible to choose. If you say hearing, you never get to hear the sound of laughter or music again. If you choose not to smell things, I would imagine a sense of taste wouldn't be there either...not to mention missing out on the smell of the ocean, flowers, the scent of a lover, a wonderful meal, and so many other things that resonate with comfort, "home," love, happiness,etc. And then there's touch. Who can survive in this life without absolutely no touch of any sort? Psychological studies have shown that babies who have not been touched and nurtured reap negative consequences, emotional deficits,etc.

That leaves us with visual, which also comprises a huge aspect of our identity and emotional experience. Being the very visual creative person (with photography) and analytical (reading and writing) person that I am, I can't even fathom living without my eyesight. So if I ultimately had to choose, I guess I would want my visual sense to be the last to go...but how much of our experiences take up just ONE aspect of all five senses? Very few.

On the contrary, the senses are like slices of pie. When pieces are missing, the pie isn't whole. The absence of one sense may influence other existing senses to be stronger....like hearing things more easily or in a different way if you are blind. I wonder how this extends to something intangible and less concrete though, like memories.

Are we able to still "experience" our memory with our senses that do "work" if we no longer have that sense (in which the memory was originally formed) anymore? Does the memory disappear or just our conscious perception of it? For example,I'm sure you've had that experience of hearing a certain song come on and instantly you're reminded of a certain place or person (visual and auditory memory). Or maybe you travel back to your hometown after being away for several years and seeing certain buildings brings you back to a certain experience you had, the memory of any number of people in the past,etc. If that sense is gone, what happens with that memory (the meaning of the memory, as well as the thoughts and feelings it evokes)? I also wonder if it's harder or easier if you've never had the sense in your lifetime (versus if you've had to adapt after losing it at some point in life).

Back in the fall, I attended an excellent seminar about PTSD and how to help trauma survivors heal from their painful memories. What really struck me as most fascinating out of the whole entire training was learning about how differently memories are stored depending on our developmental stage. Those first few formative years from birth to the toddler years, visual and touch are the most critical in determining how we experience and remember something. Part of the challenge in helping trauma survivors heal is helping them shift a painful memory of something they experienced in a very specific sensory way into a non-threatening way (with or without other senses to create a new meaning?).

See how convoluted this intangible challenge of memory and the senses can be? Regardless, I find this subject incredibly intriguing. I wish I had "answers," but all I can do is ponder and ramble about it. I like that there's no answers though because if I knew, I probably wouldn't be compelled to think about the air of mystery of it all...

The power in choice

Living in a society that feeds on fear and other negative emotions, it can sometimes be easy to slip into a mindset of feeling powerless and hopeless that there is something we can do to change any given situation. What we need to hear more of and bring to our conscious awareness is that while we may not be able to control the conditions of what is going on in our external environment (including how others interact and respond to us)....what we can control is how we (individually) choose to respond when something happens. It is only by having an awareness of our emotional triggers that can allow us to explore these patterns, challenge how they are unhelpful to us, and eventually grow/go forward with a more grounded response. It is possible to have compassion for others (and for ourselves) without judging or allowing ourselves to become easily shifted. You can care about someone, yet also be detached enough to let go and allow them their own experience. Granted, it may not always feel easy to do....but it is entirely possible. I speak from my own experience, as well as being a close witness to this with various people I see every day.

Why do we give others so much power over our own thoughts and feelings? No one has more power over you than you. Ever hear the saying about being your own worst enemy? Perhaps we say so and so "makes me feel like" this, that, or the other because it takes away responsibility from one's own choices. But how can you expect to make changes within yourself if you keep expecting everyone else to change only/first, especially when logically speaking we all know that it's impossible to force someone to change?

Paradoxical as it may sound, taking 100% ownership of your choices increases your confidence, sense of freedom, and the possibility of a healthy, joyful life. This means creating a balance between what you choose to think and what you choose to feel. Ultimately, you can create your own heaven or your own hell right here on Earth (I'm speaking metaphorically and psychologically; this isn't about religion). You can choose to love, forgive, encourage, laugh, and embrace life. You can also choose to be angry, indignant, intolerant, critical, and fearful of things you have absolutely no control over.

So what's it gonna be? Heaven or hell?

Unless you're a therapist....

Unless you're a therapist, you probably haven't had to think about whether your words or body language convey compassion or a false sense of validation when you don't agree with the individual's faulty perceptions of self, other people, and overall worldview. This is especially difficult when a client talks in a judgmental or derogatory manner about someone's sexual orientation, race, creed, culture,etc. Sometimes all I can do is nod my head to acknowledge that I'm listening, yet I wonder if my nodding gives off the impression I agree. It's one thing to challenge someone's unhealthy perceptions, yet I also cannot impose my values and belief system because I would then be judging that person's process of change. You remind yourself that it's their "stuff" that landed them in your office to begin with, thus it's not about you and convincing them to believe something else....but it still doesn't make it an easy task.

Unless you're a therapist, you may never truly know what it's like to get "too much information." Sure, therapists are generally open and receptive to talking about pretty much anything. But must we really be forced to hear someone say that they can't come in for therapy today because they have a yeast infection or my personal favorite, a "runny bowel?" Yet it's the nature of the beast, something they failed to leave off of the therapist job title when you're getting your clinical training in graduate school.

Unless you're a therapist, you might not understand what it's like to be working with an individual consistently for months or years having the same conversations about the same problem over and over again...until one day *poof*....they suddenly (!) make a connection, have an insight and change sinks in. It's a cool thing to witness, yet may sound bizarre in the context of everyday life and interpersonal relationships.

Unless you're a therapist, you might not be as conscious of the sacred nature of absolute trust someone has in you with their deepest and most intimate vulnerabilities. You might not even know what it's like to see a progression in someone's level of trust in you and how meaningful it feels when someone lets you into their private world even more over time or circumstance.

Unless you're a therapist, you may not understand that given all these challenges and idiosyncrasies of the job, we keep wanting to help and find the intangible rewards rich beyond measure.

"I couldn't do what you do," say most people with a sense of awe when they hear you're a therapist.

Perhaps they are right; they couldn't....which only makes me smile, because I can.

The Unknown

Why does the 'unknown' possibilities of future life experience tend to primarily hold a weight of such fear and anxiety for people? Why does one tend to jump to the conclusion that something will be horrible, a failure, humiliating, or that one somehow won't 'rise to the challenge?' Such a mentality leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy. If one never ventures outside of the known, how will one ever truly and intimately know oneself...or the world?

Knowledge can be attained through external and contrived means, while wisdom occurs through integrating both personal experience and intellect on a deeper level. Knowledge may be easier to acquire because it requires less choice; it's more of a one-sided event. It's like doing a research paper. You look up information from various scholarly articles, books, and professional forums. You take notes of what other people say about the subject and put it all together to hopefully form a cogent paper. After the paper has been completed, however, how much of it becomes "part" of you? For me, this is the difference between knowledge and wisdom. A paper full of knowledge is not something I will remember or deeply resonate with in the long-term. Wisdom is different; it has no shelf-life in the recesses of my mind. All else may be taken away from me, but I will always have the wisdom that has meaningfully accrued over the span of my life experiences. As I reflect on those experiences that have provided me the richest wisdom, I can attest it has usually been the result of those 'unknown' moments I chose to embrace rather than hide, flee, or freeze.

Embracing juicy risks in lieu of the comfort of familiarity or status quo....this is what I seek and live for. Don't get me wrong. I would be lying if I said I have no anxiety or that my worst enemy can be my own imagination....I just choose to do something in spite of that part of my mind that freaks out. I recall the many times I have been able to 'hold my own' and know that whatever happens, will either be great or perhaps just an opportunity to learn something intimate about myself that wasn't brought to awareness before. I know you're waiting for an example (or maybe not, but I'm going to give you one anyway) to apply what I describe, so here's an experience I had that led up to writing about my reflections today.....

I had been talking with a friend of mine here in Seattle about my curiosity to go to the annual Seattle Erotic Art Festival (SEAF) a few months ago. As she has lived in Seattle for about 7-8 years now and boldly embraces the erotic arts (ie, she occasionally teaches strip/pole dance classes), she has been attending SEAF regularly since she moved to Seattle. I knew if there was anyone I would want to have this 'unknown' experience with, I would want it to be her. The funny, ironic thing is I haven't even known her that long.....but there's something about her I truly admire and find incredibly refreshing. She is confident and comfortable in her own skin. Her confidence oozes and radiates toward others around her. Some people find this intimidating; I find it welcoming! So when I asked her if I could join her and her fiancee at SEAF, I was happy she said yes.

It wasn't until the morning of the event that I started to get a bit nervous. We were talking on the phone, making plans for what time to meet at the Seattle Center Exhibition Hall.

She told me it was a black tie event and everyone was going to be dressed up, adding that people could be wearing anything from formal wear to fetish attire.

"Last year there was someone wearing a pony costume," she joked. We excitedly agreed on how much people watching there was to be had. My only concern was what to wear, given the nature of the event.

Funny enough, in the everyday world one may tend to be concerned with wearing something that will look too racy or provoke too much attention. In this instance, I was concerned of the opposite. I wondered if I needed to wear an outfit that would fit the aforementioned qualities. My conundrum was not wanting to wear clothing that would make me stand out in a boring way. I searched the depths of my drawers for something remotely sexy that I could safely wear outside of my bedroom, crossing my fingers I still had that pair of red fishnet stockings I bought back for my Halloween costume in 2004. Sigh. No such luck. I then got pissed at myself, thinking Why the hell did I ever get rid of those?!?!

Moving on, I was thankful I at least had my hot pink tights to slightly spice up my classy, albeit conservative black blouse and black skirt combo. I resigned myself to the fact I might be the most conservative looking person there. Oh well. Screw it. Isn't the purpose of something like this to emphasize how erotic pretty much anything can be? I rationalized to myself in that moment that it didn't matter what I was wearing, but how I felt about myself. I was feeling beautiful and confident with my body. I was feeling adventurous, my heart beating fast at this bold new experience I was about to embrace. I was also open to seeing anything and everything that might be at this event; it was an adrenaline rush. Off I went.

Greeting my friend and the love of her life, I was immediately taken in by the art gallery feel of the place. I'm not sure what I was expecting, maybe something more explicit and in your face. I was wrong. It was a colorful, classy assortment of erotic art strewn along the walls with unique performance art in between its open spaces. The atmosphere was warm and relaxing to the senses. My friend commented with joyful surprise that she couldn't believe I showed up, as she had invited other people and I was the only one "who had the nerve."

"Really?" I said, taken aback with surprise. Throughout the course of the evening, she proudly introduced me to her friends and acquaintances as the "SEAF virgin." I smiled and chuckled in amusement.

Ever the curious voyeur of human nature, I soaked in the night like a sponge. There was the huge pink couch/chair in the shape of a boob. The professional rope/bondage man demonstrating in his performance art how a couple can intertwine rope between each other in bed (on an actual bed). A fanciful burlesque show with visually stimulating (and at times, period piece specific) costumes. White porcelain Kleenex holders in the shape of a butt with Kleenex coming out of them; that cracked me up. People watching galore. A woman whose fetish was to have onions grated on her nether regions, which some people openly obliged for her (this I couldn't wrap my head around....especially onions, yikes! But, whatever floats your erotic boat!). A room where you could have tasteful photos taken (erotic, not porn), though the photographers seemed less than amateurish. I think I could have done a better job at those photo shoots. When my friend and her fiancee had their picture taken, she told me they were just pointing and shooting with no quality creative goal in mind. Shame on those "photographers," especially for overcharging what mostly turned out to be shoddy photos.

On the other hand, what most impressed me was the erotic photography I saw as I walked by the numerous walls. I only wished the framed photos on the walls were cheaper. I was drawn to a photo of a woman's black shoes laying on the end of a bed. There was something about the way it was shot and the contrast of black and white (though it was a color photo) that caught my eye. Too bad it cost about $300. Though I couldn't afford to purchase it, I wandered into the festival's store and did find another photo I had liked from the photo gallery...this one more within my price range: a woman with red hair across her face (in mid motion as she had turned her head to the left) wearing what I can best describe as a black skin tight outfit covering her torso. There are small holes all over the black shirt, very subtly exposing the woman's breasts and nipples. It looks like something you would see in a fashion magazine. Hot, yet classy. I bought my very first erotic (and professional) photograph that night!

As the evening progressed, I talked with my friend and pointed out specific pieces of art that really resonated with me. I couldn't help but happily smile as she remarked with an impressed tone of voice how much she's learning about/seeing a different side of me.

When we tend to judge a book by its cover, we lose the possibility of being able to see others (and ourselves) in the various (and sometimes intimate) contexts of experience. I'm glad I haven't lost this ability to surprise myself, and other people. Now that's wisdom and excitement I can hold onto for years to come. No pun intended.