Something has happened to me. I did not mean for this to happen. I did not choose this… it seems to have taken place below my line of vision, and I admit, I don’t know what to do with it. Something has intruded upon my life that was just beginning to feel stable again.
Against my better judgment and all expectation, a new faith is growing in me. My only explanation is that the seed must have been planted in my sleep for had I been awake I would never have allowed it. My breath was taken when I noticed the tiny green leaves pushing through the soil. I crouched close to the earth and stared, mouth agape. A sapling of trust. I did not make it, I did not build it, I did not toil or fight for it… and to my complete surprise the anger that would grab my hoe and rip it from the ground is no where to be found. I stand in silent, terrified joy. What does this mean?
I don’t know it’s future, but I have a shadowy vision of an ancient redwood; one whose roots reach deep, deep into the earth; whose leaves see all, catch the rain and take in all the sun has to offer, transforming it into life.
So, I know this is a bit awkward, but, hello Faith. I wasn’t expecting you, but you are welcome to stay.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
So it begins... I'm going to therapy, double time.
I wrote this blog back in February and never published it for some reason. It does lack some polishing, but glancing back at it now, I thought it might be nice for all of you to know a little about my my "pre-therapy" mindset. Now someday when I am a famous therapist publishing her 10th book and working wonders, you can say "I remember when Dr. Savage almost threw up in supervision because she was so scared." Enjoy.
-----------------------
After a little over a semester of classes I'm being thrown into the fire. I've already begun some clinical work, but next week I will probably see my very first, bonafide (get ready for it): client. This means that some unwitting individual will soon be sitting across from me in a small room, telling me their personal problems, and saying, in effect, "so what do I do Doc?"
This prospect is at times exhiliriating to me, but as the day for the dream to become a reality has neared it has become more often verging on terrifying, and lately, it has taken a turn to grievious.
I have begun meeting with a supervisor (who is there to make sure the other interns and I don't do any serious damage to these poor souls coming to us for help) and both of my sessions with her are shared with other interns who have already been working with clients for a while. This means that currently the vast majority of the our time is spent on them talking about their most difficult cases. Yesterday when we met the cases discussed were particularly horrific (details aside, childhood abuse was the centerpeice), and we actually watched a video of one client describing in a therapy session what they had been through. I'll grant that I was having a low day anyway, but my emotional reaction snuck up on me. One moment I was calmly discussing theory and treatment practicallities and the next I was on the verge of weeping and throwing up. I felt certain that were I in the room with that client I could have kept my emotions from taking over in their presence, but I wondered how on earth I could deal with it once I left. On top of an imperfect personal life, how can I ever expect myself to be able to deal with other people's darkness as well as my own?
Barely holding it together, before I left the session I asked my supervisor if she went to much therapy herself to deal with it all, expecting her to say something like "this was difficult today wasn't it?" But instead heard:
"No. You know... I go home everyday to a really supportive husband, and that basically keeps me from needing other help."
"Brilliant. So, does being single mean I'll always need professional help then?"
I didn't say that. This was in fact the last straw for me that day, so I left and I found myself an empty therapy room in the clinic to do a little self-of-the-therapist work (thank God they keep tissues in those rooms) before pulling myself together and heading home... where I told my best friend about my day and went to pieces all over again, after which, I felt much better.
Then, as though Lean on Me had begun playing in my head, I remembered that I have friends. Supportive friends who will help carry me through this... but on the other hand (I thought), "this" isn't a random activity, this is the job I'm signing up for. Like everyday for the rest of my life.
I've had many conversations with a friend of mine who just recently started off in social work. She tells me how rewarding it all is, but how draining. How she feels like if one thing goes wrong she can't cope.
The truly ironic thing in all of this is that I am actually required to go to 6hrs of therapy for my training, but I have yet to contact my therapist. I guess this is my cue.
This is how I feel today. And this is only one day, but, be it only a day, it matters.
Besides my school and clinical work I find myself spending much of my time grieving that I am still a passive cog in the machine that continues the suffering of the majority of the world's population. My life costs them, and I let it. It's so hard to change.
I'm not sure how this connects to anything I've just said, but if you have a few minutes listen to this song. Listen to every word.
Equally Skilled
-----------------------
After a little over a semester of classes I'm being thrown into the fire. I've already begun some clinical work, but next week I will probably see my very first, bonafide (get ready for it): client. This means that some unwitting individual will soon be sitting across from me in a small room, telling me their personal problems, and saying, in effect, "so what do I do Doc?"
This prospect is at times exhiliriating to me, but as the day for the dream to become a reality has neared it has become more often verging on terrifying, and lately, it has taken a turn to grievious.
I have begun meeting with a supervisor (who is there to make sure the other interns and I don't do any serious damage to these poor souls coming to us for help) and both of my sessions with her are shared with other interns who have already been working with clients for a while. This means that currently the vast majority of the our time is spent on them talking about their most difficult cases. Yesterday when we met the cases discussed were particularly horrific (details aside, childhood abuse was the centerpeice), and we actually watched a video of one client describing in a therapy session what they had been through. I'll grant that I was having a low day anyway, but my emotional reaction snuck up on me. One moment I was calmly discussing theory and treatment practicallities and the next I was on the verge of weeping and throwing up. I felt certain that were I in the room with that client I could have kept my emotions from taking over in their presence, but I wondered how on earth I could deal with it once I left. On top of an imperfect personal life, how can I ever expect myself to be able to deal with other people's darkness as well as my own?
Barely holding it together, before I left the session I asked my supervisor if she went to much therapy herself to deal with it all, expecting her to say something like "this was difficult today wasn't it?" But instead heard:
"No. You know... I go home everyday to a really supportive husband, and that basically keeps me from needing other help."
"Brilliant. So, does being single mean I'll always need professional help then?"
I didn't say that. This was in fact the last straw for me that day, so I left and I found myself an empty therapy room in the clinic to do a little self-of-the-therapist work (thank God they keep tissues in those rooms) before pulling myself together and heading home... where I told my best friend about my day and went to pieces all over again, after which, I felt much better.
Then, as though Lean on Me had begun playing in my head, I remembered that I have friends. Supportive friends who will help carry me through this... but on the other hand (I thought), "this" isn't a random activity, this is the job I'm signing up for. Like everyday for the rest of my life.
I've had many conversations with a friend of mine who just recently started off in social work. She tells me how rewarding it all is, but how draining. How she feels like if one thing goes wrong she can't cope.
The truly ironic thing in all of this is that I am actually required to go to 6hrs of therapy for my training, but I have yet to contact my therapist. I guess this is my cue.
This is how I feel today. And this is only one day, but, be it only a day, it matters.
Besides my school and clinical work I find myself spending much of my time grieving that I am still a passive cog in the machine that continues the suffering of the majority of the world's population. My life costs them, and I let it. It's so hard to change.
I'm not sure how this connects to anything I've just said, but if you have a few minutes listen to this song. Listen to every word.
Equally Skilled
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)