their monsters may not be imaginary, but we still figure out how to turn on the light and make them go away.
Now it is week two of classes with 10 weeks left in the term.
With class, internship, work at the psych lab, grad school reading/writing/research, planning the wedding and making the best attempt I can to stay in touch with family and friends, I'm beyond exhausted. My poor little black planner is beat up, bruised, bent, and consulted nearly 15 times a day.
I have no idea where I'm supposed to be at any given moment.
And there is so, so much to love. Like my Social Work with children, adolescents and families instructor (who is also my advanced practice instructor) who is so genuine and so authentic and so encouraging that I don't want to leave class when class is over. Like my internship (more on that to come), where my colleague team of therapists is so loving and validating and committed to the children we serve. Like the fact that I've found a way to snake my way from SW Portland to my internship in NE Portland completely avoiding I-5 and I-84 and saving at least 10 minutes by doing so. Like my job in Psychiatry Research, interviewing parents and children with ADHD. Like my friend B. in Psych, who started when I did, who is in my same graduate program, and who has quickly become my touch point when she's at the lab.
Last year you read about the ins and outs of geriatric psychotherapy and how profoundly and fundamentally changing it was for me as a counselor and human being.
This year we're going to return back to the minds and hearts of children. And the minds and hearts of children can be a foreign landscape, for which you might need your passport. And if you don't think you have time enough to get a passport, it's ok. Because these are kids ... and they would tell you to get out a piece of construction paper, scissors, glitter, and stickers; grab the best picture of you ever (even if it's bigger than 1" x 1") (or a picture of anything you want [mine would be of a sea turtle]) and get to work. This landscape can also be a little heartbreaking, but that's ok. Even in the story of big heartbreak in little bodies, there's this amazing story of resilience you can't even imagine exists.
And just as a reminder, my tiny body clients have the same rights and privileges to confidentiality and privacy as my larger bodied clients (check out legal issues above - I'm not messin' around here). So we talk about themes. And we use conglomerations. And more than anything, we talk about how their stories change me.
Their stories always change me.