The Impossible Dream.

Well, there's really no way to describe the last 6 months that I've been remiss in keeping up with this blog. I began thinking about all of the meaningful events and lessons from that period and was overwhelmed by the memories, emotions, and frankly the ridiculousness of it all. So instead of talking about century bike rides and camels and conferences and canoeing and health scares and accidents and substance abusers using sidewalk chalk...

I'll just say that last semester was a roller coaster of wonderful and heartbreaking proportions. For as much as I'd anticipated that learning about psychology would inevitably change the way I look at myself and those around me, I was still taken by surprise. Psychologists are continually fighting the perception that they're always "on duty," such that no matter where they are or who they're with they're constantly analyzing every word, action, and situation. The classic defense is always, "Trust me, I've got better things to do than psychoanalyze you all day!" but in a sense, understanding psychology and human behavior is a bell you can't unring.

What am I saying? I conceptualize human development and behavior in a different way now... and as much as I try not to let it sometimes, it informs my worldview. There has been profound disappointment as a result, mostly in the moments where the quirks and vulnerabilities of the people I love dearly can't help but fit into the frame of defenses and maladaptive relational styles. But there has also been profound calm and clarity in the moments I'm able to see those behaviors and patterns that irritate and haunt me for what they really are: adaptations. I guess it's inspiring, in a way, to be able to see how people have developed into who they are (functionally or otherwise). It's been surprisingly inspiring to see how I've developed into the person I am.

So no, I'm not constantly analyzing my friends and family, but I am finding it necessary to rededicate myself to an appreciation of those quirks and vulnerabilities that I find so attractive and fascinating about people. The perfect example, I met a woman the other day when my friend Sarah and I were laying in the pool. According to Sarah this woman had a bout of encephalitis some time ago and since suffers the problem of severely impaired short term memory ala Dory in Finding Nemo. So this woman, Nancy, introduces herself to us and proceeds to regale us (seemingly without ever stopping to take a breath) with blonde jokes, complaints about her nagging sister, and true tales of her funny interactions with children, for a solid 20 minutes. The coup de gras was a true Texas-ism in which Nancy's sister told her, "You're slower than a herd of turtles in peanut butter!" After she left Sarah informed me that she regularly hears this story each morning as Nancy walks by her house, and indeed Nancy introduced herself and told the turtle story again the following morning.

Nancy has popped into my mind a couple of times and I've found myself chuckling and appreciating her incessant talking and the ease with which this elderly woman delivered crude blonde jokes. I find that I appreciate her not in spite of her quirks, but rather, because of them. Is it always appropriate to strip people of their defenses and maladaptive relational styles in order to allow them the psychologist's stamp of good mental health? I'd argue no. People are so complex, diverse, and rich in their experiences and talents and interests that even a doctorate in psychology can't explain 100% of people 100% of the time. If that were the case, I'd hope to understand my own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors better... ah, to dream the impossible dream.

There's a certain comfort in ignorance, in never ringing the bell of knowledge, in approaching the world from one's own limited perspective.This field is tough. Tougher than I'd expected. Tougher on my own perspectives, and feelings, and relationships than I'd expected. I sure hope it's worth it.

Francis Ford Copolla never had to deal with this...

My mother and I cried today... but they weren't tears of pain or frustration. Rather, they were tears of laughter fueled by memories and really bad videography ala my father. It seemed appropriate that during my homecoming we might delve into such memories with the help of some old home movies, so sure enough after I mentioned it in passing yesterday my mother dutifully set up the camera and we sat down today for a serious flashback.

As a result I relived 1987, my first day of Kindergarten, and the day I learned to ride a bike. I also watched my 3-year old sister play tetherball with herself for a solid 15 minutes... clearly this is before my father learned that just because you CAN record moments for posterity, doesn't mean you necessarily SHOULD. It was very Napoleon Dynamite. Perhaps my favorite moment was my father interviewing me after my first day of school. I'm swaying back and forth in our backyard swing and about every 2 minutes my Dad tells me to stop and asks me if I'm trying to drive him crazy, eventually sighing, "Francis Ford Copolla never had to deal with this!" Ahh, childhood.

After the laughfest, my mother mentioned something interesting. She noted how interesting it was to see how enduring some of our personality characteristics were. And she was right, I noticed myself and Liz doing some of the same things as children that we do today. Gives some credence to the nature side of the nature vs. nurture debate. So it was on my mind again tonight as I played "Crazy Aunt Lora" to my best friend Travis and Nicole's daughter, Avery. She'll be two next month and she's developing at the speed of light. I couldn't help but wonder which qualities will endure in her, and how those qualities will present themselves in the person she will be as an adult. She is so much like her parents... like Travis she loves repetition, like Nicole she likes things to be organized and "just right." Having known Travis and Nicole since we ourselves were kids, it's funny to see how these qualities have been enduring in them since childhood too.

That's one of the things I appreciate most about maintaining relationships since childhood. I've blogged about this a lot, but it's truly a special experience to see the progression of people you love over time. It's hard to feel like I'm missing that progression as a result of moving, but that's an essential part of my progression. Avery's been talking about Crazy Aunt Lora for weeks, but the first time she saw me upon my return she started crying... she didn't recognize me, it had been 1/4 of her life since she'd seen me! Thankfully, I'm learning that 6 months of separation isn't that difficult to overcome and the love that characterizes such long-term relationships is its enduring quality.

The Road Home...

It's been 6 months... more than 6 months actually. Time keeps on ticking, I keep on learning, and I keep on seeking out new experiences. One of those experiences is returning home for the first time since "truly" moving away. I haven't lived at home since high school, but I've always lived within a hour's drive of the home I grew up in, the friends I learned multiplication and sharing with, and the places that are burned into my brain since birth. On the one hand, I can't believe it's taken me this long to have this experience, but on the other hand I realize that some people die having never lived more than a stone's throw from their birthplace.

The concept of seeing old things with new eyes is one that I've been thinking about since a dear friend mentioned it in an e-mail last week. I feel like I'm returning to all that I know, but frankly, I don't know what it will be like. My eyes are indeed "new" and my perspective has changed... I'm still wholeheartedly myself, but with 6 months greater perspective. In that period I've moved to a different state (let's be honest, Texas is kind of a different country), built a support system from the ground up, started an intense doctoral program, started an intense new job, coordinated a clinical research lab, had a car accident, broken a bone (haha, okay it's my toe, but it counts!), had a family health scare, and made it out in one piece! Now that's some perspective. We'll see how it translates to good ol' Colorado... which is still, very much, my home.

I ask my group to do "final thoughts" a lot at the end of our group: a thought that reflects on the day so far and the day ahead. It's funny, I end up seeing the "doorknob effect" a lot. Clinically, it's the phenomenon of a client coming to see you for therapy for an hour but not speaking the real problem or feeling until the moment they're opening the door to leave. So my final thought is:

There's no place like home.

Love,

Laura.

Sunday Conversations

Some relationships are best described by a glimpse into their exchanges... I'm completely guilty of keeping e-mails, cards, text messages, voicemails, and verbatim memories of conversations stored away as a reminder of the people that make hanging out on this planet worth it. I joke with Travis about some of the voicemails of his that I've saved for months because every 30 days when the nice automated voice at Verizon reminds me that I should erase my saved messages, I get to enjoy the ridiculousness of his 2 minute rambling messages and laugh about them all over again.

Maybe I'm just sentimental, or silly, or incapable of letting go... but in lieu of writing a rambling blog entry myself, I'll let some of the people in my life speak for me.

So, here's a glimpse into a single day of relationships... a select sampling of today in dialogue:

Jack: "Do you like banana pancakes?"
Me: "Umm, basically I don't like anyone who would answer 'No' to that question. It's pretty much my yardstick for a quality person."
Jack: "Hi, nice to meet you, do you like banana pancakes? No, you say?"
Me: "Yeah, you don't know this but we're not going to get along."
Jack: "I see, by the way I just bought a griddle. When are you coming over for banana pancakes?"
Me: "As soon as possible."

_________________________

this is a super official email. you know because it smacks of official-ness.

bunchy which pictures do you still owe me? i think there are some but i am not sure.

ps. bring your camera today.
pps. i think jigs is coming, i hope, and that would be fun.
ppps. i am kinda dressed like an art teacher again today.
pppps. when can we have an italian-movie fest?
pppps. what are you doing tonight?
ppppps. the last two ps's had the same number of p's.
pppppps. all my ps's have proper grammar. be proud. <3
ppppppppppppppps. i can't wait to go to homestead, it's gonna be fairly rockin. okay fine, really rockin.

i hope you get this before we go.

punchy.

_________________________

Just a quick holiday party follow-up. Please vote for the following.
1) For the 3-tiered beverage fountain, I would like my beverage to be:
a. margaritas
b. straight whiskey
c. grape fanta
d. other: ______

2) As part of the party reveling, I would like to experience:
a. the world's worst R&B "comcast on-demand karaoke" on Jane's tv
b. Trivial Pursuit: The Longmont Edition
c. having an artist paint our group portrait in lieu of digital photos
d. other: _____

3) I plan to attend said holiday party on Saturday the 20th:
a. without a doubt
b. had the wrong date in mind but now I'm sorted out
c. with a faux English accent, like Madonna

happy weekending,
Jane the Very Exhausted
ps- Tom and I just had Vietnamese food, and my fortune was "you will encounter fortunate circumstances at different times in the future". Voting preference will be given to those who tell me a fortune that's even remotely better than this one.

_________________________

Me: "I should call my Mom and make sure I can use her car that day so I can meet you guys for lunch."
Fitzi: "Ha, don't you feel like you're 16 again... you have to ask to borrow the car."
Me: "I know!"

_________________________

me: No, I don't think thats measured in the discrepancies (according to the book)... but maybe you're right and we should just use the simple difference method. Let's just do the best we can and have Sara rip it apart tomorrow.

Shehzad: okie doke

I don't care too much anymore hahasee ya in the morn for the best freeman center day ever

plus dinner

me: now THAT's what I'm talking about!! :)

Shehzad: course I'll probably ask you something before then

me: haha, I know... likewise.

Shehzad: cool :) bye for now then

me: ciao for now (hey, that rhymes)

_________________________

Of all our family other than me, you're the only one that really has the capacity to write, that is, to communicate in an archaic form of communication begun with the Semites on the deserts of the Middle East 5,000 years ago, and which ended with the cell phone and Blackberry in our own times. Being able to write to you is like being able to communicate with someone in Latin, another now dead language.

You should not lose your ability to express yourself with the written word. We're one of the least permanent societies that ever existed on the earth. This email message will never be printed and will be lost to time in a year at best. If you download it to a CD, the CD will be unreadable in 10 years. If you print it, it may last 100, but by then, nobody will be able to read anyway because they've also lost the ability to write. If it were carved in stone, as were the hieroglyphs of the Egyptians, people could still read it 4,000 years later. How odd it is. The Incas were an entirely oral society, as were their predecesors, the Wari and Huani and the other societies of Sourth America in pre-Conquest times. Nothing is known of them. The ONLY reason we know anything of the Inca, who would now be extinct anyway as a result of the natural process of time, is that the Spanish "Conquistadores" sent clerics, accountants and historians to document who they were, who were their gods and leaders, so they could justify the Conquest and forced Christianization, a form of cultural and actual genocide. How ironic it is, therefore, that those very destructors preserved them for all time. We only know of the Incas because they were the regime in power (to be conquered) at the time of the Conquest. Without the Conquest, they would be as unknown as the others. I could carry this absurd monologue to its logical limits, however I will abandon that to speak of things more current and interesting.

... Love, Dad

_________________________

Where do these people come from and how did I get so lucky to have them in my life? I love my peeps... those represented here and those I didn't happen to converse with today. There's always tomorrow!

It Really is Wednesday Again.

I kind of fell off the blogging wagon since moving to Texas, but after six months in my little corner of crazy I feel compelled to reflect a bit on the experience before it comes full circle with my return home in a week.

So, it's Wednesday again. Wednesdays are my rough days... they usually begin at 9am with me leading a hodge podge of substance abusing women in group therapy. To be honest, sometimes it's them that lead me, but that's the process. Throw in a couple of individual therapy sessions at the men's house, some B.S.ing with Shehzad over lunch, five hours of neuropsych testing, and I find myself collapsing on the couch at 11pm. Even though I'm exhausted, I end the day knowing I did something. That's really important to me... to know that my efforts at the end of the day served a purpose greater than just my own enjoyment. And strangely, I gain a sense of enjoyment from knowing I met that goal. Selfish selflessness at its finest, I suppose.

27 growing women
+ 2 hours
+ 6 criers
+ 3 apologies
+ 2 hugs
+ a sleeping pregnant woman
+ a touch of psychosis
+ a slew of denial
+ "Miss Laura"
________________
My Wednesday Morning

Something changed over the last few weeks. I stopped feeling like a stranger in a strange land. I started feeling confident, truly capable, in the work that I'm doing. I won't lie, it feels fantastic despite the exhaustion. I don't think I've ever been this unrelentingly active in my entire life, and frankly I had a twinge of regret for some of the opportunities I've missed by sitting back in life. I've changed a lot, not just in the past six months, but in the past few years. I feel like I'm closer to the person I wanted to be as a little girl imagining her life in the future, though none of the realities of my life are close to those long ago visions.

At this age I pictured myself married, living in a quaint and beautiful town, working in a professional job, thinking about children, spending time with funny and caring friends, buying a house... basically I pictured myself as a "cooler" version of my own mother. The reality is that I'm not married much less anywhere near motherhood, I'm living in Waco (heart of Bible-belt) Texas, I'm a student who shuffles between other peoples' offices to see clients who would have scared me as a child, I'm living alone in an apartment, and I'm spending time with funny and caring friends. All in all, it's nothing like my vision of who I wanted to be. Inside my head, when I allow myself to see it, it's even better than my vision of who I wanted to be. That "perfect" life I'd envisioned is so BORING! That life wouldn't have been challenging or forced me to learn... it might have been nice but it's so expected... and I expect more of myself than that.

So next week I'll be back in Colorado and likely conflicted about my role as a visitor at home. What a strange concept, to be a visitor in your own home. What a strange concept to believe that home lies in any particular place, or time, or people. Tomorrow is Shefrischmakwanzaka... the holiday celebration of my Waco family in my Waco home. I could explain the name, but it would require more backstory than I have the energy for right now. Suffice it to say, home is one of those concepts I've thought a lot about lately and to steal the sentiment of Maya Angelou,

"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."

Dammit, I started writing too late... now it's Thursday again. :)

These people say, "Thumbs up for Wednesdays!"

Waiting on the Platform

I took a drive yesterday... the kind that ends with the question, "Where am I and why don't I remember the last hour?" It's the nature of driving, and travel in general, that in very special moments one is able to lose all sense of space, self, and time. It's an incredible mindset I can compare only to stories my mentor Smiddy used to tell me about his mountain retreats. A man, a cabin, and a month in your own mind... things come up.

I love traveling more than most things. While its true that I enjoy the classic elements of travel (the sights, the sounds, the tastes, the people!), more than anything I enjoy the rare opportunity to feel "lost." To wake up in a foreign land, armed with only wits and a camera... no map, no plan, no expectations. Things come up. Maybe it makes me a little crazy (or only confirms that I'm actually my father's child), but I have difficulty describing my affinity for this experience. I've been craving that feeling for a while now, and yesterday I think it just overtook me. I blame it on genetics.

Ironically, this afternoon I got an e-mail from my Dad who's currently traipsing through Peru. He asked whether I thought he was going mad. He asked:

"Isn't it so that a man should do with his life what he wishes because it's his life. If Obama wants to lead his country and that's how he wants to spend his life, then he should have our support, and we gave it to him. If I want to run away from my country and become a tratamundos with a backpack and a running case of giardia, fending off robbers, shouldn't I also have the same opportunity?"

A few days before he left for Peru he went to the doctor about a nagging cough. Days later he had a heart aneurysm diagnosis and a his doctor's tentative "Okay, it's a bad idea but you do what you want.". In my own heart, I never doubted he'd go. He is mad, but so am I. We're addicted to the adventure of new places, things, and people. We're addicted to losing ourselves in those places, things, and people. I recall my own solo adventure across Italy, waiting in the dark on the platform at the stazione, feeling completely and wonderfully lost. Yeah, it's not for everyone.

When I heard about my Dad's heart, I thought a lot about my own. That which I truly love has never been material, it's experiential. In the absence of all things tangible, (most of us) have only our memories: those moments of feeling lost, unexpected words, the blood red Texas sunrise as I shoot down the I-35 overpass to class, the chill of a Colorado morning, familiar voices, a gentle touch, all mixed with a little pain and hope. So while I think my Dad is indeed mad, I understand his desire to create these memories. Life exists only in this very moment... but love exists in all those memories embedded in our hearts. If that won't fix an aneurysm, then...

Lost.

When it all sets in...

It's been ages since I last wrote, and it feels as though ages have passed since I started this journey. Technically speaking, it's been four months, but time has a strange pattern of slowing and speeding up depending on your situation and your mental state. I think it finally set in for me in the last few weeks... like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. It stopped feeling like a fleeting experience punctuated by thoughts of panic that (in the immortal words of Gob Bluth) "I've made a huuuuge mistake."

I'm actually comfortable here. When I manage to practice what I preach... that whole "gratitude schtick" I find that I've got good friends, challenging and inspiring work and academic opportunities, my health, the support and love of those from home, a nice apartment, and absolutely no reason to not take advantage of all I've stumbled upon. I don't know quite how to describe it, except that I've also made the decision to practice that whole "control schtick" I always blather on to my clients about, meaning I'm making the conscious effort not to worry about what I don't control. Which, let's be honest, is most things. Dammit, I've gone and counseled myself again!

Highlights of the past month or so:

1. "Harvest Night"- I made a pumpkin pie for the first time ever!
2. Lived through my first uneventful Hurricane (Ike).
3. Avoided (by 6 inches) stepping on a copperhead snake in Cameron Park- thanks Shehzad!
4. Broke my toe and inserted the term "sausage toe" into the lexicon of my entire class.
5. Biked on said sausage toe past every conceivable road kill in Texas, allowing for my first glimpse of an armadillo. And don't even get me started on the miniature donkey farm.
6. "Mexican Night"- with the second years, a good time was had by all.
7. "1920s Murder Mystery Night"- dressed all flapper-like, again a good time was had by all. Enjoyed Crystal's rendition of Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade all evening to distract from the fact that she was the murderer.
8. Survived the Motivational Interviewing training I inadvertantly volunteered to be a trainer for.
9. Got a surprise "push up" from the ladies in my group therapy. Some of my favorites: "You allow us to be the individuals we are and not the label we have acquired," "You were the one positive thing that I got out of being in here the first three weeks I was here," "Your kindness, gentleness and genuine concern for us has touched all of our hearts and has made an impact on me that will last a lifetime," "You make us think but we enjoy it," and the classic, "Thank you for being the only counselor that shows up to class every time you should." It was a real struggle for me to find my confidence in leading groups, but I'm glad I stuck with it.
10. After much practice and a stopwatch snafu I'm now authorized to administer the WAIS!! (Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale)
11. San Marcos trip with Crystal was an amazing vacation from Waco and a chance to bond with my friend!
12. Homestead Heritage, where it's pretty much a cult but you eat sweet potato fries and feel like you're at home. Shehzad and I have already set a date to return at Thanksgiving.
13. Crystal's birthday was a success- giant llama cookie and kayaking on the Brazos, you really can't beat that.
14. Oktoberfest with Jack in Dallas before he departed for another "round the world" adventure.
15. Saw the play "Urinetown" with Shehzad, pointing out that I did not have to go pee the whole show!
16. Made macaroons for my professor- got the final cancelled... they were THAT good.
17. "Ratatouille Night"- banana chocolate chip pancakes, pajamas, watching Ratatouille, recipe for relaxation right there.
18. Cinema Paradiso date with Kara, we laughed, we cried, we made tofu tacos.
19. Dr. Pepper Hour- I still can't get over this, every Tuesday afternoon free Dr. Pepper floats for all Baylor students.
20. Monday margaritas with Lex- she drinks, I eat chips, she talks sex offenders, I talk substance abusers. It's weird wind-down from a day of practicum.
21. Swimming, falafels, living room aerobics, frisbee, dancing, singing, and many other random moments that make me wonder how long we can keep up this pace.

I'm ready to admit it... wholeheartedly... I'm a total dork. But luckily there's other dorks here, who are strangely dorky in the same way. I truly, truly never anticipated my graduate school experience this way. I truly, truly resisted a lot of it initially. I truly, truly am grateful for coming to a place of appreciation and acceptance.

I wonder what it will be like to go home for Christmas and see those people and places I haven't for 6 months. But before my mind goes there, I'll make the conscious effort. I can't control it.

"Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you'll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you'll find that you have more of it."

-Ralph Marston