Or.... its still Monday in California. NaNoWriMo day 2.
So what's active for me today. Not getting everything done that I think I ought to. By a long shot. Not in my day job. Not in my night job. Not at home. Not in my relationships. Sure, its obvious I have to learn to let things go - but whoever said it was easy to learn.
I'm listening to an interview I did with a good friend on relationships. We are talking about polyamory. On the one hand I'm super impressed with myself. I sound great. I sound like I know what the hell I'm talking about. On the other hand I think who am I to think I know anything at all. I have a huge case of imposter syndrome. And on the third hand I'm always a little self conscious about my voice. Its always a bit nasal, a bit pitched up into my head, as if I'm always trying to sound harmless or young or feminine or something. I'm kind of like Hagrid. More and more people are comparing me to Hagrid, which I really hate. Yeah, Hagrid was lovable, but he was also a big clumsy oaf, a doofus, and really just not sexy at all.
I've been learning to swing dance. I feel like Hagrid trying to swing dance. I feel more than a little ridiculous. When what I want is to feel graceful, expressive, joyful. Instead I feel heavy, clumsy, unfit.
I met with my supervisor today - about my problem case. I won't give any even remotely accurate details here, because privacy, but suffice to say its a challenge for me. They have very strong defenses. My usual bag of tricks just bounces off of them. And they make me very sad for them. Their need for love is so strong - like a huge gaping wound - and they are so skilled it blocking out any chance at all of receiving it. Its my first challenge as a counselor I think. My first real one. What do I do when I really can't fool myself into thinking I'm "fixing" them at all (or fool them).
Yes, yes, of course we don't fix our clients, yadda yadda yadda. I've got the degree. Now can we just dump the doublespeak for a minute?
And the answer is that I hold hope. That's my whole job. For 50 minutes a week I visit them in their hopeless space and I sit there with them and believe in hope. I keep one hand on the shore while I swim with them. And when we're done, I get to climb out, dry off, and breath deep of all the hope that is in my life. They have to stay there. Until and unless I can get them to take a chance on hope again.
Its a pretty hard job. But what the hell, I wanted to do something worth doing. If working hard to help someone find hope isn't worth it, then really I think my standards are just way, way too high.