5x7 Folded Card

Classic Black 5x7 folded card

Create personalized greeting cards and invitations at Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Stationery card

Misty Blue Birth Announcement

Customize your own unique baby announcements with Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Yes, it's been way too long....

Wow!  It's been so crazy with school and internship and work and students and papers and tests and presentations and Luna and....oh....so much. I've just let it go.

I do write...usually when I'm waiting in an office or reading some research documents and have an interesting thought. The journal articles I read...about some psych theory or technique or disorder or whatever...the margins are filled with notes...just random notes about random thoughts that come up as I'm researching.  I'll read something that will trigger something that will bring a thought that will bring a feeling and I flip the page and start writing.

But that's it.  I have been journaling...I really have...just not on here.

It's easier to write in the margins of some article.  I can write whatever I want.  No one has to understand it but me.  It feels nice.  It's my little reprieve in the midst of my homework...to just let my mind go.  And boy does it go and go and go.  Then when I'm done I just regroup and get back to whatever research I was reading for whichever paper  I'm rushing to finish. It's nice...to let go.

I thought that's what blogging was going to be.  That's what I wanted it to be. It was that way at first.  But then I got caught up in some sort of trap.  I started to think of other people and filter what I said and felt and wrote....and since I was filtering so much, I started questioning my feelings.  My fears took over...the paranoia..the panic. I was back to the same cycle...

So.....I think that's why I stopped writing.  I need to sort through it.  Maybe I wasn't ready to let others in.  I wanted to...I really did.  I convinced myself that someone out there would relate...and not feel alone.  Maybe I wasn't ready.  I hadn't let go of the "someones" who wouldn't relate. I wasn't ready...for structured writing with good grammar and punctuation and free flowing randomness.   I want that "write in the margins" feeling.

I'll figure it out.

Other stuff has been in the works, though.  In my "free" time...lol...like right now...when I'm avoiding my homework.  I worked on and printed a book.  I have an art website in the works...not finished...but in the progress.  www.mycircleart.com And I'm setting up a store...for when I'm ready.  I've ordered prints of my art.  I've gifted them to others and some people have my book.  It took a long time to get it right...to be satisfied with this book....but I do like the outcome.  I have a big stack of them too...printed and ready...for when I'm ready :)


So...I guess that ready is the key thing here.  Gotta be ready...waiting to be ready....waiting for time...and then to be ready. 

Final Push for Madeleine's Well Project

Gosh, I haven't written on here in forever and I definitely need to take the time for that.  Things have gotten crazy busy again.  I tend to put my head down and start running...hitting the pavement...as things go faster and faster.  This semester I'm really going to try to make writing a regular chance to look up from the run and see what's around me.

At this moment, though, The Madeleine's Well Campaign is almost done.  She has raised almost :) $2000...which is a lot for one little 9 year old.  More than anything, I think she has experienced how many people out there truly care and how much one little act matters.  There's no doubt that at 9 year's old she doesn't fully grasp all that's happened.  And, of course, we have at times had to remind her of the commitment she has made.  But she IS a little kid and her huge heart is what has been encouraging to me as her Mom.

Anyway, more reflections on that to come later.  For now, here is the final video.  The music was written by a wonderful artist, Lynn Hollyfield, who was so moved my Luna's spirit that she wrote this special song.  Check her out at LynnHollyfield.com

Tugging at Memories

Sounds, smells, music, feelings, phrases…Usually the senses…all of them…the "sixth" sense too…are all related to memories

The Elite Eight Game right before I tore my shoulder

Oh yeah, the weather… the weather brings out so many old memories.  Cloudy…Fall…sort of wet…cold…days…and I'm on the soccer field. It smells like cold grass. My hands are usually numbing, my nose frozen…and I'm loving it. The wind…I feel like I can even smell the trees.

Danny and I after playing the Semi-Final matc

The feeling of the thin silky-type soccer shorts material on my cold thighs. When I go back to that place I even feel my body get tired…as if I've just practiced. Practice, Practice, Practice…and if I'm lucky, I see myself in this photo…Daniella and I playing against each other in the NCAA Final Four…Amherst, MA. Foooo….definitely an experience…clash of best friends…two different schools…she a goalie that I grew up shooting against…I the striker…she was used to reading my shots. I tore my shoulder that game…I feel that too. ALL from a wet, cold, grass smelling day.

Whenever there's Vodka around…the smell of it…the look of a bottle of Vodka…the clinking of a shot glass…the taste and the burn down my throat (when I used to drink)…that brings me back to 15 running loose in Sweden. Yes…15…it actually brings me to the "Stena Line", an overnight ferry ride from Denmark to Sweden. It's cold…and I smell of soccer too. Oh gosh…suddenly I have jeans on and Converse sneakers with a Rugby shirt and a windbreaker. I'm on the deck of this boat and laughing and getting drunk with a bunch of other buttheads who chose to take advantage of the "No drinking age" freedom of Scandinavia and they're wonderful on-board tax-free shops. I never really got drunk before then. I remember not wanting to that night either. But my best friend was there and so were the Arizona boys…and…it was exciting. Gosh my nose got cold. The airport..and vomit…and Toblerone…ugh. I remember that too.

CVS…the pharmacy. Where I go once a month to get my Rx. Inevitably I think of Richard, Huny…the little boy from Korea living below us in Nashville. He'd just walk in the door…no knock…no English at first. Why CVS?...because of that one Christmas where Santa brought all this stuff for Luna, but had somehow failed to stop one floor below. Huny's Mom wasn't very attentive. She had actually left him with us the night before so that she could do some last minute Santa shopping. She didn't come in until 12:00. The next morning, when Richard ran up the steps in his PJ's and said Santa hadn't come yet, our (Andrew and My) hearts broke. His Mom didn't wake up until 1:00. By that point I had already run to CVS…the only store open on Christmas day…and grabbed as many cool boy toys I could afford from the shelf, Matchbox cars and Kinex and Playdoh and…the biggie…a remote control car. We wrapped them and hid them behind our tree. Luna called Richard in…excited that Santa had somehow made a mistake and left HIS presents under OUR tree. CVS shelves remind me of Richard.

I was in a new grocery store the other day. It was more of a market. The rows filled with Hispanic food products. I'm not talking like the Goya section of Pathmark. Nope…I mean shelves of the real stuff. I was warped back to Pueblo..the supermarket from childhood in Puerto Rico. I smelled the produce. As you walk in you get that strong produce smell….and the butcher smell…real butcher at the market. It's not the most pleasant smell. It's pretty strong actually. But it's a fresh smell….it tells you that it's REAL produce and meat. And the shelves…they've got the real stuff too. The Nutella doesn't just come in a bottle like we see in the grocery store (if you actually see it).

In Pueblo and in my lunch box the Nutella came in these tiny little individual packages with tiny plastic spreaders. That's what I saw at this market the other day. And…suddenly…I was 9 years old again. I looked at Luna walking with me, asking for a quarter to put in one of those little turn things with gumballs or gadgets. I saw little me putting a quarter in to get a plastic container of Fluorescent Goo…I used to love that Goo. Little Tere had Papi walking with her though…and it was summer…and I was in my shorts…and chubby....and then I got sad inside…really sad. It reminded me of a time when I'd visit my Papi in Puerto Rico for the summer, that I wanted to feel loved and protected…and he did protect me and love me, but I felt sad and awkward about it.

Now, the same market, I turned the corner and saw the wall of Turkish foods and the cooler session…with Kafir…and Paynir. I smiled at first. I was transported to Jolan's kitchen in Nashville. The kids running around in their undies, one on Jolan's hip…and she'd take out her homemade sour-yogurt-milk-curdled-something..lol. I smelled her Chicken Paprikas…my favorite that she made. I felt her love and welcomeness. She always made it feel natural for me to be there. So…the smile turned to a tear…because I haven't felt that level of "natural" in so long.

I ordered myself a body oil for Christmas. Nothing expensive…small from a women-run shop that makes natural products (www.peaceoftheearth.com if you're interested). Holly had a candle in her office…I think it was a candle, though I never completely identified it. But it was definitely a distinct…sweet…calming…quiet scent. There's nothing like it in the world…nothing makes me feel like that either. It is the scent of serenity and acceptance and quiet and love. Peace of the Earth makes a Lavender Vanilla…it's about as close as I'll come to being back in Holly's office. I ran out of it a while back. So when the box arrived the other day and I tore it apart, it was like a warm hug. But I cried…I miss Holly's office…and peace.

Everything seems to tug out my memories. And with those memories come a rush of feelings. I think I was born with some sort of high memory sensitivity. I mean…I feel stuff pretty intensely as it is, but memories…hooo…I get a surge. I thought it was the Holidays, but it's gone on like that for a few weeks now. Feels like every turn in my day floods my heart with memories….then emotion…then thoughts…then smiles…or tears.

I'm enjoying it…most of it. Mostly, I feel lucky…and amazed too…that I have had such powerful…wonderful experiences to remember. My life has, if anything, been eventful. So, the most important memory, I guess, is that I've been to a lot of places

A Gift to Myself

Click here to check it out in detail

I've been wanting and planning and creating and dreaming of this for a year. So, when I saw the coupon come through my email (and I generally delete this stuff) I knew it was time. I needed this...a celebration of a part of me I denied for too long. While I don't really expect anyone else to order one...so it's really only something I'll see..it's still scary.  It's scary to see something I made...it's scary to feel proud of it as if I'm saying I'm good at something. But it's a fear that's good for me to overcome, especially in this New Year.

This year, I want to take hold of and care for those "not so pleasant" parts of me.
But I also want to hold onto and give love to the parts of me that deserve praise.

My Circle Art comes from deep inside...I start in the center and let my heart bleed out on the page so that each one of them reflects exactly what was going on with me at the moment it was created.  In that way, this book truly chronicles my last year...or year and a half...of thoughts and feelings.

I'm excited...I really am...and proud.  I can't wait for it to arrive in the mail and smile and jump like a proud little Tere.  Oh...and I got a great deal, too...something adult Teresa loves.  If you have a chance, go check it out...it's a bunch of "me" packed in one place.

No chance of getting out today

View from the porch

A path through the backyard

From the middle of the street

From the middle of the street

Plane out stuck

Observations

I had to get out of the house last night
I just really really had to...
too much time to be stuck in a house with an ex-husband and 9 year old
So, in classic TP style, I jump in the car in the middle of the blizzard
I had "Kohl's Cash" (free money to spend at Kohls) and that's where I headed

Slid all over the road, but kept on going.
Figured if anything, I could get to Starbucks
Buttttttt it was closed
So onward to Kohls
Got to the parking lot, hadn't been plowed, but trudged on through
And, yes, it was open!
I basically had the whole store to myself
Those sales people are pretty giving when you're the only one around.
I found a $100+ handbag, perfect for my laptop and books and looking cute
It had no price tag...the lady gave it to me for $16...SIXTEEN!

The peeps decided they wanted pizza...and since I was out, what the heck.
So I headed to Unos...almost there...but right at the entrance...a car...stuck...
Poor guy...back and forth...back and forth...nothing...couldn't get up the hill
A line of about 5 cars waited...watched...the poor guy.
Finally...in my black heeled boots and puffy jacket...get out...and push
And yes...he made it back...but not forth...so we try again...and yes...forth...but not up
Ugh...we did this for 5-10 minutes...only then...did a man come out of his truck
He decided the he was going to take over...
Oh this got my goat...after sitting for 30 minutes warm in his car...watching..
This guy gets out and decides he needs to take charge...
Some other guy gets out...finally...and helps...
Helps? all they did was push the guy to the side of the road so that everyone could get through
They left him there...the poor guy...

I got my pizza...came back...and he was still there...no one around
I asked him if he wanted a ride...and wondered...what's happened to this world

The storm got worse and I headed back home. 
The highways were snowed..but I kept going...everything fine..
Until....I got to our steep half-mile hill...
my rear-wheel drive made it half way up...then nothing.
I pushed and pushed...back and forth...going up..literally inch by inch
Meanwhile, cars passed me...nicely up the hill.
Not one person stops to ask...not one.
I kept going though...cause I believed in my car...I really did
Like the little train...that car and I...we chanted, "I think  I can, I think I can"
My little car and I...just the two of us...chanting along...going inch by inch.
Cars honking by.

There were times I wanted to drop it all...leave my car on the side of the road..walk home
But I wouldn't...I couldn't...I thought I could
I looked at side streets...I dreamed of options...there were desperate cry-worthy moments
But...I kept putting my foot to the gas...letting go...pushing down again...
I developed a rhythm...push, let go, push, let go, sometimes reverse...
I'd get stuck..go in reverse...rock back and forth...on a steep steep hill
and then push again...let go, down on the gas, let go..
At times I ended up on the opposite side of the road...with oncoming traffic
but I kept going...on and on...push let go
this rhythm allowed the car to grip the road inches at a time...
It took me an hour or more to get to the top of that hill
But I made it...it made it...I knew I could.

I turn onto my street...100yrds from my home...and bam...stuck
This time truly truly stuck...I tried...but nothing I could do
A guy came out with a shovel...uncovered my wheels...
Andrew came out...he pushed...they pushed...I slid into the side of the road
And the car is still there.

I had therapy today...we dug and dug...I had to get there
But nothing...no hope...
I thought about how much this is like life.
All the phases...all the times the task seems unsurmountable...but I push...and get there
other times...the task seems simple..so close...100yrds away...and get irreversibly stuck
No way out.
I thought about getting to Kohls...making it through and getting a deal...
Helping others...
I thought about it all...how much it paralleled life...every step.
And I laughed....at all the observations...

They haven't gotten me very far...it will take me a while to process
I've got some cabin fever...today was another day of being stuck in the house
and, yes, I remain emotionally "stuck" too...
But...the fact that I made observations...again...made me feel somewhat close again.
Not yet myself...the old me would have made more of the observations.
But...observations are a start...

“Stuck” talk

Woke up this morning…
peeled my cheek off the drool-soaked pillow…yuk
Well actually woke up this afternoon…at 12:00
I slept 11.5 hours straight…literally…12:30 – 12:00
People usually say "Your body must have needed it!"
Maybe it did.
But, I think it was my mind that needed it…my heart…
My feelings needed a break.
So much emotionally controlled effort…energy…
I spewed it all out last night…on paper…and listening to my sister.
When I have the stomach flu, I eventually vomit…
it feels better…then I get sleepy.
That's how I felt last night.

Today I responded to all the birthday wishes on Facebook…
It made me smile to know people were thinking of me.
Of course, I minimized it…I mean….
Yes, they all said Happy Birthday….
but, for the love of God, they have a reminder on their screen
I tried to shut that part of me up.

Because, I DO…I really DO…feel badly
for writing so much anger and sadness on here.
It wasn't always my style…my writing started in a different place.
When I started writing…REALLY writing…
I was doing it in response to stuff happening in life
Sure, there were hugely crappy feelings…often pessimism…
and...there were times when I WAS severely "stuck"…
Gosh I remember writing about that...
when I first understood what "stuck" thoughts were.
BUT…I generally wrote from the comedic side of it.
That felt better…I felt better about writing it…
At that point, only Holly really read it….but it made me laugh…
She laughed at the "stuckness" talk…
laughed at my observations of life…what I saw
Now…it's all depression talk here…
"stuck" talk with no observations.

I've changed…really changed…and it keeps getting farther away
I've gotta find my way back…I really have to find that me again.
So…today…tonight…I'm going to dig around for the map.
That's step one!
 

Holiday is Here for EVERYONE!

This was posted on my friend Terri's Facebook page

Merry Christmas to everyone out there, whether you celebrate it or not!  
Whether you're sad and struggling or happy and content, whatever is happening in your world. 
I wish you some sense of peace in your heart and some sense of light deep inside of you.  
And if you can't find it - hold on tight to someone's hand....my virtual hand if you need it...  
because we are each other's candles.....posted on Friday by Terri on Bonesigharts Facebook page 

It hit a place in me today. The same as on Thanksgiving, this year I just couldn't get into the "spirit". I find myself angry…at everyone…snapping irrationally at Andrew and Luna when they're trying to be kind. Apologizing doesn't feel like enough….it isn't enough. "I don't know what's wrong with me" I say with tears…and scream it on the inside. I don't blame them for hating me. I don't blame anyone for not wanting to be near me…I'm just unhappy company. Like ice and fire all at once….They're opposites but neither one too pleasant. 

Other times my anger feels completely justified. I mean, anger is a feeling that's OK…it just matters what I do with it. But, of course, I second guess myself in the "rational" anger. I think, "It must be me!" "I'm just messed up in the brain". I disallow myself the reasoning…I "poof" out the notion that something someone else is doing could be what's wrong. 

Family stuff brings a lot of anger and Holidays are about family. I feel badly. Many people don't have family. Comments that followed Terri's post were about family members that passed away…parents…children. I felt so guilty, holding my anger tightly, as I read those posts. At least I have family. Yes, there is "stuff", but it's not overwhelming "stuff" like death or abuse or that poisonous stuff I hear with my clients. But it is really uncomfortable…painful to me…lonely and alienating "stuff"….and I'd rather not deal with it. See, that's the thing, over the regular parts of the year we don't have to deal with it. During those times, the best coping we can do is to let it ride and accept it for what it is. BUT, then, the Holidays come around...whichever one it is…and we are called to be together. It's a time for being happy…but really it's a time for having to face the uncomfortable "stuff" we accept all year long. Maybe that's it for me. That's why I don't want to spend Holidays with family…because who wants to take the happiest events of the year and turn it into a "face-the-shit-fest"?    

I used to drink. That made it safe. It was a shield against the "shit". It changed my mood to a happy, relaxed "Who-gives-a-crap" enjoyment. Now, I'm stuck facing it and it's scary. 

There's a "too much-ness" that hurts inside, too. That's a new area I've discovered. I don't like this "too much-ness" that comes with the Holiday or presents or my family. I want love…that's all…just love. Presents…I just don't need anything like that. I just need peace and to sit down with my family and to watch a movie…that's what I would LOVE…to watch a movie. To be intrigued by it together. 

It's me, though…I see that. This anger I hold tightly to. It makes me want to be on my own. I want to let everyone else be happy…and in order for that to happen, I have to be somewhere else. My Mom told me last night, before she threw all her presents back in the car and left dramatically and angrily (because I was acting bitchy), she said, "That's why everyone can't stand to be around me!" I know people say things when they're angry. Andrew kept reminding me of that last night and this morning. But even still, when your Mom tells you that, you gotta know it inside…that it IS YOU.  

I have this need to be cared for. I need to sit in quiet peace with people. That doesn't really work on Holidays. It doesn't really work when I am who I am. Who the hells gonna care for me when I don't like myself…and considering the problems other people have, I should be able to walk on my own…leave the lights for others. Terri said, if you can't find it then hold tight to someone's hand…I wish I had that hand….I wish I wanted that hand, I wish I deserved it…but given the way I am…well there's no hands out there for me.

It's my birthday today. At 34...I think that's how old I am…I think I should be able to enjoy the Holidays with ease…to love myself…to feel sane. Instead, that anger is gripping tight to my heart. So, when I blew the candle out..I wished for peace…and hands to hold…both ways. 

Ugh! I'm at least glad all of that is out of my system. It is because I read Terri's post that I allowed myself the freedom to vent this out…Thanks for listening.

A new post

Past 3 days
Good days

Comfortable feelings
Warmth
Patience
Laughing

So much to write about
But finishing up work first
Tomorrow I hope to be done
Will finally check email
Readying to relax
and write about good things

For now...some sleep
Snore

Human Connection

Big long exasperated sigh..... 
 
Last night was the season finale of Dexter
absolutely one of my favorite shows
who would think that one could feel so much love...
Empathy...for a serial killer...almost connected to his pain
If you've seen it you'll understand what I'm saying
What he does is horrific...
but when he talks about his "Dark Passenger"...
my heart gets all stiff and sad for him
 
So...last night...almost to the end...as we hear his internal dialogue
He looks around at his family and friends who are celebrating together
We hear his thoughts...
 
"They make it look so easy...connecting with another person...
it's like no one told them it was the hardest thing to do in the world
 
It hit me hard...that line...that thought...punched my gut
and today...today I felt every bit of it...reminded the whole day

Screaming…not heard

I feel so alone with all of this 
With all the feelings…with the anger 
And more angry…that I feel alone 
Not sure which anger came first 

I feel absent and invisible 
Like I'm the one that disappeared 
And my thoughts are alone too 
Because I don't hear anyone else 

It's so quiet…….. 
I want to scream!!!  
I've had that dream before 
The one where I'm screaming so loudly 
And no one can hear me 
They can't even see me 
They just keep walking…by me 

I had a dream like that when I was little 
A dream I will always have inside me 
Screaming down from a balcony 
My Papi and brother a table down below 
There….white wisps floating around them 
I was terrified of those wisps 
I screamed…to warn them…screaming and waving 
They didn't notice…they didn't hear 
They laughed with each other…playing  
Having fun through my screams 
I'm screaming alone..no one sees what I'm scared of 

The sound of a text message 
A blinking light that says someone is there 
Something…I'm screaming 
What have I done…. That no one can hear 
They've turned into wisps now floating around 
Scream

My first client…an awful lesson to start with

I don't even know how to even begin to talk about what just happened
I had never even thought about it...it wasn't even a possibility in my head...a missed appointment...I knew he had relapsed...he told me he had relapsed...first he said pot and then...then I knew...and I understood...I tried to show him that I was still going to be there...listening...I knew that I could do that much.  Even when he didn't want to talk about it, I knew...it was a horrible feeling then.  That first missed appointment, it was the first time I cried about this therapy work we do...what we do...especially here.  This piece of shit of a disease...I can't stand it...what they live in...that pain and that void...this fucking pit that they need to fill...

I say I knew...but I didn't really know...not this part of it. He tried to show me....this amazing kid in so much pain....I say kid because that's what I saw when he sat with me...this beautiful kid in a 20 year-old body...but wanting to be loved.  He drew...it was awesome...what he brought in to show me.  "Draw it: what does this addiction mean to you...?"  He did...he drew it in 5-6 pages.  And...ugh...that's when I started to get it...or see it.  He showed me what heroin was like for him...he drew what it represented to him...the voice behind it...the desperation behind it.  He screamed it out all over those pages.  And he was like a little kid...so excited to show me what he'd drawn and so willing to tell me about it. I wish I had those drawings with me....God, I so wish I'd have kept them or copied them.  There was the house of cards...the two faced creature...the big neon door yelling at him to come in...he told me how "in" that door was the heroin...that feeling. There was him...alone on an island...everything in color...him in black and white...there was a ladder and a hot air balloon and a big smile on the balloon and a little devil peeking out from the basket....we talked about getting off that island.  I started to understand more...I hated this fucking disease so badly that day...I hate it so much more today...

The last time he was here....I had agreed to come on a Saturday...he had started a job...was all excited, but could no longer make our morning appointment. Probably even excited that he couldn't make our morning appointment… So...I said ok....Saturday the center was open...I could do group too...but I told him...I said, "C.P.,..listen...I'm missing out time with Luna...so if you don't come I'll be upset." He agreed.  Then came Saturday and I did group and saw another client and then waited...and waited...12:00 came and went...then 12:15...12:30...now I was getting pissed...12:45...he calls..."Um really sorry, I overslept...missed the bus...I'm 5 minutes away".  I'll never forget that morning...not anymore.  He walked in looking like something other than him....he smelled and was only half here...and I was mad...but at least he was here.  I was firm that day...I don't think he expected it...I didn't expect it...I was loving...I told him I was there to help...but I was firm.  He told me plenty of times before...how he bullshitted his way through treatment all the time...we talked before this about bullshitting with me.  So when the dump started oozing out his mouth that day, I laughed with him and called it out.  He laughed…but I was still firm. We knew he had used.  Bullshit or not.  We did talk some other stuff too...about getting paid...the pay check. He told me how excited he was when they handed it to him…how he opened it so quickly that he actually ripped the check…so excited he almost ruined the thing he valued (so symbolic) it was money...with devil faces on it...I asked about a bank account...I asked about giving it to someone to hold..I asked what he could do to not have it in his face....we DID talk about that stuff...

Saturday came and went...he missed...I called...left a voice mail...I left that message just as he was dying.

He overdosed. He fucking died......

He got paid on Friday…that paycheck…the excitement. He got paid and was excited and excitement led to temptation and the craving and the bright neon lights calling for him. He used…it was so exciting to him…such a craving…that pulsating thrill calling so loudly. He used and he used so much…he forgot how much was too much…limits…he forgot limits. It was too much……..

My supervisor called me in...I thought I'd done something wrong.  Never expected to hear what I heard.  and I don't know or expect to know what to do with it now.

I'm ashamed at how selfish that sounds...that it could be anything about my feelings right now. But at least there's feeling there...cause…a real scared part of me wants to just drop it and run away.  A scared part that's kicking at my head..."if I'd not been hard on him that day"..."if I'd said something differently"..."If I'd listened more"..." If I'd listened less"…."If one of the experienced counselors had taken him as a client. Someone more experienced"  

In one of his drawings…the one he laughed about the most, there was turtle-like character with fists and fists full of cash…and in big letters "I wanna be successful". Something in me said to test this…to push that "success" comment. I asked him and pushed the envelope…I asked him why the wads of cash were so big if success is what he wanted. He talked about cash and money and wads of it…how that's success. I pushed him some more…I stressed…"Yeah, but then why didn't you say I wanna be rich"…he told me I was looking to hard into it. I'm a new therapist…I felt bad for pushing it…I dropped it…and every time I listened to the audio of that session….when it got to that part of the session…I literally wanted to vomit…I'd messed up…I pushed too hard. Now…OMG…now I wish I'd pushed more about the money. My instinct knew…why had I betrayed my instinct. He was telling me…he was saying in that picture that money was the first devil…heroin the second…the first led to the second. I should have pushed that more…instead of getting scared.

I know...this is a fucking asshole of a disease.  The staff at my internship is so loving...but I don't want that right now..I want to ignore it.  When someone says there's nothing we could do differently...ugh...then why are we here?  I get it...I do...I understand that it's out of my control...but if we're here to make a difference...then how can I say " I  couldn't have said_____" ...............I don't know.

This really sucks...you know what sucks most....is that I cared for this kid.  I mean...I could sense his pain....I heard him talk and could hear...this little cry sometimes that would come out in a forced laugh...this crying out for boundaries and expectations his parents never gave him....crying about anger he had...crying out some deep sadness...but crying it out in that nervous laugh.   I didn't find it annoying...I found it…..sad.
I have a video of our last session.  I was supposed to present it to class today.  I hate that. I read the transcript of the session…I cried…and cried…it was all there that day.  heard him and challenged it…him. Unfortunately, it was already too late.

He was my first client…my very first…real…regular…invested in him client. You can learn all the "counseling skills" you want in a class…but the moment you sit with that first client and let it go…omg…it is scary and weird and exciting all at the same time. They say you never forget your first client. I won't…I so won't

Part of me just wants to keep moving, too. I want to just keep seeing new clients keep working through it…talk about it, but work beyond it…not letting that doubt seep in….not allowing that time for the doubt that could grow out of this. I know that I process it…I take care of the part…I have people to talk to and I assume I'll be feeling this off and on for a while. That makes me human….that's part of what makes me a counselor. And then part of me feels less than human…not getting it or understanding and feeling really alone in this. That no matter what I'm feeling….someone is judging it…and that makes me scared to talk about it…and that's why I'm saying it here.

Please pray…I need something right now…and I'm not sure what. I think I need to feel it…and I'm not able to…I'm so confused…but can't put words. My body is so sad…but I'm not letting my heart be sad. I thought maybe I'd want peace right now…that maybe I would ask you guys for peace…but I think what I want instead is to just feel…I need to feel this and let it fight its way out of my system….then I'll have peace. Please pray, guys…that I can let myself feel the pain.

A particularly hard rock day...

I woke up already sucking up the need
Unfortunately, there wasn't much give around
Usually I can figure it out on my own
Either that or just keep pushing through
force my way through...push
By 2:00 I knew...no more...can't do it...call for reinforcement

I listened to the same song 10 times over again
Tears pouring down like they haven't in a while
I've been feeling deep into my bones
but not crying...and today as much as I tried to hold back
I needed to cry

Funny thing is, I made that whole drive to Bernardsville
Crying it out...for 45 minutes
By the time I walked into Nell's office I felt a little rinsed out
I was numbed...in a good way...
Ever feel that way?
Waited so long to sit in the safety of your therapist's office
and worry that when you get there you'll be blank
or even worse...you actually get there and ARE blank

I felt blank...thought I'd wasted the ride

and then.....I sat down
She asked what was up...
I said that my heart hurt...cramped up hurt...
physically tied, bound, strangled hurt
and...boom...it...all...came...gushing out.
and when the words weren't enough (they're often not)
I showed her this....because parts of it spoke for me...

Sometimes I can't explain how I feel so I draw
and though I want to explain what it is I drew...I can't find the words
I know there's stuff here...and I can tell you the parts of it that "feel"
I just can't explain them
In this drawing...I feel rocks...heavy hard..super impenetrable rocks
and I feel heaviness....and rock hard heavy pressure
and "stuck"

I took this drawing out...and shared it with her
and... my heart exploded with shards....
pain stabbing everywhere and everyone
I don't have concrete words for the drawing...or the feelings
Yet both...as hard as they are...poured out like water

Pain poured out with anger...
Confusion....confused anger....confused angry pain

I don't get it...I don't understand
What happened? I asked her what I should do
I told her there's nothing...
No options on this one...nothing I CAN do
and that's the worst part
I wish I had that last chance again
those last words that may make the pain different
or at least make the understanding...make it happen

She asked me if I wanted her to do it for me
I said no...there's nothing to do
and yet I want to...I want to so so badly...to DO something
and I DO want her to do something...I want to feel stood up for

Ah...I get that part now..
I understand that part of the drawing
The rocks...the fact that they are so impenetrably hard
Impossible to chip away...or drill into...
That part of the drawing...hard...sharp...and heavy on my back
It's the feeling of not being able to do anything about
something I want so badly to change or penetrate.

Every single day I have a moment...at least one
where I pray for those hard and sharp and dark rocks
to liquefy and wash away
To then make the CAN do possible again.

Say some prayers...too...maybe it will be.

Aoughhhhhhhghghww.....

That's the sound of my body.
owwwwwughmmoohhh
I knew I wasn't feeling well
But then I stopped moving
and now I really know the truth
I'm soooo not feeling well.

My neck is achy and sweaty
my eyes feel like they're steaming
My fingers are cold as ice
There's this crackling sound in my ears

And....
I've got cramps
I'm cranky as hell
Don't wanna see another human being for the next two days
I'm like a lion over here on this end of the couch
I can't stand to even sit here with myself
You know it's bad (as Pink says) when you annoy yourself
Except I'm not just annoying myself
I want to get a divorce from myself
Everything...I mean E--v--ery thing is like a tweezer on a nerve

And....that feeling...that I wish I were totally alone
But if I were alone, I'd be angry that no one was here
That..."come here...go away" feeling
Poor Luna...she's the only one in this house
Wondering why Mom turns into an immovable monster...lol
I'd be fine taking care of myself...or not taking care of myself
But to take care of someone else, when I'm like this...oh no

Oh...ugh...why does this happen?
I really really....don't like it....
And yet...I go back to that image of Lioness Teresa
In my cave instead of the couch
Protecting my boundaries...and my belly
and then...I guess it makes some sense
Maybe then I can understand this incredible CRAZiness!

Tonight.....
Keeping my laptop close and warm on my belly
A blanket to hide in...box of tissues
The TV remote by my cold fingers
and my little girl...as long as she stays in the house...
can have a night to do whatever she wants :)

Burning Popcorn

Some microwaves just can't make popcorn. A new rule I have adopted....don't ever assume that a "Popcorn" button on a microwave means that it will successfully pop a bag of Popcorn. Oh boy, did I ever learn that today. The sad thing is that a bag of burned popcorn seemed to set off a catastrophic wave of ridiculousness...ridiculous attitudes, judgments, pettiness, drama...the whole rainbow of immaturity. Omg...lol.

Yep.  I burned a darn bag of popcorn at the office today two seconds before running in to teach.  I may have let out a few silent expletives...blew it off (figuratively and literally)...gave the bag to the kind maintenance person who happened to be walking the hall...and ran into my classroom.  Apparently, though, the smell and smoke of burned popcorn loomed strongly enough to cause an uproar....and by the time I walked out of class there was a cross ready in my office and a couple of people prepared to nail me up. 

Now...please understand, I am a pretty considerate person.  I care...and am certainly culpable of caring so much that I crucify myself.  But....really...this is popcorn.  For today...for some reason today...I decided that I was done with other people's ridiculousness.  Because, honestly, you could throw some stink bombs in my office and I'd likely laugh...and if the stink bombs landed there by someone's accident, I'd likely laugh harder.  But furious..? Seriously? My gosh.

Oh...this was ridiculous, I can't exaggerate that more...because they had blown it up enough.  I felt bad...I apologized...I sent an email to all of us, apologizing some more, and...yep...I thought that was good enough. Then, I get called into my boss' office.  YES...really...seriously...get called into my boss' office.

" What happened?", she asked.
" I burned a bag of POPCORN!...that's it"

And....finally, (getting to the good part of this story)...I decided I was done....done in the sense that I was not going to "sorry" my way through this part of my life anymore.

I do apologize a lot.  Some settings more than others.  In my work location, because they are their own little tight-knit group with few of us outsiders on the edges, I tend to walk in and out doing my job and ending it there.  I apologize my way through the snickering...smile...take their "superiority"...and that's it.

But today...guys...today I was tired of it.  I didn't yell.  I didn't argue.  I didn't even confront the most ridiculous of the group.  It wasn't worth it.  BUT, when my friends came by to pick on me and laugh, I laughed.  And when my boss called me in, I laughed again.  I looked her straight in the eyes, and smiled...and joked about it until she smiled.

And for once in that place...I felt like a REAL person.

Thanksgiving...ANY way you want it...

Balance Balance Balance Balance

I'm hearing it a lot because of what today is "supposed" to mean.
I'm sitting at a Starbucks near my parent's house...doing school work
I walk in the door and get cut-off...by a guy in CLERGY garb.
I go for the half /half and get shoved into the garbage bin.
The barrista's aren't smiling like they should at a Starbucks.
My computer's out of battery...
I ask the neighbor for the plug,
She gives me a dirty look and says it probably won't reach.
There's no eye contact being made
Certainly not random strangers sharing Thanksgiving happiness.
The snappiness, the rudeness, the lack of "swell spirit"...it drives me bitter.
I close my eyes and breathe
I take Nashville out of my heart and put her on the table and starte.
I think of everything I love....all the people I love.
I cry...but hold it in.
Because I "should" be grateful today...of all days...for all I have.

So I get out my phone.
I start to write thank you texts
160 characters or less can't possibly convey my gratitude
I switch to email....
and I start writing...to everyone that's out of reach.
I give my gratitude to THEM...
Sharing bits and pieces of special things I carry around with me no matter where I am.
I cry inside some more.

Then I see a friend approaching
My old friend Mr. Guilt comes running to my table.
He says that in my gratitude for those over THERE
I'm silently expressing wastefulness....for all that I have HERE.

Unsure what to do, I come here and write.

In sincere honesty...
what's in my heart is resentment...not gratitude.
Anger that I haven't yet gotten through the loss.
It sounds so easy...It's been a year.  I have so much.
But I can't think of it today.
I'm stuck.
Me....stuck...imagine that

And then...it strikes me.
So what if I'm stuck!!!
So what Teresa!!!
So what if I'm angry!
So what if today I feel like I hate New Jersey
would give anything to jump off a plane in Nashville.

(Brace yourself...because here comes the cheesiness)

In EVERYTHING you can find some gratitude.
I can be grateful...
grateful that I got to experience that love in Nashville.
Grateful that my friendships there were soo wonderful that I'm still mourning them.
Grateful that I was so pissed off at Jersey people...with their attitudes
Grateful....because that means I know what selflessness CAN be.
Grateful that I can write about my bitterness and that others will listen...
Grateful that I have that freedom...at least here. 

In group yesterday, a client was feeling particularly hopeless.
Another client replied........

"Be grateful for hating life....for wanting to die....
because those feelings mean you're STILL alive and fighting."
It was a strange and scary thought at the time...
Today it makes a whole lot of sense to me.

I'm sure that somewhere
deep in my brain another
some part of me sings about the things I DO have to be grateful for
some part thinks the type of things people will say around the table:
For family and a home and a beautiful daughter and an education.

But until I accept and love this part of me that hurts today,
I won't even think about the other stuff.
And.....that's OK,
I learned today...that it's OK
because the bad feelings,
no matter how ugly and scary they sound,
are feelings to be grateful for too.

Wishing you a Thanksgiving...anyway you want to feel it...

2 years....2 whole years

I was sad today
Still sad about losing Nashville
Yearning so painfully to be getting off a plane today
walking into one of my old meetings
and celebrating with people that helped me out
Feeling the 2 year coin for the first time

responding to everything in means

But that was not going to happen this year
and I was angry over it...
Teary as I drove to work this morning
Pouting....definitely pouting.
Thinking no one's gonna be interested in celebrating
Hell...I thought no one would remember
and if they did, they wouldn't know why it's important


I was wrong, though...imagine, me, wrong about pouting
My friends, in their own way, made me smile tonight
valued the anniversary with me..in their own way.
They know so little about AA
But Danielle...she made me a pretend 2 year medallion...lol.
and the others...they said a cheers over club sandwiches and cokes.

Then there was Luna....the conversation that made me smile the widest
Because for some reason, she really really really gets it.
Every milestone...every single one...she has made me smile
She has been the most fun person to announce it to.

"Hey, Luna...guess what? One month without beer!"
"Yay, Mami...I'm so happy for you!"
"Hey, Luna...guess what? 90 days without beer!"
"Yay, Mami...I'm so proud!"
"Hey, Luna...guess what? 6 months without beer!"
"Yay, Mami....what color chip is this one?"

Yep...she really really got it...
When I got home, she was laying in my bed
asked me to close my eyes and put my hands out...
and there it was...the best 2 year sobriety coin ever!
Made by her as I rushed home...
made because she wanted to give me what I wanted most
that symbol of two years of life change

And....best of all....she made it rainbow color

Tomorrow I'll reflect more about the past year
but for tonight, I will sleep with two paper coins
made with spiritual gold.

Giving it a voice

Figures...I'm in the race for weeks...

not really looking up at the stars or even down at the ground

just speeding straight forward for weeks with work and school and everything
and then I stop for a breath...
and all this stuff emerges
I'm sure I'll be back in the race in the morning
but for now, everything that's going on around me seems so vivid and detailed
wild

I saw this profile picture

and it really hit me inside...on top..and everywhere

It so reminds me of this one drawing I have ("Release"...on the right column)

about cutting...and the odd relationship one has with it
it just sorta bopped my gut
and that's sorta good....cause I am really so dead set on this race
and I love this race...and it keeps my thoughts whirling in a good place
but when I get to therapy, I spend a half hours pealing the tough skin off
before I let out what's inside...

Today I got to the inside
And it was strange in there

I coped in many ways, but two pop out the most right now.
Throwing up and Cutting
Today I was trying to explain why…
And this is how I explained it

There’s gravel inside me…
my body is full of heavy gravel,
the kind that you see on a driveway…
cheap grey gravel.

It weighs me down deeply and it hurts as it moves around in there
As I walk and feel…
Sometimes it gets so so heavy…so I throw it up
I never binged when I threw up..there was already too much gravel in there
No room for anything else…
When I threw up suddenly there was space in me…I felt lighter
That’s why I threw up…to have less gravel
And that’s why I don’t eat sometimes
Because it makes it feel like there’s some space in my heart
And that feels lighter

Now, the second coping…the cutting..
That’s different
The cutting was something that happened when the air in me steamed so hot
When my body wanted to explode with feeling
When it felt like I couldn’t explode….
When the feelings had to stay in there tight
With a big lid…Because life was there to watch me..spying to see if I was gonna be good
Then…I would cut…it was letting out a little explosion at a time.

The cutting was also about letting the hurt in me win
I think emotional pain often develops from these two fighting parts of you
I don’t think I could have felt such self-hatred if I didn’t know there was good in me too
There are pieces in me that feel so right…
Pieces that I think are right and true and honest…but misunderstood
Unfortunately, when the world thinks you’re not right, the mad part of you starts to win
This mad part of me bullies the self-love out of the way...taunting and teasing
No matter how much the good feelings cry for mercy,
The hate is fighting with an armada of real people
And to prove the good feelings wrong, the bully cuts…punishes the other away
So sad…the good feelings in me are part of this baby…a crying baby
The bully shoves the baby…pushes her in…tells her she’s wrong..
and cuts her if she gets out of line.

These days the baby doesn’t get out much
Partly because of the race and responsibilities
Partly because it doesn’t feel safe out there
And in a big way because the bully is out to get it.

This picture looked like the two parts of me talking
All parts of me talking…all of them
There’s good feeling in the pain
There’s trickery in the bully…when pain becomes love
There’s a baby inside and the bully was once a baby
It all hurts and feels good at the same time
It’s all so confusing

I’m here talking about it…writing about it
I tried to explain it today…
I let it cry…
All in the hope that I can figure it out
All so that it may help…
Even if it’s not for me to figure out..but someone else.

Tomorrow I will go back to the race
bright and early...very fast
looking straight ahead...in focus
forgetting the ground or the sky
the baby will be in there scared and crying
but buckled in tight
and time will pass where all there is is forward
But at least for today, all parts of me had a voice

Here's hoping you let your voices speak too