they're just feelings, she says

I've been going to therapy for almost two years. Eastern's counseling program "strongly suggests" that students do this. I naturally hemmed and hawed for a few months. My argument...it's freaking expensive. And I, a student, have very little money. But I decided it was worth a shot. So two years in, approximately thousands of dollars spent, and exactly 47 gallons of tears shed, I can say that it has been well worth it. Every bit of it. I probably would have said this at just 3 sessions in, but I want to publicly declare it.

I would also like to point out that after spilling my feelings to her week after week, my therapist sprung this on me, "They're just feelings." I just sat there, mouth agape. I'm a fairly emotional person (which MIGHT be an understatement) and have spent many hours in therapy sorting out my feelings. FURTHERMORE, my professors have beat into us the importance of "getting at the emotion" during sessions with clients. So this statement kind of threw me. If it's true, why the hell am I putting so much time and energy into feelings... both personally and professionally?

I often find myself overwhelmed with emotion, both good and bad. So, naturally, I dismiss them... (or, as my brother likes to say, "push them down...deeeeeep down."). The problem is, my feelings then drive me. Mostly out of my mind (buh-dum-ching!). Ignoring our feelings might be great at first. We feel strong and in control when we can convince ourselves that we don't care. And at times, we need to, just to stay sane. But there's something freeing about sitting with our feelings. Allowing ourselves to hold our feelings, in therapy or with good friends, liberates us from them. As we examine them, we can put them in perspective. Because although feelings are real, they're not reality. They're not the only things that exist and they shouldn't be the only things that motivate us. I do fear that if we put so much stock in feelings, we'll find ourselves riding their waves...thinking and behaving in ways that do not take other factors (especially other people) into account.

I definitely still have a hard time accepting that my feelings aren't paramount. They kind of led me to this profession and keep me engaged with my clients. I feel connected when that bit of heartache creeps up as I listen to them talk. I don't think I'd be me without it. But while I can appreciate and listen to my feelings, I don't have to let them take over.

So...I hereby release you to go forth and grab ahold of your feelings! Then tell me how you did it, because I'm still unsure...

dear diary...i mean journal

I was asked by an anonymous follower of my blog to quote, write more, end quote. I think he's just bored...considering a TRUE follower would reveal his identity by actually signing up. At any rate...

I guess I generally think that I have to have some pressing pondering in order to write. A plan...a purpose... or a punch line. Writing has never been my forte, so writing on a whim doesn't always work out for me. I'll probably even edit this a few times.

One writing endeavor I'm pretty good at is journaling. I've been journaling for years, ever since I was like 7, when got my very first diary. If I recall, it had Garfield on it. It also had a lock, to keep out my nosy sisters and brother...I couldn't have them reading about my deepest darkest secrets! Like how I was soooo mad that I missed "Doughnuts for Dads" in 3rd grade because I was sick. I was seriously distraught about that. Anyway, I wrote probably a handful of entries and totally lost the key. So many childhood thoughts...trapped.

I think I resumed writing in a journal as soon as I felt old enough to call it "journaling" instead of "writing in my diary." I've gone through so many phases of this common practice. From reporting my daily activities (captivating ones like..."Dear Diary, Today I went to the candy store with my sister. She's so annoying. We bought Mambos.") ...to exploring my writing style (at one point, I was convinced that someone would turn it into a memoir, so I made sure to sound really existential)...to figuratively vomiting all of my feelings onto the page (oh the ways one can say "hate"). All had their use, I suppose. But I think there was something missing in the process.

Lately, I've been using writing more therapeutically. I know that reference probably makes some people gag (me too, a little). Sometimes I hate when I suggest to clients that they journal. It's kind of like replying "What do YOU think it means?" to the question "So what do you think?" It seems like a cop-out...an easy answer to a really hard question. Unfortunately, like all classic therapeutic tools and interventions, they're classics for a reason. We, ourselves, have to figure things out. And writing DOES help.

I know that a lot of people use writing and journaling as a therapy. But I assert that we need to approach it in the different way. While my figurative vomiting had some cathartic effect, it kind of just emptied me. I wasn't filling myself with anything new. And actually, those awful feelings that I wrote down probably never left me. They peeked out, screamed, and retreated back, deep within me and probably festered (I'm picturing this like "Alien."). I think putting time and thought into our writing...really working things out as we write...and allowing our words to really sink in to our hearts and minds is way more therapeutic than spilling everything on the page. Yes, we might feel better for a minute; but most likely, we'll feel empty afterwards. When done thoughtfully, I believe writing can really connect parts of us that are usually disconnected. Our prose, in whatever form, can become a road map to ourselves.

So even though I still write like I talk...with fragments...with hip-kid/hep-cat vernacular (OK, I obviously don't even know what that is anymore)...and with ellipses... I'm trying more and more to really be thoughtful about what I write--even when I think no one will read it.

on a side note...

This post has nothing to do with being a therapist...and everything to do with being a blogger.

I have my very first follower! I won't mention her name, because I don't know what the etiquette is. But, I find it amusing that on my "dashboard" (you know, where I, the pilot of the blog, flies the blog, so to speak), it says "1 Follower." Then next to that it says "Manage." I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to manage my one follower. Rachel's kind of unruly. Shit, I mentioned her name.

Addendum: I love my follower.

great admirations

I just got home from one of my last classes of this semester, and I feel so loved. My professor adjourned class by reading us students a prayer of Thanksgiving...appropriate as we approach the holiday. She prefaced her reading by saying that she searched long and hard (OK, googled...but still) for a Thanksgiving wish from a professor to a student...but couldn't find one. Most were letters of thanks or sentiments from students to teachers. What she read instead was a Bible passage from Eugene Peterson's translation "The Message." I go to a Christian University...we can do that there:

Philippians 1

3-6 Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart. I am so pleased that you have continued on in this with us, believing and proclaiming God's Message, from the day you heard it right up to the present. There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.

9-11 So this is my prayer: that your love will flourish and that you will not only love much but well. Learn to love appropriately. You need to use your head and test your feelings so that your love is sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush. Live a lover's life, circumspect and exemplary, a life Jesus will be proud of: bountiful in fruits from the soul, making Jesus Christ attractive to all, getting everyone involved in the glory and praise of God."

Like I said, this really warmed my heart...not only the passage, but the way my professor read it to us. She is one of the kindest individuals I've ever met. I might gush right now...but I don't think it'll be purely sentimental. So here I go.

While my time in grad school and in this field has been trying, I have had the pleasure of learning from and being amongst some of the most intelligent, admirable, integritous (you know, full of integrity...is there a word for that?), and just plain cool professors and clinicians on the face of the earth. It's true. My internship professor always lectures for the first half hour of class on topics like "containing our clients' emotions", "grieving defenses", and my favorite "evil, the view of self, and Christian thought." Then we have a few moments of silence to reflect on it and ourselves. At times, I think I can hear my soul. No lie. My favorite professor sometimes joins me and my peers for beers after class (we call it Peers, Beers, and Professor Jeers...actually, we don't. I just made that up) where he regales us with stories about old clients and quips about his own personality style. And then there's my research professor (who is Chinese) who constantly talks about Kung Foo Panda and Dutch Apple Pie. You got me why he does, but that's what makes him great and why I keep taking classes with him.

Some might not realize the importance of these moments, but I see them (and my professors) as a gift. They care about us and for us so that we can care for others. It's like the gift that keeps on giving, really.

While I'm incredibly nervous to graduate and give up this culture I've grown to appreciate and love, I kind of expect that I'll get this once I'm out "on my own." I know it won't look the same...Peers, Beers, and Professor Jeers won't happen...I won't always have people reading me inspirational Bible passages...and I'll probably have to beg people to massage both my ego and my funny bone (ehhh...you catch my drift, right?). But little experiences here and there have provided me with a ray of hope. I can see my academic crushes (yes, I have crushes on all of them) making way for professional crushes. My current internship supervisors are incredible and I enjoy supervision more than I ever have before. I read books and articles by authors in the field that enlighten me far beyond what a text could. And in attending a lecture last week on the Paranoid Personality, and I now think I'm in love with the presenter.

I think we need people to admire, to look up to, to strive to be like. We need to look longingly at them and their attributes. We need to follow their lead so that we can one day lead. And I do want to lead someday.

Am I willing to accept this?

I'm totally dressed like a therapist today. And I know you know what I mean.

dream interpretations

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was thinking about what my next blog topic should be. As I was slipping out of consciousness, I recall having spectacular ideas. No... they were GENIUS. I said to myself..."you gotta remember this one, Emily...it's a gem. Remember ...remember ... remem...zzzzzzzzz. " Needless to say, all of those good ideas are now trapped in some dream (hypnosis will be a future topic, to be sure). I'm convinced that I'm most creative when I'm half asleep. Or maybe I just think I am...I'll have to start digitally recording my pillow musings.

So while doing dream interpretations SOUNDS dramatic and exotic and film-noir-esque (maybe? just a little?), they're actually none of those things. Like a lot of people, I kind of just projected what dream interpretation would be like in therapy. You know, the patient bursts into the room, riddled with anxiety. Arms flailing above his head. "Doc! You gotta hear this! I had the most amazingly bizarre dream! Tell me what it means! It's like a I can see the FUTURE or something!" He flops on the couch and recounts his dream, which is filled with rainbow slides, talking refrigerators, and aliens...who land on earth in gothic mansions and abduct younger siblings at gun point (oh, wait... that's just MY recurring nightmare). The therapist extracts some mystical meaning about unicorns and his dad from the incoherence. And the patient leaves having figured out his core trust issues. Well, I can't say this with MUCH much authority, since I've only had one client who has recalled a poignant dream during session. But I don't think it's really like that. My first deep psychological dream interpretation went surprisingly well. Upon examination, what s/he reported was a slightly unrealistic reflection of what s/he experiences in reality. As I tracked and reflected it (points for good technique!), parallels between it and her/his life patterns emerged. The dream turned out to be less mystical/bizarre and more enlightening. I believe that most of our dreams are creative composites of our anxieties, wishes, fears, and past experiences. Maybe throw some unconscious material in there. And you got yourself a dream.

Smarter, more experienced and psychologically educated professionals might disagree. Or maybe just fine-tune this conjecture. However, I'll stick to my elementary (and cunningly vague) explanation of these fascinating occurrences. I am, after all, a newbie.

I'll close with this. Before you, the reader, go bursting in to your best friend's, or roommate's, or lover's room requesting that s/he listen to and interpret your dream....think about the fact that while dreams are AMAZING experiences for the person involved..."it's never THAT fun to listen to people's dreams, Emily." Save it for your therapist. We're paid to listen to you.

(quote courtesy of my friend and dream confidant Bonnie B.)

so many musings, so little time

So this is my very first blog. I know that blogging has been a part of the e-world for quite some time, but it has always taken me a bit longer to really be sold on something. Note, I'm not quite sold yet, but I'm a try-er...a do-er, if you will... just ask my family.

Now that I've established my role as a Do-er, I'll now speak on my ever-developing role as a therapist. In September 2006, I embarked on a three year journey into therapist-hood by enrolling as a full-time student in Eastern University's Masters in Counseling program. It's now 2008, so my graduation is rapidly approaching. May 2009 is right around the corner. Literally. It kind of freaks me out...but is thoroughly exciting at the same time. One thing I've learned in these two and a half years is that I can have two feelings at the same time!! Simultaneously!! There's my first musing for you.

Being two and a half years in, and approaching the end of my training experience, I've had a lot of thoughts, musings, epiphanies, and the lot about being a therapist. First off, it's a weird profession. Therapists are trained to become experts in how individuals live their lives. We exist to help people know themselves better. Instead of being their magic mirror, we're their reality mirror. I witness something quite profound in my quiet and eerily intimate counseling room. My clients are seeing their reflections... and those reflections are becoming clearer and clearer with each session. This is not always a comfortable experience. Who am I kidding, it's really painful. And there I am...with them in their clarity and their pain. It's a wonderfully awful experience for me.

That is my world right now in a nutshell, as I'm in the internship phase of my program. I'm meeting with 8 clients per week. And actually looking forward to it. I kind of wish I would have started this blog two years ago. You, the reader, would have read about my unbridled excitement upon entering the academic world, my debilitating distress as I moved through writing papers (some of which were about myself....YIKES!), and my oft felt complete disillusionment with the profession. Not to worry, reader. It's all still there...somewhere. But I'm happy to annouce that I am in the "awe" phase of my training. What a great place to be.