1 2 3 4 5 years and counting
Is it permissible to write in a blog that you haven't touched for 5 years? I suppose anything is permissible when your blog isn't even open to the public.
I've been scrolling back through some of my old blog posts and I am fascinated by the "me"s of the past. Oh 2014 Caitlyn, if only you could see us now.
As I was reading, I was thinking about the clever Christmas letters that my grandpa Ray wrote over the years. Did I inherit a talent for writing from him? On the other hand, I am not certain that my writing is objectively good - I've always had a hard time judging my own writing. I will say this, though, objectivity aside, I like my blog writing. Writing has always been very difficult for me as I imagine all the ways that my readers will criticize every word, every sentence (this was especially true when writing essays for my high school English teachers). But blog-writing has always come much easier to me. There is a freedom that does not exist when writing a formal paper for school. School assignments feel forced. Writing a blog just feels like being me.
So I imagine there might be some questions about the last 5 years, during which my blog has received radio silence from it's author. Some of my last posts discussed teaching a new curriculum and piloting a textbook on my own. Wow, that feels like an eternity ago. I resigned from my teaching job at the end of the 2014-2015 school year and that fall I began my Master's degree in Marriage and Family Therapy at Wheaton College. What a mixture of anxiety and joy to return to the classroom as a student! I am a learner through and through. When I graduated in May 2017, I began working full time at TriCity Family Services, where I had completed my practicum. What a crazy summer it was, filled with wedding showers, bachelorette parties, rehearsal dinners, and of course the main events, as a bridesmaid in both my brother's and my cousin's weddings. And all that in the midst of trying to figure out how to be a therapist and manage the heavy emotional load (my own and my clients').
In March of this year, I left TriCity - I will spare you the details of the work environment and leadership (or lack thereof). Beware if you ever ask me in person, as I can ramble on about it for days. Anyhow, I subsequently entered a season of premature retirement for three months, which exposed the heavy load of anxiety and self-criticism that I had been keeping at bay while there were enough distractions---namely, my work with clients (the part of the job I loved) & complaining about my work environment (the part that I couldn't stand). Imagine a lovely afternoon in mid-May with the sun shining outside and no agenda, yet it is impossible to enjoy because of the undercurrent of harsh thoughts scrolling on repeat through my head: "I'm too annoying. Too childish. Too selfish. I don't think enough about others. I'm complaining about time off, which everyone else would envy. I should be enjoying myself. I should be relaxing. I'm take things too seriously. I'm too emotional and too sensitive and too anything-else-you-can-think-of-that-would-be-perceived-negatively." How had I been keeping these thoughts far enough toward the edge of my consciousness that I barely realized they were there? Writing my thoughts on paper not only broke open the tears that I had been storing inside me, but it also prompted me to pick up the phone and call the therapist whose name and number I kept on a sticky note in my planner from 2016. It was time. Without the grueling pace of my job at TriCity, I finally had the space to begin my own inner work in earnest. Not that I hadn't already begun my work. I've been slugging along for years, while growing increasingly agitated about struggling with the same themes continuously and exasperated with my propensity for learning the exact same lesson time and again. Surely, I've been going in circles (this may very well be true, although if we look at my circles in 3 dimensions, we may see an upward trend to them, rendering more of a spiral than a closed loop).
Holy moly, why did I wait so long to go to therapy? It's not like I haven't dabbled in therapy-like experiences. First, I saw a spiritual director, convinced that I just needed some mentoring. Next I went through the 2-year rigamarole of learning to be a therapist. During that time, I attended therapy at the college counseling center and had an "ok" experience. After that, I had bi-monthly supervision with one of my professors who is an advocate of experiential therapy & supervision, and therefore my sessions with him felt somewhat like therapy. It seems like a slow build and I must congratulate myself (although perhaps I didn't have as much to do with it as the Spirit) and rejoice that I have finally begun therapy, and it is legit. I may be introspective and insightful and eager to grow and learn, but I could never do for myself what I am receiving from my therapist. I know that "should" be obvious to me. I studied Marriage and Family Therapy after all - it's all about relationships. Although we do have a relationship of sorts with ourself, it's not quite the same as engaging in a therapeutic relationship with another human being. For those of you who may be thinking of seeking therapy, make sure to find a therapist who embraces his/her own humanity. Many therapists are only playing at being people, just like their clients. They have not done the hard work of integration and standing face to face with their own shame and fear. To be sure, these therapists can be helpful to their clients, but they lack an ability to truly take their clients to the depths needed to experience lasting healing. I don't think I'm there yet either, but I am hopeful that I am making progress and will continue on the path toward transformation.
I've been scrolling back through some of my old blog posts and I am fascinated by the "me"s of the past. Oh 2014 Caitlyn, if only you could see us now.
As I was reading, I was thinking about the clever Christmas letters that my grandpa Ray wrote over the years. Did I inherit a talent for writing from him? On the other hand, I am not certain that my writing is objectively good - I've always had a hard time judging my own writing. I will say this, though, objectivity aside, I like my blog writing. Writing has always been very difficult for me as I imagine all the ways that my readers will criticize every word, every sentence (this was especially true when writing essays for my high school English teachers). But blog-writing has always come much easier to me. There is a freedom that does not exist when writing a formal paper for school. School assignments feel forced. Writing a blog just feels like being me.
So I imagine there might be some questions about the last 5 years, during which my blog has received radio silence from it's author. Some of my last posts discussed teaching a new curriculum and piloting a textbook on my own. Wow, that feels like an eternity ago. I resigned from my teaching job at the end of the 2014-2015 school year and that fall I began my Master's degree in Marriage and Family Therapy at Wheaton College. What a mixture of anxiety and joy to return to the classroom as a student! I am a learner through and through. When I graduated in May 2017, I began working full time at TriCity Family Services, where I had completed my practicum. What a crazy summer it was, filled with wedding showers, bachelorette parties, rehearsal dinners, and of course the main events, as a bridesmaid in both my brother's and my cousin's weddings. And all that in the midst of trying to figure out how to be a therapist and manage the heavy emotional load (my own and my clients').
In March of this year, I left TriCity - I will spare you the details of the work environment and leadership (or lack thereof). Beware if you ever ask me in person, as I can ramble on about it for days. Anyhow, I subsequently entered a season of premature retirement for three months, which exposed the heavy load of anxiety and self-criticism that I had been keeping at bay while there were enough distractions---namely, my work with clients (the part of the job I loved) & complaining about my work environment (the part that I couldn't stand). Imagine a lovely afternoon in mid-May with the sun shining outside and no agenda, yet it is impossible to enjoy because of the undercurrent of harsh thoughts scrolling on repeat through my head: "I'm too annoying. Too childish. Too selfish. I don't think enough about others. I'm complaining about time off, which everyone else would envy. I should be enjoying myself. I should be relaxing. I'm take things too seriously. I'm too emotional and too sensitive and too anything-else-you-can-think-of-that-would-be-perceived-negatively." How had I been keeping these thoughts far enough toward the edge of my consciousness that I barely realized they were there? Writing my thoughts on paper not only broke open the tears that I had been storing inside me, but it also prompted me to pick up the phone and call the therapist whose name and number I kept on a sticky note in my planner from 2016. It was time. Without the grueling pace of my job at TriCity, I finally had the space to begin my own inner work in earnest. Not that I hadn't already begun my work. I've been slugging along for years, while growing increasingly agitated about struggling with the same themes continuously and exasperated with my propensity for learning the exact same lesson time and again. Surely, I've been going in circles (this may very well be true, although if we look at my circles in 3 dimensions, we may see an upward trend to them, rendering more of a spiral than a closed loop).
Holy moly, why did I wait so long to go to therapy? It's not like I haven't dabbled in therapy-like experiences. First, I saw a spiritual director, convinced that I just needed some mentoring. Next I went through the 2-year rigamarole of learning to be a therapist. During that time, I attended therapy at the college counseling center and had an "ok" experience. After that, I had bi-monthly supervision with one of my professors who is an advocate of experiential therapy & supervision, and therefore my sessions with him felt somewhat like therapy. It seems like a slow build and I must congratulate myself (although perhaps I didn't have as much to do with it as the Spirit) and rejoice that I have finally begun therapy, and it is legit. I may be introspective and insightful and eager to grow and learn, but I could never do for myself what I am receiving from my therapist. I know that "should" be obvious to me. I studied Marriage and Family Therapy after all - it's all about relationships. Although we do have a relationship of sorts with ourself, it's not quite the same as engaging in a therapeutic relationship with another human being. For those of you who may be thinking of seeking therapy, make sure to find a therapist who embraces his/her own humanity. Many therapists are only playing at being people, just like their clients. They have not done the hard work of integration and standing face to face with their own shame and fear. To be sure, these therapists can be helpful to their clients, but they lack an ability to truly take their clients to the depths needed to experience lasting healing. I don't think I'm there yet either, but I am hopeful that I am making progress and will continue on the path toward transformation.
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