something's always coming

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe

My clients don't even know it, but they teach me many interesting important extraordinary perspectives. They inspire me. They remind me that life goes beyond the books and my own personal achievements. They show me how important it is to give back to the community and feel passionate about something. They assure me that even one tiny positive step per day is more than enough. They affirm for me that this is the job I would really love to do.

I didn't feel this way in the beginning, but now, even after 10-14 hours at work, time flies, I feel engaged, and I come out changed at the end of the day.

sitting on a cornflake

Today I am feeling rather distraught and pessimistic about the state of humanity. That happens to me every once in a while. Actually, these feelings are in the back of my mind pretty much most of the time, but sometimes they surface for no apparent reason. I think: you know, life is pretty painful. Painful and pointless, in a general sense, so maybe that's why I can survive being in this profession.

People ask me how I can choose a career of listening to the awful painful stories of others. Doesn't it suck my will to live? Doesn't it make me want to cry, for a long time? Most students in my field will probably tell you that they're going into this because, yes, the stories of our clients are awful, but we are here to help them change for the better. I am here because life is painful, pain is a part of life, and that doesn't bother me. No point in trying to safeguard ourselves in all of our futile attempts to deny the true awfulness of life. Sure, I still want others to try to change for the better, but there's no point in holding out for much of a better world.

I don't know. I feel different from the people around me in this respect. This isn't utter hopelessness or depression, just a general disposition toward accepting the inevitable negatives of life. So I'm not bothered (in the sense of fear, that is, not injustice) to get harassed by the homeless on Shattuck St. and the crackwhores of the Tenderloin (I say this lovingly; I love all the crackwhores of San Francisco), or to see picketers outside the Hyatt and guerrilla street canvassers for the environment. Life deals many of us shitty hands, but to me there is a certain realness and humanity to floating through this shittiness of life.

What I will fight for, though, is justice. Not safety and comfort and other subjective goods of the world, but liberty and equality for all. Because, well, we all should have equal dibs on the painfulness and pointlessness of life.

a striking image

I also see a client at the agency itself. This is a younger woman who, like most of us, has a chaotic family that often drives her nuts. So her family was coming into town that weekend after our scheduled session, and she confessed her gratitude that she'd be able to see me before they all came. "I knew I needed to see my therapist before the weekend of family," she said to me.

Eek! You guys (and girls), I am now that therapist who people need to/want to see in difficult times. Yikes! But also, what a validation of my work! Of course, as therapists we have to remain somewhat skeptical or cautious of the true meanings of such statements... but I gave myself an internal high-five anyway. Because this is just such a striking contrast to those times in the beginning, when I used to go home and cry after sessions, feeling like I couldn't really help anyone.

And I mean, I still can't really help anyone; people have to ultimately help themselves. But hopefully, my presence, my support, and the bit of my expertise makes it just a little easier.

an ironic image

As part of my practicum, I work at a large, confusing inner-city high school that's located in a primarily Mexican-American neighborhood. About two blocks from the school, there is an absolutely giant Catholic church with typical Spanish architecture and a big lawn. I know that many people in that community attend the church, at least out of tradition. My students generally think it's too conservative, but they still go with their families, every Sunday.

The other day, as I was passing it on my way to the school, I spotted an enormous sign in the front lawn of the church. I mean, this sign was huge, wooden, hosted on large wooden posts the size of tree trunks. It was a sign about teen pregnancy. The clipart of the girl holding her baby even looked a little like Madonna and Child.

This is probably a good thing, that the church is willing to talk about this issue, rather than shunning it. And if I had read the sign closer, it probably would've had a pro-life spin on it. Like, we know you're a pregnant teen; just come to our church and we can help! But in the moment on my way to work, it seemed like the perfect imagine to describe my experience there: poor Mexican neighborhood, conservative Catholic church, giant teen pregnancy sign.

enlisted

Well, I think my general lack of time and ability to concentrate beyond a 30 minute online episode of something stupid and mind-numbing (actually, that's not true, of course, I sit here concentrating of very important and world-changing matters for hours at a time)(and this right here is just an excuse to numb my mind for a little bit, beyond said episode) means it's time for another list-oriented entry of recent random happenings:

1. A classmate asked me the other day if I considered myself "cynical and/or jaded" (those were his exact words). This made me chuckle for quite some time. Because... well, I don't know, it's just interesting when others see and associate certain characteristics about you. Like, I'm the cynical one, the one that won't take any bullshit, the realist one, the one that will tell you how it is. I guess that's my role in the group. Although admitting to the label of cynicism is in itself kind of uncynical, don't you think? Because labels are in themselves already kind of bullshit. So I didn't reply to the original question.

2. My husband takes the car on Sundays to go to his program's version of practicum in another county. This leaves me having to get to my practicum by bike. It's all of 3 miles away, but I'm not quite thankful yet for this arrangement. I know it's good to get the exercise, to step out of the classroom and away from my computer, where I spend more than 12 hours per day. But I hate getting sweaty and hate tackling those dang Berkeley hills. And this kind of makes me grumpy, on Sundays nonetheless (hi, honey!)(not that you read this, so I can say whatever I want!)(I can say whatever I want anyway!).

3. However, marriage in the second year has been much better than in the first. It wasn't bad before by any means, but still, I mean, we moved cross-country, began living together, and both started graduate programs all within a couple of months of our wedding. I know this required a huge adjustment, and well, it was stressful. Luckily, we had been together for over 5 years, so we kind of had an inkling as to how to deal with each other. I think we both grew tremendously in our patience with and understanding of one another. This year though, I think it's both, our growing coping skills and our safety in each other, that are providing a little bit of haven from our very sado-masochistic grad student lives. And it's just so important to have each other to get through this together.

4. So there I go, not being cynical at all. I'm a trickster like that.