Often in this first year of counseling I have been slammed with emotions. Constantly trying to find the balance between empathy and detachment. Somedays I really struggle to leave the kids at work, metaphorically speaking. I know the boundaries in this work are important. I need those lines for the sake of my own mental health.
Yet I get so frustrated at my limitations. I can't adopt every heartbroken kid. Or even my favorites. I can't take that girl to her appointment even though I have a working car and her mother does not. Lines of poverty cross at every turn of this work. Despair too can overwhelm me if I'm not constantly letting go. And even when I do, it can still take me over. I am human after all.
I am finding though, that the struggles I see are not the end of the story. I am finding empathy in these little broken hearts for others in similar situations. I am finding future dreams strong enough to fight for.
A gang kid explaining how he's found friends that don't do drugs and instead make music. Unaware of what incredible progress that is, what a beautiful step towards health that is. A girl who has been through so much explaining how she wants to raise money for kids with cancer using her talents of art and writing.
I am learning that there is more than one way for someone to become more of who they really are. I am learning that these kids remember that one person who loved them well in their lives, a grandmother, a teacher, a pastor, a friend's sister or mother. I am learning the power of looking someone in the eyes and telling him or her that he is totally capable. That the words he writes, and the things he says matter.
I no longer feel alone in this work. If any of you have ever loved a child, you are a hero. You could be the link. That safe place where a kid feels loved and able to dream. I see so much pain, but I am beginning to see the most beautiful little seeds of hope sprouting. It's not the end all success story, but it's enough.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Plans
Before spring break, people in various places in my life inevitably asked what my plans were. I would internally glare at them. Who told them to ask that question? How did they know I had no plans at all?
Although I tend to be easy going and open to new adventures, not having plans often makes me feel like some sort of social outcast. Plagued by shows like Sex in the City, I feel that these glorious single years were supposed to be spent in some fantastic New York loft with expensive pink drinks every night and a handsome new escort every weekend.
Instead my life is just a touch more modest than Hollywood. And my week without plans still turned out to be full of everything I needed most.
Learning new skills at the climbing gym with a friend turned instructor for the day. Deep conversation with new friends. Reconnection with old friends. New unexplored hikes. Old familiar trails too. A day at the slopes with my favorite sister. A dinner with my dad and whole family to celebrate his birthday. Lots of rest and time spent reading. Lots of journaling and time to dream.
The minute I allowed my preconception of what it should be shatter, it became exactly what my heart actually needed.
I wonder if most of my discontent comes from what I think things should be like, instead of enjoying what is. Because the truth is, that life is full and good. Even in the hard rocky places, joy can bubble out in the most unexpected cracks. But if I only look at the rock, I miss the beauty of the stream.
So here's to plans that don't work out, and looking for those streams right in front of me.
Although I tend to be easy going and open to new adventures, not having plans often makes me feel like some sort of social outcast. Plagued by shows like Sex in the City, I feel that these glorious single years were supposed to be spent in some fantastic New York loft with expensive pink drinks every night and a handsome new escort every weekend.
Instead my life is just a touch more modest than Hollywood. And my week without plans still turned out to be full of everything I needed most.
Learning new skills at the climbing gym with a friend turned instructor for the day. Deep conversation with new friends. Reconnection with old friends. New unexplored hikes. Old familiar trails too. A day at the slopes with my favorite sister. A dinner with my dad and whole family to celebrate his birthday. Lots of rest and time spent reading. Lots of journaling and time to dream.
The minute I allowed my preconception of what it should be shatter, it became exactly what my heart actually needed.
I wonder if most of my discontent comes from what I think things should be like, instead of enjoying what is. Because the truth is, that life is full and good. Even in the hard rocky places, joy can bubble out in the most unexpected cracks. But if I only look at the rock, I miss the beauty of the stream.
So here's to plans that don't work out, and looking for those streams right in front of me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Hopelessness is an illusion
Sinking into contentment feels so good and comforting after wandering and searching. Holding onto hope is challenging. Often it feels that the minute I begin to hope is the minute yet another story of some unspeakable atrocity committed against children slams into me.
Illness. Death. Rape. Lost jobs. Lost relationships. Sometimes it seems that hope, not hopelessness is the illusion. Sometimes I wonder how human beings can inflict so much pain on each other in the most tender and breakable places.
I guess that's what makes real hope so incredibly poignant. Because the truth about hope is that it endures in the darkest places.
Children who experience assault and yet continue to fight for their innocence by not giving up on their life and their dreams. People who stand on the sidelines and cheer friends and family facing constant life and death decisions regarding cancer. Artists who tell stories for those who have not yet found a way to share their voices. In the darkest places, hope shines the brightest.
One kind act can illuminate the faces of others who also have the capacity for kindness. Isn't it amazing how bright one candle is in total darkness?
What if we dared to hope? Not in ignorance of the realities of this world, but because in these realities there are so many tales of heroines and heroes.
I am so privileged to know such beautiful stories of courage. A kid who battles internally with the concept of following family into gang life, yet writes such compelling stories of truth and insight. Another kid who grows up so fast in losing a dear cousin yet finds meaning in helping others who have experienced similar painful losses. Friends who fight for their relationships with loyalty and bravery.
See, the truth is that when it comes to hope, the smallest spark matters. So keep hoping friends, and may courage and kindness guide your actions. You are so deeply loved.
Illness. Death. Rape. Lost jobs. Lost relationships. Sometimes it seems that hope, not hopelessness is the illusion. Sometimes I wonder how human beings can inflict so much pain on each other in the most tender and breakable places.
I guess that's what makes real hope so incredibly poignant. Because the truth about hope is that it endures in the darkest places.
Children who experience assault and yet continue to fight for their innocence by not giving up on their life and their dreams. People who stand on the sidelines and cheer friends and family facing constant life and death decisions regarding cancer. Artists who tell stories for those who have not yet found a way to share their voices. In the darkest places, hope shines the brightest.
One kind act can illuminate the faces of others who also have the capacity for kindness. Isn't it amazing how bright one candle is in total darkness?
What if we dared to hope? Not in ignorance of the realities of this world, but because in these realities there are so many tales of heroines and heroes.
I am so privileged to know such beautiful stories of courage. A kid who battles internally with the concept of following family into gang life, yet writes such compelling stories of truth and insight. Another kid who grows up so fast in losing a dear cousin yet finds meaning in helping others who have experienced similar painful losses. Friends who fight for their relationships with loyalty and bravery.
See, the truth is that when it comes to hope, the smallest spark matters. So keep hoping friends, and may courage and kindness guide your actions. You are so deeply loved.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
29.
Maybe 29 won't be so bad. I know exactly what my dreams are, and I am finally beginning to build confidence that my dreams may actually be achievable. I still get carded so at least I still look closer to 20 than 30.
I actually like my friends because I handpick who I spend time with now. Each of them are unique and interesting in their own ways. Each of them teach me something new about the world we live in. Some of them make me laugh. Others are around for the heartaches that come with the field I work in and the way I choose to live - authentic and open.
I go to church now because I actually want to. No one tells me to go, and even if they did it wouldn't matter. I actually really like my independence and where I am at in life.
I am still young enough that my dreams are possible, attainable. I am old enough to hopefully make better decisions about my future.
My parents laugh when I say I feel older this year. I get it. I know in the scheme of it all, I am not THAT old. It's just the first time in my life I feel like maybe I won't be young forever.
Some say age is just a number. Maybe it is. Some say age adds wisdom. Maybe it does.
The truth is that my generation will quickly become in charge. Soon I will see my peers running for office instead of older white men that often appear to have no idea what actually occurs for the rest of us.
Will we continue this path we are on of choosing the bottom line over the well-being of real life human beings? Or will we do something new and different?
Will we be able to pick up on the good things set in motion before us yet discern what must change?
Will I get to live in a society that figures out how to fund both education and care and protection for the elderly without taking those funds from homeless shelters?
I don't know. But I certainly hope so.
Suddenly 29 seems very young indeed.
I actually like my friends because I handpick who I spend time with now. Each of them are unique and interesting in their own ways. Each of them teach me something new about the world we live in. Some of them make me laugh. Others are around for the heartaches that come with the field I work in and the way I choose to live - authentic and open.
I go to church now because I actually want to. No one tells me to go, and even if they did it wouldn't matter. I actually really like my independence and where I am at in life.
I am still young enough that my dreams are possible, attainable. I am old enough to hopefully make better decisions about my future.
My parents laugh when I say I feel older this year. I get it. I know in the scheme of it all, I am not THAT old. It's just the first time in my life I feel like maybe I won't be young forever.
Some say age is just a number. Maybe it is. Some say age adds wisdom. Maybe it does.
The truth is that my generation will quickly become in charge. Soon I will see my peers running for office instead of older white men that often appear to have no idea what actually occurs for the rest of us.
Will we continue this path we are on of choosing the bottom line over the well-being of real life human beings? Or will we do something new and different?
Will we be able to pick up on the good things set in motion before us yet discern what must change?
Will I get to live in a society that figures out how to fund both education and care and protection for the elderly without taking those funds from homeless shelters?
I don't know. But I certainly hope so.
Suddenly 29 seems very young indeed.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Duck Medicine
All is calm on the surface. Barely a ripple. Ducks are an incredible example of peace on the outside, mad struggle underneath.
My dad explained this concept to me. When firefighters find themselves in a new or scary situation, they appear calm yet underneath they are scrambling. Hence the term; Duck medicine. That phrase is comforting and revealing. I suppose we all feel that way sometimes. Even big strong firemen.
Lately I have felt that way more often than I would like to admit. Storm below the surface, calm on the outside. Trying to patch holes in the titanic before it sinks.
Not that I'm sinking, not exactly. Just paddling hard to stay in the current.
Sometimes it's hard to trust that good things will come. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the work I do really does make a difference. Sometimes it's hard to feel at home in a new place in life. A new phase.
The thing about school is that I had an identity in it all. Student. If I didn't have plans on the weekend that was actually beneficial to my grades.
Now I find myself in a place of rediscovery. What do I fill my time with now? How do I find purpose in the small things now that my big purpose finding a career had finally become part of my life?
I'm not sure how to answer these questions today. But I'll keep on paddling until I find my current.
My dad explained this concept to me. When firefighters find themselves in a new or scary situation, they appear calm yet underneath they are scrambling. Hence the term; Duck medicine. That phrase is comforting and revealing. I suppose we all feel that way sometimes. Even big strong firemen.
Lately I have felt that way more often than I would like to admit. Storm below the surface, calm on the outside. Trying to patch holes in the titanic before it sinks.
Not that I'm sinking, not exactly. Just paddling hard to stay in the current.
Sometimes it's hard to trust that good things will come. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the work I do really does make a difference. Sometimes it's hard to feel at home in a new place in life. A new phase.
The thing about school is that I had an identity in it all. Student. If I didn't have plans on the weekend that was actually beneficial to my grades.
Now I find myself in a place of rediscovery. What do I fill my time with now? How do I find purpose in the small things now that my big purpose finding a career had finally become part of my life?
I'm not sure how to answer these questions today. But I'll keep on paddling until I find my current.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Confessions of a Gleeker
Strumming the strings on the guitar flooded my mind with happy memories. Kind friends who pitched in together to buy that particular instrument for my graduation. Cute boys who taught me chords and strum patterns. Warm college days singing and making up new sounds just for the fun of it. Joy surrounded my heart and I smiled at the happy memories.
What is it about music that touches me? What is it about lyrics that grab me and make me finally feel understood?
Some of this musical nostalgia undoubtedly stems from my recent Netflix addiction to Glee. Bursting into song on any occasion with the drama of a soap opera, Glee is a fun indulgence.
I wish we could sing when we didn't know how to say what we are feeling. I suppose my kiddos at work would run out of my office if I asked them to sing out whatever was bothering them.
What is it that makes me afraid to sing out? What stops me from sharing my voice, my thoughts in song, with the world around me?
What stops you?
There are days when I feel so confident. I feel beautiful and smart and like every person I meet is fascinating, worth knowing. Funny how those two things go together. When I feel better about who I am, I feel better about who you are too.
It's been tough to feel confident lately. Another birthday is coming nearer. Although I've accomplished what I wanted to professionally. My dream of having a husband and a family feels even further away then it did before all my recent transitions.
My confidence in myself has to come from deep within. I don't have anyone telling me how beautiful I am on a regular basis. So I have to tell myself that I am beautiful, and I'm not always believable.
Expressing myself through music, through writing, through art, help me to see just a bit more clearly. Because the more I see myself as a confident, beautiful woman, the more I see you for your true beauty. So this post today is a reminder that you are an incredible human being, worthy of love and admiration.
Spread the beauty.
What is it about music that touches me? What is it about lyrics that grab me and make me finally feel understood?
Some of this musical nostalgia undoubtedly stems from my recent Netflix addiction to Glee. Bursting into song on any occasion with the drama of a soap opera, Glee is a fun indulgence.
I wish we could sing when we didn't know how to say what we are feeling. I suppose my kiddos at work would run out of my office if I asked them to sing out whatever was bothering them.
What is it that makes me afraid to sing out? What stops me from sharing my voice, my thoughts in song, with the world around me?
What stops you?
There are days when I feel so confident. I feel beautiful and smart and like every person I meet is fascinating, worth knowing. Funny how those two things go together. When I feel better about who I am, I feel better about who you are too.
It's been tough to feel confident lately. Another birthday is coming nearer. Although I've accomplished what I wanted to professionally. My dream of having a husband and a family feels even further away then it did before all my recent transitions.
My confidence in myself has to come from deep within. I don't have anyone telling me how beautiful I am on a regular basis. So I have to tell myself that I am beautiful, and I'm not always believable.
Expressing myself through music, through writing, through art, help me to see just a bit more clearly. Because the more I see myself as a confident, beautiful woman, the more I see you for your true beauty. So this post today is a reminder that you are an incredible human being, worthy of love and admiration.
Spread the beauty.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Butternut Squash
After a particularly challenging day at work, I'm learning to choose a new recipe to attempt. Today it's butternut squash and some kind of egg and sugar mixture. It's in the oven now.
Baking is solace because it allows me to actually watch something I touch turn into something better, something tasty.
All these separate ingredients aren't particularly fabulous on their own. Raw eggs aren't even technically allowed to be eaten anymore. Sad day when that was decreed. Not that it stopped any of us from stealing cookie dough out of mom's bowl.
Sometimes working with people feels like I'm only working with one ingredient. And I only get to play one part. Most of my work is built on hope.
The hope that my small part in a kids life is enough to add to the pieces in their life. Enough to at least get them through a rough patch even if it's messy. I get a glimpse. I am thankful for that glimpse. Heartbroken too at times. So incredible that kids survive and even thrive right where they are at.
Today I'm leaning on hope. I have to. I have to trust that something bigger than me cares so much more for these kids than I do. I have to trust that one day at least most of them will find how to live their life in the absolute best way they know how.
And I have to leave it at that.
So here's to all the people who choose to be kind. You may never know how far a kindness can go. You may never know the fullness of the part you played. But I hope, that when life is rough for you, someone is kind to you too.
Oooh, something smells really good. Time to get that butternut squash out of the oven and enjoy a completed project.
Baking is solace because it allows me to actually watch something I touch turn into something better, something tasty.
All these separate ingredients aren't particularly fabulous on their own. Raw eggs aren't even technically allowed to be eaten anymore. Sad day when that was decreed. Not that it stopped any of us from stealing cookie dough out of mom's bowl.
Sometimes working with people feels like I'm only working with one ingredient. And I only get to play one part. Most of my work is built on hope.
The hope that my small part in a kids life is enough to add to the pieces in their life. Enough to at least get them through a rough patch even if it's messy. I get a glimpse. I am thankful for that glimpse. Heartbroken too at times. So incredible that kids survive and even thrive right where they are at.
Today I'm leaning on hope. I have to. I have to trust that something bigger than me cares so much more for these kids than I do. I have to trust that one day at least most of them will find how to live their life in the absolute best way they know how.
And I have to leave it at that.
So here's to all the people who choose to be kind. You may never know how far a kindness can go. You may never know the fullness of the part you played. But I hope, that when life is rough for you, someone is kind to you too.
Oooh, something smells really good. Time to get that butternut squash out of the oven and enjoy a completed project.
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