Thunder Box (in my pants!)

Given that there is a recent spate of evil clowns terrorizing the eastern seaboard and given that I was too scared to sleep after Shaun of the Dead, no one is more surprised than me that my co-residents talked me into going to this with them:

It was super-goofy.  And of course, as dusk fell, and even though I knew I was perfectly safe and that the creepy figures were volunteers who had told explicitly not to "inappropriately touch" me [and not just me, but everyone!], I still screamed myself horse.

Now I really want to see the fort when it's not "haunted."

The 11th Hour

I gotta tell ya, working an 11.5 hour day is much harder at 41 than it was at 28.  And yet, [prepare to read me shameless brag of my own genetic awesomeness], the psychologist who works (I almost said "lives") in the office next to mine noted that it must not be too bad at my tender age of "28... 29?  You can't be 30 yet!"

I hugged her without checking if that was okay first.  I apologized after and checked in to see if it made her uncomfortable (she was fine with it); it's just that I couldn't freaking believe another adult would miss my age by more than 10 years.  Initially I was all "whoo-hoo - I look young!"  And then I started feeling conflicted about it.  I'm 41.  I earned 41.  I've done two undergraduate and (almost) 3 graduate degrees as well as 2 professional program certificates.  I'm gonna be a psychologist (a good one), I've dealt with trauma (mine and others), I've travelled, I've been the president of a union, I've been married for 10 years, psychotherapy for a million... I started to feel like the time I was 23 and got passed over for a theatre director assistant position because I "hadn't suffered enough."

Thank you for what I know was a genuine misperception of my age and large reaction that was intended as a compliment.  But here's the thing.  I'm fucking 41.  I really struggle with this sometimes (middle age health problems, living with the heartbreak of infertility while so many friends announce their pregnancies and FB about their amazing children, already having problems with word retrieval) -- but I don't actually want people to think I'm younger than I am.

A lot of folks in my profession deal with imposter syndrome.  We're expected to know a lot and be full of wisdom to boot.  Even though at times I still feel like an insecure 16 year old navigating her first retail job, I want folks to have confidence in me.  I want all the shit I've been through to be reflected in people's respect for the belief that I've put in my time learning this job.  But not just that, also that I actually have picked up a bit of that wisdom thing along the way.  I have an awesome colleague (another resident) who is very petite and has a baby face.  She tends to dress ultra professional and in styles that are popular among folks about 10-20 years her senior so that people "won't think [she's] a teenager."  And I get it.  How folks perceive us in our profession is actually really freakin' important.

I wonder how I'll navigate continuing to be my authentic (read: wacky eccentric individual actually has a personality) self while cultivating my professional image in middle age?  I wonder this alongside the mulling over of how I will make a career out of serving children and adolescents when I never get to have one of my own without becoming a nasty, resentful, therapy-sabotaging Freud-hole.  I wonder these things. 

But I probably shouldn't try too hard to figure them out when I worked an 11.5 hour day straight through.  Another time.  Your thoughts are welcome.  Although fair warning: tell me that everything happens for a reason and I will pay for a last minute flight from Thunder Bay straight to your house to punch you in the throat.  :)




Oh, here's are pictures of my awesome co-resident and friend
at the country fair.  She's a kindred spirit and we had a hoot riding trains and taking pictures of inexplicable contest entries.

 Peace out.  Moo. 41 and balancing maturity with acting like a little kid.

Reach Out Your Hand If Your Cup Be Empty, If Your Cup Is Full May It Be Again

Quickly and ineloquently now, or I'll never get anything written again:

This has been hard.  Moving to Thunder Bay alone and trying to make friends has felt like the first day of kindergarten (dropped off without even knowing the name of my teacher or what door to go in), the first day of highschool ("Hey 2%!  No not you, you homo!), and the first few months of my first year of university (only queer person on my floor, only person who didn't drink, only person who gave a fuck about learning).  You get the idea.  It is lonely work to put your emotional and social resilience to the test.  I've had bizarre interactions that made me wonder if I was in that sci-fi story where people are punished by being 100% ignored by everyone around them (BONUS if you can tell me the name of that story because it is driving me CRAZY).  Then slowly, occasional run ins with kindred spirits -- don't come on too strong or you'll scare them away...  Really awesome supervisors that I would love to socialize with but can't because of the dual relationship problem.  Then being invited somewhere but genuinely having too much work to do.  It's bonkers.

Then I met this lady:

And a bunch of her awesome friends at Sounds of Superior Chorus (a subset on the international association of Sweet Adelines).  They welcomed me with open arms, wanted to get to know me, and gave me cookies!  It was like being greeted by 35 of the words most awesome grandmothers and aunties!  And they sing 4-part harmony as a chorus, basically barbershop for large groups of women.  AND they need "tenors."  These are the super-high doo-woop voices.  I am happy to oblige.  I'm also not saying a word about having been formally trained as an opera singer.  I just want to have fun!
And I am!

This awesome woman called me out of the blue to tell me that she thinks it must be hard to be in my shoes here all alone and would I like to do some fun stuff with her and her daughter?  She ended the phone call by saying, "I just can't wait to become friends with you!"

Naturally, I was immediately overjoyed.  Then I got nervous!  What would the other shoe be when it inevitably dropped?  Geriatric sex assault?  Grannie fight club?  Run of the mill religious cult?  As it turned out, she's just kind of awesome.  Tonight we went to "Empty Bowls" - a fundraiser for the local shelter system and food bank.  We had a ton of fun.  And I met her awesome daughter who is also super sweet and we talked at length about how she wants to make Thunder Bay a "kinder" place.

The both put up with my selfies.

And I get to meet up again tomorrow night to sing.  One of our numbers is a barbershop arrangement of Queen's Your My Best Friend.

Seriously, this is what I needed.  Everything is not perfect, but I know that one night a week I get to hang out with some pretty awesome ladies and sing my little heart out.  And no one is pressuring me to do a solo or show off that coloratura thing.

Tomorrow I have to do a giant psychoeducational group at the Regional about stress reduction for cardiac patients.  I want to tell them to just join Sounds of Superior.

Again, forgive my inelegence.  I just wanted you to know.

The Saddest Thing That Ever Happened

The bag was formerly filled with two bottles of wine.  Pictured, it is filled with wine and lots of glass.

A Note from the Far Side (of Thunder Bay)

Wow.  Busy.  Please note I am writing this post at the breakfast table - otherwise we'd never connect.  It's strange to be so busy and so lonely at the same time.  But it does distract me!  To those of you to whom I owe personal emails and old-school letters, I haven't forgotten.  It's just that I have to document my time in three different computer systems, all of which apparently run on steam.  Proper letters and notes are coming; I just need to get the internship engine running a bit more smoothly first.

Despite being outfitted for the proper protective gear, the zombie apocalypse has not yet occurred.  So I got to run my first psychoeducational group at the hospital!  If you're friends with me on FB, you may have seen my desperate plea for a specific Far Side cartoon:

In case you haven't guessed, the group was about Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR).  I wanted to challenge the notion that stress is supposed to roll off of us like, well, some sort of liquid off a duck's back.  The cartoon suggests to me that they are on, at least, their second duck.  It was a great group of cardiac rehab patients, mostly older folks with just wonderful attitudes toward learning this new skill.  Most of my training so far has been with children and adolescents, so running a group with older adults was a great experience for me. 

As far as MBSR, I've been a Jon Kabat-Zinn gal since I started practicing myself back in the mid-00s.  Recently a friend of mine suggested I check out Pema Chodron's How to Meditate.  I also found Stahl has a CD of meditations specifically for cardiac patients! Mindfulness is really huge in psychology right now and I'm curious what its staying power will be.  I mean, hey, just because it's been popular in the east for thousands of years doesn't mean that the west will take to shifting out of the addictive doing mode into "just being."  But it certainly is catching on like wildfire for now.  Last night I was involved in another group (this time a dialectical behavioral therapy skills group) that teaches mindfulness as a key tool for distress tolerance and emotional regulation.  As I sat through the group considering how this could help the teens and families attending, it occurred to me (not for the first time) that this stuff is just really useful for everyone.

So as I struggle with the stress and the loneliness, I remind myself to be mindful in the present moment.  Aaaand, that it probably wouldn't kill me to get back to my formal practice, would it?  As they old saying goes, "You should meditate for 20 minutes everyday, unless you don't have time. Then you should meditate for an hour."