Don't Be Embarrassed, We're All Learning

I haven't always struggled with fitting in. Or at least it never used to cause me anxiety.

I was bullied in elementary school and it's the cause of my social anxiety. It's why I don't feel comfortable in large groups of strangers, especially those groups made up of primarily women. Women who haven't been vetted by a person I trust.

I had a hard class in grad school tonight.

Let me back up, in case you aren't up to date. I left beloved Jersey City for Seattle, enrolling in the Couple and Family Therapy program at Antioch University. My cohort (for lack of a better word) is 95% women, 80% white. It's now week five of my first quarter.

My Communication and Counseling Skills class is the least diverse of all. I am paired with two incredible young women as a consultancy group. They are amazing, and I don't think I would have made it to week five without them. School privacy prohibits me from saying any more about that.

We had an in-class practice with everyone tonight. One woman volunteered to be the client for the counseling volunteers. I had an idea of where she might want to go where other people were having some issues. I sat down, probably overeager, and she was totally closed off. No additional information volunteering, everything needed to be dragged out of her. I tried to use attentive silence to give her space to open up a little bit more, and she wasn't responsive. It went on way too long, and I have no chill when it comes to this. I can sit for twenty minutes without speaking to a person if necessary, but that wasn't part of the exercise.

When the instructor intervened after about 90 seconds of unproductive silence, he asked her how she felt about it. She said she felt like I made her a part of a performance piece.

I feel like there was probably a gentler way to say that. I feel like feedback that abrasive should be directed at your partner, not at the instructor like your partner isn't even sitting there.

I am really sensitive about my "kooky personality." I think everyone thinks I'm trying to make them part of a Marina Abramovich piece. I think everyone hates me and is critical of my enthusiasm.

I'm used to my partners being engaged with me, trusting that I am heading towards a place of Good Work and not out to prove myself. That's what I learned from Evergreen: always say yes in a class exercise, even if you're not sure.

Instead I had two minutes of unproductive silence, and a partner who felt like she got the drop on me. And like the whole class probably feels superior to me because I am Not a good counselor, and I do not do Good Work.

I always feel like I have so much to prove. I hate it when people make me feel right about that.

Oh, hey, this exists.

It's funny how when life is going well, it's easy to forget to document it. 

The beginning of my porch garden.

When things go wrong, the first thing we do is shake our fists at the sky and ask for a reason, or at least for company.
Once the road smooths out, suddenly shouting from the rooftops is less of a priority.

So, here I am.  Life is pretty great.  I live in a beautiful and spacious apartment with friends I get along with. 

Kayley and one of my roommates.

Kayley - my cat - is healthy and has plenty of birds to chitter at from the windowsill. 

I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me (that dancer guy from last year - /high five!!  Yeah, all the drama blew over pretty quickly). 

Mark thinks he can get away with working at my place.

I'm making ends meet by doing editing and writing freelance under my own brand.  Editing has always been my dream job, but I honestly never thought of getting paid to do something I love so much until now.  It's a weird feeling, that work doesn't have to be "work". 

My website, if you need an editor.

I'm still applying for jobs with benefits, but only the ones I really want.  I'm also still doing temp work, but those are also contracts that have more relevance to what I want to be doing.

Got a haircut for the new job and all.

So overall, I feel good.  I'm winning on my work-in-progress.