two thousand twelve.

16 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in inner monologue, student life

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When I went to Virginia last January, my professor told the class, “Some of you are in graduate school because you think it’s cheaper than therapy, but if that is your reason for enrolling, this is not the program for you.” In my typical self-righteous way, I thought that she was talking about someone else, some other student who was terribly misguided and lacked self-awareness.

She might have been talking to me.

I didn’t enroll in the Professional Counseling program just so that I could sort out my own issues, although I will freely confess that when you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. The more I learn about various ways personality and circumstance can combine to form a perfect storm of maladaptive psychological tendencies, the more I see faults in myself. While it’s interesting to know how the status quo came to be, it’s honestly more useful to know how help people get better.

I haven’t taken those classes yet.

So I have this big list of things that I think are Wrong With Me, but I haven’t yet gained the self-awareness or knowledge of how to fix them. It’s kind of a drag, to be honest with you.

I just returned from another week in Lynchburg and again, it was fantastic. There’s a not-small part of me that wants to move to Lynchburg so that I can be a full-time student, involved in classroom discussions and grading papers and living in a college town. I am fully confident that that is not the right thing for me at this point, no matter how much I like being there. I’m sure part of the reason why I like being there so much is precisely because I don’t actually live there. Being there is like vacation, but with classes and credit hours. (Honestly, that sounds like a completely bitchin’ vacation. And it was. Plus! I got to drive a muscle car.)

So I’m settling back into Real Life, and I realize I don’t really have anywhere to put these feelings of discontentment that going to Liberty seems to bring to the surface for me…also kind of a drag.

I’ve been wrestling with the idea of switching from the 48-hour program to the 60-hour program for several months and I definitely decided to make the leap to the longer program while I was there. The decision was made for several reasons, but what it boils down to is two things: the longer, more comprehensive program gives me more options when I finish. There are only a few states that require a 48-hour degree, with the majority requiring 60 hours of coursework. Texas currently requires 48 hours, but honestly, and don’t tell anyone I said this, I don’t know if I’ll live in Texas forever. I might live someplace else someday and I’d rather get whatever coursework I need while I’m still in school. Yes, it’ll delay my graduation by two semesters, but at this point, what are four more classes? Okay, technically it’s five, but who’s counting?

The second reason for the longer program is completely self-serving: I love being a student. I will complain about the textbooks and the discussion board posts and I might grumble about professors who take their sweet, precious time getting grades back to students, but I love the learning process. The opportunity to take more classes so as to be a better prepared counselor? Yes, please.

As long as I’m writing my inaugural post of Twenty Dozen (thank you Justin and Kirt for that fantastic phrase!) I have to admit that I’m having a bit of an existential crisis (loosely defined: a state of anxiety related to the state of being) about the whole school thing. I have long said that being in this program is like having a second job, and last semester, that really felt true. There were things that I did not get to do because I had school obligations. I know that this is all about making choices, giving up something now for something I want more, later; it still kind of stinks. I wonder if all of this sacrifice will have been worth it. Will I be able to find a job? Will said job support me? I feel sort of confident (so maybe not very confident after all) that I could always keep my current job until…until whenever. I am not saying that as a bad thing. Indeed, it is a very good thing. I love my job. I have an awesome boss who supports me and helps me to be a better employee/servant/church member/person. It is a fantastic situation, and ordinarily, I would be happy to be in this job until the cows come home. I just feel like God has placed something else on my heart. How to reconcile the need to make a living while still working in a field quickly becoming oversaturated with new graduates (hey, classmates!)? The whole topic gives me waves of nausea. Yep, one just washed over me. See? Oh, there goes another one.

I often say to people, “Either you trust God or you don’t. He’s not partially sovereign. Either you believe he is who he says he is or you don’t. The Bible is not partially true. It is true or it isn’t.” I should be less glib with those words! Even though I am still two years away from job-seeking, I am having, right at this moment, a full-on panic attack thinking about job searching, finding a position where I can work as an intern, the whole nine yards.

I should not do this. I should instead focus on my reading for this week, the paper I have to write for the class I took last week, and the papers I will have to write for the class I’m currently taking (would you believe my current class is Career Counseling? God is funny.)

So here I am, back to the beginning, wondering a) if I’m suited for counseling, given the gaggle-pack of insecurities and imperfections I have; b) if the sacrifices I’m making for this program will prove to be worthwhile ones in the end; and c) if ultimately, can I make this work? Do I have the resources to pull this off?

My answers so far: a) Yes, despite the insecurities and imperfections. Perfection is boring. ;) b) Yes, nothing worth having comes easily. c) No, I don’t have the resources, but God does. He will supply all of my needs according to his riches in glory. He will supply what I need regarding wisdom (James 1:5!) as well as the other things I’ll need to do this.

I am overwhelmed and feeling a little unsettled. I love situations where the solution is obvious and tied up with a bow. That is decidedly not what I have here.

I suppose this is one of those faith-making moments.

Huh.

another day to remember

30 Wednesday Nov 2011

Posted by in inner monologue, Mom

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Today marks the anniversary of my Mom’s funeral. There are so many things about that day that were precious and special to me and I often replay those moments in my memory; they are sources of comfort and hope. That I would feel hope during/after a funeral is nothing but a testimony to how God works in ways my finite, fallible mind cannot comprehend.

I marvel at what he has done. Even in the darkest night, he reigns.

tuesday’s second meeting

30 Wednesday Nov 2011

Posted by in asides, work

≈ 2 Comments

Not a complaint, but an observation.

What was said: You can assign me to a spot, but this is just a really great time for me to shake hands with my key leaders.

What was meant: I’m going to be there, but I will be late and I’m not going to do a lick of work.

[I was born at 6:45 in the morning, but it wasn't yesterday morning.]

closer to the end than the beginning

27 Sunday Nov 2011

Posted by in Holiday Song of the Day, student life

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The class I’m currently enrolled in is the hardest class yet. There is so much material and it’s so dense and I don’t understand all of it. I typically read assignments twice because I seriously don’t understand the material the first time. And that reading things twice business? IT TAKES FOREVER.

Every time I enroll in a class I have a little bit of fear that that will be the class that gets the best of me. So far, I have had success in all of my classes. Great success, even.

I seem to have met my match in Theories of Counseling.

I am worried about this class, although as I type those very words, God whispers to me, “Oh. Did you think you were doing all of that other stuff? Nope. That was me. Trust me. I haven’t brought you this far to drop you off to fend for yourself now. Trust me, child.”

Oh, Lord, open my mind to receive this information! Give me the ability to think, to concentrate, to focus. Every good thing comes from you, Heavenly Father. Every good thing. You are the creator and giver of all knowledge and wisdom. I need you to help me.

——-

Holiday Song of the Day: I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas
(Because really, who doesn’t?)

thanks giving.

25 Friday Nov 2011

Posted by in family, friends, Mom

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I’ve written about my Mom’s death a lot over the last six years. There are hundreds of posts, here and other places, that refer to it directly and/or indirectly. Her death will be a part of me forever and I’ll never go back to who I was on November 23, 2005.

I think about death a lot. I didn’t before she died, but since…all of the time. I think about hers; I think about my Dad’s; I think about my own and about my sister’s…I think about death and dying more than maybe I’d like to admit. I wonder how it will happen, where I’ll be, logical steps regarding what should happen next. Essentially I’m trying to think of all of the variables so that I won’t be surprised again; being caught on my heels when my Mom died made it so much worse, somehow. I didn’t see it coming and it knocked me for a loop. I know this is a futile exercise.

As a part of my reading for my class (Theories of Counseling) we were assigned some chapters covering Existential Theory a few weeks ago, and for each theory or general school of thought, we are learning about that theory’s basic philosophical assumptions, model of personality, model of health, model of abnormality, model of psychotherapy (and a few other things as well). While reading about ET (Existential Theory, not the movie), I came across a quote by one of ET’s premier thinkers, Irvin Yalom, a concentration camp survivor, that stopped me in my tracks. He said:

Death itches all the time.

According to Existential Theory, in our quest to be more than a fleeting blip in this life, we must concede that death is always around the corner. The reality of death is a motivating factor in the way that we live. Given Mr. Yalom’s experience in Nazi Germany, his words carry even more weight with me. He had seen hundreds, even thousands of lives carelessly but purposefully ended because of evil thinking. I couldn’t get this phrase out of my head and for me, it has been true. (I’m in a much better place now and think about death far less often than I once did, but maybe still more than the average bear. This time of year I am particularly vulnerable to sad thoughts.)

——–

This week our reading is about Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy and I came across another paragraph today that really made me think. The section of the textbook is about the Models of Personality, Health and Abnormality of CBT and the idea that the things we believe have a tremendous impact on our personal well-being. (Though that seems like such a given, there are models of therapy that don’t recognize the power of our cognitions.) Here it is, in its entirety:

We see this especially in the area of suffering. When we view our temporal lives as primary and have as our highest goals comfort and prosperity, then suffering will be a misery-producing and faith-undermining experience. But if suffering is viewed as an opportunity for testimony for the gospel, as a means for fellowship with Christ in his sufferings, as preparation for eternal glory through learning how to loosen our ties to this life, and as an opportunity to learn to better comfort others, suffering can be transformed into a meaningful path that one treads for the sake of God’s love. (Jones & Butman, 1991, Modern Psychotherapies, p. 211.)

This is particularly poignant to me today as some friends are walking through their worst nightmare, their own version of hell. How is God at the helm with the worst comes to be? Why does he allow awful tragedy to befall those who love him? I don’t know. My heart breaks for my friends and I am reminded of Job and the work that God did in his life. He loved God. He was a faithful, loving servant, and Satan asked for permission to  test his commitment to God.

God assented.

Satan tested.

Job remained steadfast.

Satan was defeated.

God was glorified.

Job was restored.

I don’t know what God is up to. I don’t understand why he works as he does. I can’t wrap my mind around his purposes. If I allow my suffering and the suffering of those I love to take on a purpose, then I can see God at work in places where before I only saw darkness and the itch of death.

Today I give thanks not for death, but for life. I am giving thanks for the life he has given to me and the lives he has seen fit to call “complete.” Our hearts yearn for life, but he has called them home to live with him forever, whole and restored.

Oh father, grant us the wisdom to comfort those who mourn and to use the suffering you have allowed to draw others into fellowship with you. We don’t understand. We don’t like it, but we believe, in the darkest parts of our sorrow, as on the mountaintops, that you are God. You are sovereign. You are righteous. You are wrathful. You are loving. You are just. You are good. There is none like you. We trust you with our whole lives and the things most precious to us. Use these people and these things and use us for your glory.

38.52 miles and Psalm 24

20 Tuesday Sep 2011

Posted by in cycling, daily life

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This post is going to be about two (perhaps more, but definitely two) wholly unrelated things. And I’ve already taken my sleeping pill. Consider yourself warned.

If you would like to entertain yourself with other things, you can read about the time I bought shoes online while I was mostly asleep. That was fun.

I promise that this is not going to become a cycling blog forever, but for now, cycling is the biggest elephant that needs discussion, so cycling it is.

My big bike ride, the Tour de Cure, is scheduled for Saturday. I can’t believe it’s already here! It’s seemed so far off for such a long time that I’m kind of baffled that there are no more Saturdays between now and the big enchilada. 47 miles is a long way. For you local peeps, it is the distance between where I live, in the northwest part of Houston, down to League City. For my Arkansas friends, it is the distance between The Delph and Bryant. It helps to picture it that way. Or maybe it makes it more intimidating? I don’t know.

Last Saturday I headed out to Cypress to ride with the NW Cycling Club. They have groups that ride at various speeds and distances and I rode with the “no-drop” group on the 40 mile route…and I got dropped about 22 miles in. To be fair to the other riders in the group, I simply couldn’t keep up. There were people behind me from my group (I suppose I’d dropped them when I was riding with Tour wannabes, but there was NO WAY ON EARTH I was going to slow down just for company). There were some hills (that I didn’t ever think were ever going to end) and a lovely headwind. The combination was too much for me and in addition to wanting that bike ride to end, the other thing I was thinking about? My plummeting average speed. I have to admit that in those moments, bike riding was not fun. I was most definitely not enjoying it, but once I was out in the middle of nowhere, who was I going to call to come and get me? Humiliating AND inconvenient? No thanks. I finished the ride and I didn’t even have to get off and walk it any (if I did, I thought there was a good chance I’d never get back on), so I just kept pedaling. It was not fast and it was not sexy, but I did it. It was the hardest physical thing I have ever done. And I did it anyway. I don’t write this to be boastful or proud or for pity. I just conquered a personal milestone of some significance and I needed to tell someone. (Thank you for reading, you silent lurkers. I know you’re out there. :) )

I finished with a respectable average speed, but I’m hoping to best that on Saturday, of course! (The thing with cycling, as in running I imagine, is that there’s always a record to break.) I am nervous about Saturday. I’m nervous about, in no particular order:

  • What if it’s really windy? I feel so defeated by wind. I know that’s my problem to solve/make peace with/get over, but that’s what I’m dealing with.
  • There’s a fair to middling chance I will get lost if I get separated from my group. I have a map and the route should be well-marked. I shouldn’t worry about this.
  • Speaking of my group, did I tell you that I’m riding with my boss? He’s awesome and we have a great relationship and to be honest, he’s one of my favorite people. Having said all of that…I just bought some lycra biking shorts. Need I say more?

My eyes are starting to cross and words aren’t coming out quite right, so I need to wrap this up. Before I go, read the Psalm where I spent my quiet time this morning. Be blessed by the reverence due our holy but accessible father.

Psalm 24
    Of David. A psalm.
1 The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it;
2 for he founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters.

3 Who may ascend the hill of the LORD?
Who may stand in his holy place?
4 He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul to an idol
or swear by what is false.[a]
5 He will receive blessing from the LORD
and vindication from God his Savior.
6 Such is the generation of those who seek him,
who seek your face, O God of Jacob.[b]
Selah

7 Lift up your heads, O you gates;
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
8 Who is this King of glory?
The LORD strong and mighty,
the LORD mighty in battle.
9 Lift up your heads, O you gates;
lift them up, you ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
10 Who is he, this King of glory?
The LORD Almighty—
he is the King of glory.
Selah

P.S. I’m still in school, rocking the classes. I’m making progress toward completion of my degree and my class is going well, but DOGGONE the end seems like a long way off. More on that later. Thanks for stopping by!

why I ride.

16 Friday Sep 2011

Posted by in checking in, cycling

≈ 2 Comments

Next weekend, I will participate in the 20th annual Tour de Cure, a bike ride sponsored by the American Diabetes Association. I have signed up to ride the 47-mile route, which will be my longest ride yet. When I started riding a bike earlier this year, never did I think I would (or could) ride a route that long. I’ve never participated in any kind of organized sports or athletics and I’m still not sure I consider myself an “athlete, ” as that categorization seems more fitting for someone more disciplined, coordinated and, well, fit than I am.

But here I am anyway, just 8 days from riding 47 miles.

I have to admit that my palms get a little sweaty when I think about what I’m about to do.

So why do I put myself through this? There are two main reasons.

Firstly, I ride because I can. I don’t mean to sound boastful and I don’t say that in a prideful way. I ride because my body works. I have arms and legs and hands and feet that allow me to not only walk and climb stairs and dance, and that same ability to move means I can physically ride a bike. God helps me to remember that this body is one he has given to me…it’s not my own and I don’t have to look far to see people my age with bodies that don’t work as well. My health is a blessing. How could I not do something with the ability to move? I see people all of the time who have been slowed by injury, illness, age or some combination of the three. While I’m certainly not as young as I once was, I’m also not as old as I’m (hopefully) going to get. Move it or lose it.

The second reason I ride, and this ties in with the first, is that diabetes has impacted my family. My grandfather, Grandpa Charlie, was the first diabetic I knew. I didn’t understand what that meant as a kid, but whenever he was around I kept hearing about how he needed to eat every so often and he had to check his blood and give himself shots. It sounded like a complicated chore to my kid ears. As an insulin-dependent diabetic, my Grandpa had to take care of himself to keep the diabetes in check. Life changes toward the end of his life prevented him from taking the kind of care of himself that he needed to and he eventually died from complications related to diabetes.

My mother was a diabetic, and my father is also diabetic. Though neither parent needed/needs to inject insulin, the reality of parents with this disease means that if I don’t take my health seriously, the chances are high that I will end up with the same diagnosis. Though it’s entirely possible that I will die peacefully in the middle of the night of unknown causes, I have to do my best to take care of myself and for now, that means riding a bike. My diet is still not where it needs to be and I could probably use less caffeine and more sleep, but I am doing myself a solid by riding.

When I ride, I have a chance to clear my mind. I have a chance to be in my skin. My cycling has challenged me to meet, and exceed, various goals and I begin to think differently about myself because I’ve met those goals. It keeps me out of therapy. (Seriously.) It helps me to feel alive. I praise God when I ride simply because I can. I don’t take the ability to move for granted. Every mile ridden with a sore butt or a skinned knee or sweat in my eyes reminds me that the God who made me gave me this opportunity, this luxury. How could I not empty that cup?

So even though I’m a little nervous about the ride next week, I know that I will ride the entire 47 miles. I will enjoy the experience. I will ride because I can. I will ride in honor of, and in memory of, those who can’t.

Thank you to Dad, Aunt Rose, Randy and Kelley for your support!

Though I’ve met the minimum fundraising goal, there’s still time to support me in Houston’s Tour de Cure! Click here to go to my personal page!

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