#selfcare
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Yeahhhhh….I totally forgot to write yesterday for NaNoWriMo. That didn’t last too long, but I am making it a point to get back on track. I will admit that getting back on track has definitely been one of the strongest lessons I’ve learned in life. Time and time again, I’ve struggled with keeping momentum going.
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Dear Dad, , I know we talk every day, but it has been a year since I last wrote to you. It’s been a fucking year. Holy shit. I remember driving to my client’s house at around 12:30 on Halloween last year when your wife called me hysterically crying. She couldn’t even get the words
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Howdy, y’all! It’s been a few weeks. My New Year’s resolution to post at least once a week has obviously gone out the window. Sadly, this time was due to lack of time. The last few weeks have been chock full of two jobs, bachelor parties, weddings, and medical appointments. Most of it was run-of-the-mill,
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I genuinely look forward to my own weekly therapy sessions. It helps me to air out and organize my thoughts, while being given feedback from a therapist in respect and gel with. Typically, I leave the sessions feeling better about myself and whatever I discussed. However, I know as both a counselor and client that
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Growing up, I was obsessed with cartoons. I watched Rugrats and Spongebob before jumping on the schoolbus. I got home from school around 3 o’clock every day, which was just in time to plop down in my favorite chair to catch the latest episode of Pokemon. At night, it was whatever I could catch on
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I abhor the word “normal.” Nothing in this godforsaken world is “normal.” Of course, it is definitely more along the lines of a spectrum of what is socially acceptable. When you meet someone new, you shake their hand, give them a fist bump, or at least introduce yourself by name. You do not go up
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My neck. My back. Ouch. My back. Cut! We are stopping there. My back hurts. I am definitely feeling my age more and more every day. I spent the better part of fourteen hours on Memorial Day piecing together two dressers, an office desk, an aquarium, and a guinea pig pen. It was likely the
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Shortly after I wrote my last blog post about how my behaviors mimicked those of my father, I came across the above picture on my Facebook timeline. You know, this was always part of my internal conflict about my parents. My rational side clearly knew my parents were flawed. It is a wonder I did
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I work at my drug and alcohol job only three hours a week, but it somehow always manages to teach me worth a lifetime. It was a small group that day – three women and me as the counselor. Two of the three invested so much time into their recovery. This was far from their
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I sat there one-on-one with a client in what was supposed to be a group session. However, it was… I sat directly across from a brand new client on a comfy swivel couch. Working only one night a week at this substance use program put me at a grave disadvantage in meeting clients. I never
The Caring Counselor 