therapy
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During the week leading up to Christmas, I seriously wish I had a dollar for every time someone said the following to me because I would have been able to pay off my student loans. “How are you able to stay so positive/happy/jolly with all of this going on?” You have to understand the amount
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This past semester I was blessed with the opportunity to teach a college course called “Psychology as a Profession and Practice.” (I know. They trust me with teaching the next generation of bright minds. Shocker, right?) I essentially teach psychology majors about specific careers in the field and how to obtain those positions. Last week,
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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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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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The disappointment is real. I already messed up my New Year’s Resolution to write a blog post every week. I missed last week. When you fall off track, you hop back on and pick up where you left off. However, I will say I missed last week for good reason. I fell into a deep
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I’ve been feeling this picture on a spiritual level. This pandemic has definitely taken its toll on my colleagues and myself. Whereas most industries suffered, business in the mental health community has been booming. At my agency alone, we have seen a 50% increase in our caseload from 400 clients to over 650. That kind
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Just like many parents, mine drive me bonkers. They call me every day, and it is almost always when I am in the middle of something like work or sleeping. If I do not call them back within a half hour or so, a barrage of phone calls comes my way followed with “Are you
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Fucking Facebook. I have such a love-hate relationship with the Facebook memories feature. If you are unfamiliar with the Book of Faces, just like an ex-girlfriend, this is where it sends you a notification of all the stupid shit you posted on that same date since you established your profile. I sadly joined Facebook in
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Sitting in a psych ward offers up a lot of downtime. Other than going to group and meals, not a whole lot happens outside of the occasional patient freak out. Usually, patients spent their time watching television or coloring at one of the round tables. Following a tumultuous few weeks and a nervous breakdown, I
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Hey you. Yeah, you. We need to talk. I don’t know how to say it, so I’m just going to say it. This relationship just isn’t working. Seriously, let’s face the facts. We have been off and on for the last fifteen years. You come and go as you want. I lost count how many
The Caring Counselor 