Crap

The more I try to write, the harder it becomes, and it's not due to a lack of things to say. For the life of me, I cannot produce anything readable, even a blog post.

Recently, I have been experimenting with radical acceptance. Accepting whatever is, right now, in this moment, simultaneously accepting my shortcomings, while holding an awareness of the need to transform them into something healthier and more workable.

Letting go of my desire to produce something of any value, isn't making the writing process any easier. Neither adding pressure, nor easing up seems to work. So this is the part where radical acceptance comes in. What if I could radically accept that I am in a space where I cannot write, even with the pressure off? This is just what it is right now. Writers get writer's block; it seems to be a fact of life. As I am writing this, I remembered reading somewhere that sometimes you just write crap, and that's okay. Allowing for mistakes, allowing for crap. Okay, so I just experienced a revelation. Maybe I'll just keep on writing crap for a while. Because even if it is unattractive, messy, and completely undesirable to be in the same room with, I still enjoy producing it (crappy writing that is). I don't think that I ever realized that producing unreadable crap could be fulfilling. However, the bottom line is that I love to write. Admittedly, I would rather write something that has all of the vividness of a Chagall painting, and the light yet intoxicating scent of  L'air du Temps perfume. But for now, I will settle for ... crap.

Confession

I haven't posted in a very long time. There hasn't been anything that I have wanted to say. I haven't wanted to share my inner thoughts and feelings with other people. But right now, in this moment, I feel terribly lonely and empty; two very vulnerable and painful emotions. The last thing that I have wanted to do was to share my vulnerability with other people, since I have always equated vulnerability with rejection.

Maybe I'm being impulsive. However, I know that I need to write; it has been so long. It feels as though I have lost most of my ability to convey anything meaningful. As I am writing these words, I feel the emptiness filling up ever so slightly.

There are so many of you that I want to reach out to, but I hesitate because more than anything, I fear rejection and judgement. I never let my guard down; always on edge; constantly frightened of being hurt.
So much of the time, I am terrified, and this is the way it has always been for me. Sometimes I want to let people know that I'm so scared. I want to be told that it's all okay, that I'm okay and that I am really not the terrible person that I imagine myself to be. I live in a constant state of feeling as though I have done something terribly wrong, and I am just waiting for punishment to come my way. Although if I scan my memory I can't find the terrible thing that I have done. I've made some mistakes, but those things don't make me a bad person. So I carry this kind of shameful feeling with me always. I realize that some of you will judge me for confessing my vulnerability, and quite frankly I'm not sure that my sharing in this way is even appropriate. There are probably better ways to connect, and I may regret this later. But I hurt and I don't want to be in this pain alone.

When the Time is Right

I finished my master's degree in counseling six years ago, however, since that time I never felt particularly drawn to start the process of working toward licensure. I have wanted to focus more on writing than on therapy, and the whole process of applying to become an LAPC (Licensed Associate Professional Counselor), seemed pretty daunting. And to be quite frank, I'm not sure that there has been a time within the last six years that I would have been up to starting the process because it actually is daunting. But something shifted in me last Thursday evening when I was supposed to give a group journaling workshop at the Open Mind Center and ended up being my first individual journaling session.

My student had signed up for the group, however, she ended up being the only person to sign up, so it wasn't a group, which ended up being a very good thing for both of us. During the session I was feeling insecure and worried that I was doing a disservice to her somehow, and that she would walk away without getting anything beneficial. However, mid way through the session something shifted in her while she was writing, and at that moment something shifted in me as well. I realized that I wanted to use journaling as a therapeutic tool with people, and I realized that in order to do that I needed to start the process of applying for licensure.

Yesterday I began making phone calls, requesting documents, and filling out paperwork to become an LAPC. It finally feels like the right thing to do, and like something that I want to do. It would be all too easy for me to beat myself up for not starting this years ago, as I would already be an LPC by now. But I'm not beating myself up, because I realize that I was not ready even last Wednesday to start this process. It's big, intimidating, and you have to really want it to tackle it. I didn't really want it before and it was far too much for me to handle. Now I want it. I put off doing a lot of things because it is easy for me to feel like I am on overload, however, when I really want something I start pursuing it immediately and put everything I have in to accomplishing and reaching my goal. That's how I feel right now. There is no waivering for me with this, there is no putting off. I want it and I'm going for it. The time is right.

Because I have decided to pursue becoming licensed does not mean that I have forgotten about writing and what is most important to me. Expressing my creativity through writing is what centers me in my heart, however, I realize that I can also use writing in a therapeutic way that will help other people and also fulfill a need in me. I'm not quite sure what that need is yet. Possibly it is the need to be helpful to others in a hands on way that involves something that I love: writing.

I feel as though my journey has shifted and that the path ahead has gotten a little less narrow.This is an exciting time in my life. I am ready for change.

Vulnerability

So as it turns out, my interest for the blog has returned, not full force but a spark. Something in me shut down when I found myself feeling exposed and vulnerable. The truth is, I hardly ever allow myself to really feel vulnerable in "real" life. I stuff down all emotions that will lead me to that bad place that I don't want to go. I am extremely guarded and self-protective and I hate feeling vulnerable, ever. So, I don't let people in and when they try to enter my world, they frequently find that the gates are locked, or if they manage to sneak in past the guard and around to the back entrance they will eventually find themselves expelled.

The only time that I ever really allow myself to be exposed is through writing. When I write I feel safe, strong, and confident enough to share myself openly and vulnerably with others. I'm not sure that I need or want to give that up right now. I want to thank La Belette Rouge for sharing herself so openly, warmly, and lovingly through her writing. She makes the prospect of keeping and maintaining a blog an attractive and appealing idea for me. She inspires me to continue communicating through this means. Thank you La Belette.

I am better in writing than I am in person. In person I come off as shy, cold, or aloof. Really I am just scared. With my husband and daughter and with my friend Pamela, the real me emerges. Funny and crazy. But even with the people close to me I don't want to be vulnerable. But I can show up in my writing as an authentic version of me, and that will have to do for now.