Complimentary Luggage

I RULE!

Oh yeah, let me tell you something about me: I am really, REALLY good at what I do. It doesn’t matter if I have 10 minutes or 3 hours, I am the master of my thing. What is “my thing” you ask? Well, I could tell you, Really I could. No, no, I want to keep you in suspense… for now.

I’ve been doing this for some time. I remember in high school, I would look at the girls and think ‘some of you aren’t as pretty as the others. But I can do something the other boys can’t: I can find the beauty within you and unleash it, making it known that you and you and you are beautiful’. And I would walk the halls and look at the female students and think to myself ‘she has beautiful eyes’ or ‘she has the most amazing hair’. And while the overall package wasn’t much to look at (hey, I’m not shallow, just honest), I could appreciate the details and see infinity in a grain of sand.

Ok, now I’m just indulging (uh, and plagiarizing? That’s fine, I’m not getting paid so ha!). Let me tell you about my thing: I help people feel really good. And it’s awesome that I get to do this because I really, really like it.

I love feeling good, and there are a few things that help me feel that way: After I work out, after I eat ice cream, after I perform a task really well, after a beautiful girl looks at me and smiles, after other people tell me how good they feel because of something I’ve said.

After a lot of things.

hmm…. and now my spider-sense is starting to tingle.

Why is it that I only feel good AFTER I do things? I mean, I feel good before things too, right? Like… uh… like before I’m about to do really well on an exam because it’s after I studied so hard-HEY, waitaminute! Continue reading

What is a Therapist?

Aside

Over the years as I have continued my studies in psychotherapy, I have often been amazed at how varied and diverse the profession is. I started off with a general idea of what it meant to be a therapist and since then have found not only that my idea has grown in scope and complexity but that there are many different paths that people have taken towards the same goal. There are many different roads towards becoming a therapist and each bring their own perspectives and ideas on the profession. Often one is no more effective than the other even though they may differ greatly.

Since I have begun working as a therapist, this awareness has been reinforced by the diversity of perspectives and expectations that clients have of therapists and the therapeutic process. Depending on their background, their past experience with the mental health and their goals for coming to therapy, their concept of who I am, or what my role is as a therapist can look pretty different.

Rather than just talking about the different perspectives that people have of therapists, I thought it would be interesting to use this blog as an opportunity to hear from different people’s perspectives and highlight some of the similarities and differences that exist.

In the comments section below, write the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the question “What is a Therapist?”.

It could be a word, or an image, or a feeling or a more elaborate description depending on what feels right to you. In this there’s no right or wrong answers, only different perspectives.

Fearful Heroism

Wow.

Seriously, I’ve been staring at this screen for about half an hour and I’ve got nothing. I’ve started this article three times and it’s all been pretentious crap, like I’m some kind of poetic blogger. It’s been a awhile since I’ve blogged and I just… well…I don’t think I’m ready to write. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of ideas but they weren’t just right, you know? Each one of these articles is a piece of me and I really want to give the appropriate piece. And I’m not trying to avoid it, I just don’t want to screw it up.

Ok, maybe if I find out what’s going on for me, I can get some work done instead of just mull around and pretend to be busy. So I sat down at the computer after making a promise to write this week. I clicked on the page and boom, froze. Like I have nothing to say. But there is plenty going on inside of me, just nothing that I want to admit to the world. I mean, I don’t want to come off as some kind of weakling.

Wait a second… screw it up? Weakling?

I remember being in school, fifth grade in English class and the teacher would say “let’s write a story” and I would flip out (in a good way) because it was so easy for me to just get a story started. I ripped off plenty of ideas but put my own spin on them. At one point, I blatantly stole a title from a well known children’s author by replacing two words: fourth and nothing with fifth and something. I wasn’t afraid to make things my own.

And here I am, tens if not hundreds of years later. And I am afraid. Continue reading