I've been so tired this week. Lots of stuff going on. I have begun a new clinical rotation that I love. Really. It's not only that I feel like I fit, but it's also that I do well. There have been countless small moments that affirm, that whisper, 'you are where you are supposed to be'.
A woman came for her first therapy, but would not talk or look, she simply looked down and wept. I couldn't bear it. I truly could not watch this, so I pulled up a chair and we began to talk, about this, about that, and at one point I touched her shoulder and she flinched and looked at me startled. I ignored it and kept on, making a mental note not to touch her again, but I am how I am, and as we got acquainted there was laughter and I touched her again, lightly on her arm, but she did not flinch. At the end of the session, she turned to me, and laid her hand on my knee. "Thank you," she said.
And the whisper came, "You are where you belong..."
Another client was angry and there was self injurious behavior. I turned up the CD player, and began to sing, fortissimo, "Bye bye Miss American Pie." It helped and by the end there was dancing and arm waving, and I stood on the outside of me and watched this play out. The delight on his face as he pantomined the motions, driving his Chevy to the levy, drinking whiskey and rye. I watched myself singing loudly and unselfconsciously. Who knew? Who knew? I surely did not know that this person lurked inside of myself waiting for permission to step out into the light of day.
And once again, there was a small whispered certainty, "You are discovering what you made for." I felt an uncurling, a release of the previous 8 weeks of stress. I had really struggled to make it in a placement where I did not fit, not at all. Discouragement had begun to pile up in the corners of my life. Fear as well. I was sick at the thought that we'd spent so much money for an education that had only opened the door to yet another unfulfilling job.
Mix this in with Cara's concern for her grief-stricken friend who has lost both parents.
My sadness at losing my own friend to a disease that strikes fear in those small dark corners of my own thinking. Both funerals were on the same day, and I could go to neither. I made a salad for the post funeral dinner, and I stood in line the night before to tell her sons what a remarkable woman she was.
Last night, I collapsed on the couch and could not move. I was weary beyond words, and I sat there trying to convince myself to move, but I couldn't. I finally gave up, and lay down with my head on the pillow and watched the sky grow dark outside the window. In the darkness, there were distant rumbles of thunder, and I watched the storm come in. At some point, I fell asleep.