Tuesday, February 12, 2008

I guess

I guess I'll try to keep up for now. We'll see where life leads me.

One of the hardest things about becoming a counselor is knowing how to be a counselor and not being able to turn it off in my personal life. I know why your kids are acting like that, and I know how to make it better for you and them. I know why you can't find a boyfriend that will treat you right and I know how to fix it. I love you all and want to tell you, but I'm not your counselor--I'm your friend, your lover, your sister, your daughter, your aunt, your nanny. I have no kids of my own; yet I find myself handing out parenting advice. It's not that I pretend to know what it's like or that I could do any better. I've just spent the last 1/3 of my life working with kids and the last couple of years learning about the mind. I just wish I could figure out how to get that across without being a childless know it all.

We're supposed to be working on this huge paper for one of my classes. It's about our theory of counseling, how we believe people are in general, how they are when they're born, how they become good or bad, how they operate, how they get in trouble, and based on all of that, how we're going to help them see all of that so they can get out of whatever trouble that brought them to us. Everything I know about everything has been constantly challenged in my life. When I think I believe one thing, something contradictory slaps me in the face--and it's usually myself. Then to lose a friend so unexpectedly...makes you question EVERYTHING and leaves you with not a single answer. The harder I try to wrap my mind around things, the harder it seems to be to come to grips with it.

I feel very empty and lost and scared and vulnerable. I snapped at Kevin last night. My intense anger didn't match the minor annoyance of what I was upset about. It wasn't fair and I felt terrible. I told him that.

On a side note, I'm pretty sure God designed the small child to need a nap, not for the child's benefit, but the caregiver's.


  1. Yeah... it's like asking a proctologist for professional advice at a cocktail. Some things just aren't done.

    I'm glad you're keeping up the blogging, hun. It's a great release valve, I know. I'm considering starting another blog that my RL friends won't know about - as is, The Traveling Beaver is a bit censored because of the possible repercussion of having my mum read it. *gag*

    Grieving takes time. I'm sure Kevin understands that. You are blessed to have him, though, and I am sure he knows that too.



  2. I understand the need to sensor. My mom has no idea this exists. Kevin doesn't either, though I'd bet more money on him stumbling across it than anyone else I'd worry about.