Letting Myself be Bored

This transition to the new job has been harder than expected. The transition out of my old job was difficult in itself, but there was something that happened at the three-day mark of the new one that really hit home.

I was bored. Like, really bored. It's the same kind of boredom that hits around this time when I’m on vacation, but I’m not on vacation. This is a permanent change.

Well, shit. I totally, unabashedly panicked when I came to this realization. What do I do with this time? What if I’m always bored like this? What if I just keep asking hypothetical questions over and over until the end of time?

Also, I don’t know how I’m even bored. I’m already up to 18 clients and when I hit 20, I’m taking a break from taking new people. That’s 20 hours of clinical work a week with some admin stuff, but not anything that takes more than 10 minutes at the end of any given day, even when there’s a lot. I’m also busy during my off times. Like, really busy. The shit that I have to do just to live is ridiculous. How did I not make time for this before? Or maybe I did, but I just did it half-assed? I have no idea. But like, doctor appointments, dentist appointments (OH GOD I AM ALMOST DONE WITH INVISALIGN AND I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT IT I COULD SPIT) and therapy appointments. And going to the bank and just all of the little piddly stuff that we take for granted and think will take two seconds until you lump them all together and then suddenly they all take two hours. All stuff that I do now and takes more time than I think I gave it credit for when I had to carve it out of my day to go and do it.

My schedule has changed quite a bit, so maybe that’s something? I go in around 1 (maybe a little earlier) and stay until 7 or 8, and then I go home. And then I teach on Wednesdays and work at ES. I think this is the least busy I’ve been, ever.

My therapist and I have an interesting relationship because I feel like it's part therapy and part consulting at times. She's been through what I'm currently going through, and so (checking in on her comfort level always), I ask her questions about it making it clear that she doesn't have to answer if she doesn't want to.

Her thing with this for me is that I have finally arrived at a place where I'm not looking to prove myself to anyone. I think she's right in that I have to prove myself to fewer people, but I don't necessarily agree that I've arrived anywhere if that makes sense. If anything, I feel less sure of myself now than I did when I left grad school, even. I certainly feel more pressure not just income-wise, but also in the idea that I have to do something with these clients now. Of course I have to do clinical work, that's not what I'm saying, but I now have 18 families I have to show my abilities to instead of just one supervisor. Although, I had to do that before too when I was doing full-time clinical work and it was WAY more families than that, so I don't know, and I had no problem being productive then. I'm puzzled. Maybe it's just a muscle that I have to get back into working full-time because I had an eensy caseload before and now I've got a big one.

I brought up my boredom with my naturopath too when I was talking to her about how the transition was going (especially the "I don't have any idea about timing anymore and what is time anyway, so fuck it I'm not going to take my supplements at all for three weeks" of it all) and she validated and then was like "So, now you have time for self-care." I openly rolled my eyes, desperately NOT wanting the conversation to go to that. What she said to me knocked me off my feet a little bit, though - "The planning part of self-care is not sexy. At all. But it's the most necessary part of it."

UGH. SHE'S SO RIGHT. WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO BE SO RIGHT ALL THE TIME. ALSO SHE'S MOVING OFFICES TO A PLACE THAT USED TO BE AN ICE CREAM SHOP. WHAT THE SHIT IS THAT CRUEL JOKE.

So, now I have to get planning, probably my least favorite activity when it comes to things I have to do for myself. Seriously! The reason I was so resistant to the idea of changing my diet is that it takes planning and that's why I didn't want to do it. There were other reasons (like it's hard), but those were not nearly as compelling as the idea that I didn't want to have to plan out my entire effing week of food. That's just annoying. Like, Send Me Into a Rage kind of annoying.

So, I think this is the next step, now that I've bumped up against it. Become a person who at least doesn't mind planning things. I'm not even shooting for liking it. I'm shooting for tolerating it.

Also the acceptance of the boredom. Though today was free and I certainly managed to fill it up with a shit-ton of grading, so maybe I'm not so much bored, but I just really, really don't want to do the things on my to-do list? Maybe.

Who the hell knows.

Unwelcome Reminders

An alternative title: Why Oat Milk is Delicious Bullshit.

So, this whole gliadin thing and it being the biggest reason of several that I have celiac has been a challenge. The reason for this is oatmeal.

You see, I love oats. Love them. I’ve been eating them my entire life - they were a staple of my childhood, even! When I found out that I couldn’t eat them anymore, I asked my doctor what that meant. Like, no oat flour? What about gluten free oats? Or oat milk? The response was what I was expecting, which was no whole oats of any kind, gluten free or otherwise, but for the rest of the stuff, just give it a try and see what happens.

I hate this answer because it means more playing chicken with my immune system and I usually lose huge. Also, this didn’t make any sense to me; what could be taken out of the oat that would make it so that I can eat it, even if it’s oats still in a different form? I was confused, so I waited and stayed away.

Then I went to a cafe a couple of weekends ago and tried a maple latte with oat milk.

It was effing delicious. It was nice and creamy but not too heavy (like almond milk) or light or sweet (like coconut milk). It was exactly the beverage that I was looking for. It was probably the closest alternative to milk or cream that I’d found texture-wise. I loved it.

If I’m being totally real, I started to react before we even left the cafe. I started feeling a little hot, it was harder for me to walk to the car than it was to walk to the cafe (neither of which were very hard, I just noticed a difference), and then we were driving to go apple picking and I suddenly got so tired that I almost had to pull over and let Rob drive.

We got to the orchard and I was fine while we were outside, better even! Then we sat down to eat and it started to hit me. I swelled up like a balloon and just felt kiiiiiiind of awful. But we still had one more stop to make (I needed a new hoodie) and so we went to get that. As we were driving home, I was like “I think it’s finally time to admit that I’m not feeling well.”

Shit.

I’ve also been eating an excessive amount of dairy lately, so I’ve been trying to get a handle on that without much success. I just can’t quit you, cheese.

Really, it’s just cheese. I made the unpleasant discovery that I can’t have dairy-based creamer in my coffee, which I found out the hard way the other day (AND STILL TRIED AGAIN ANYWAY EVEN THOUGH I KNEW THAT’S WHAT I WAS REACTING TO, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME), but I’m managing. I’m figuring this out slowly and trying hard not to get impatient with myself if I slip up and really want some maple coffee with regular creamer, but it’s hard. These are permanent changes and I get resistant, even though I know it’s what I need.

The thing about it is, though, those times that my body reacts unfavorably? I was in the middle of feeling like absolute shit from the oat milk and I came to this really startling realization, which helped me feel about 1000% emotionally better about the whole mess that I’d just gotten myself into: this is how I used to feel all the time. Like, 100% of the time. I was constantly a little queasy. Everything was hard, like walking long distances to my car. I was always on the verge of a migraine. Like, teetering on the edge of A Big One. I was always this tired. I would be able to push through it, but I always felt this way. Why I had such a strong emotional reaction to how I’m feeling is for a few reasons:

1. I hated feeling that way and I was afraid that I had flipped a switch and all the work I’d done was for naught (it wasn’t) and I’d feel this way all the time again (I didn’t)

2. I feel this way so rarely now that when I do, I have a stronger emotional reaction to it because it’s no longer my default

3. I had a really strong physical reaction to something I ingested that I really shouldn’t have because I’m really intolerant to it and I’m mad about it. It messes with my internal stuff just biologically.

While I'm feeling better (even though I had a six.effing.day.migraine), the reaction lasted two full weeks. I didn't even noticeably feel human again until a couple of days ago. I had a big migraine for my first entire week at my new job, which wasn’t in itself great (and I don’t blame it entirely on the oat milk - I was pretty anxious about the transition too), I had to go get the tramadol shot to knock it out otherwise I'm convinced I'd still have it (I wouldn't), but I managed. With lots of drugs and tea and peppermint essential oil in the diffuser (which actually kind of worked miracles), darkening my office when I wasn’t seeing clients, napping during those times if I needed to, I managed. If nothing else, I certainly learned that I can’t have oats of any kind.

Now that I have more time and freedom, I’m optimistic that I’ll be able to take the time I need to really get this stuff figured out. I feel good about it.

(I also did the math and if I stay at my current caseload, I’ll be taking a pay raise that is significant. And I still have a bunch of openings. Snort.)

Also there’s a terrible something going around my office and clients and the ER that I’m doing per diem work in, and I sneezed a few times but feel no different, and I’m feeling like that may be the extent of my fall cold. It really, really makes me chuckle. I’ve usually been bedridden at least twice by this time of the season. So maybe I don’t have too much left to figure out, or maybe I do. I’m game either way, and that’s pretty awesome.

Professional Self-Care

Ok. Time for some real talk about mental health.

So, here’s the thing about professional self-care. Much like personal self-care, I don’t do enough. I just don’t. So when one of my colleagues asked me to put in a proposal with him to present at a counselor education conference in Seattle, I jumped at it. This was not FOMOP - I go to this conference every year anyway - and I love beefing up the ole’ CV, and I loved the topic - Simulated Clients in Counseling Skills Class (which I happen to teach and use them a lot). We got an education session, I fangirled because the daughter of the authors of a few of my books in grad school came to it and was like “I DO VR LETS COLLABORATE PLZ” and it was awesome, and just...it was an all around great conference.

I went to sessions about impostor syndrome (which, if you look it up in the dictionary, you’ll find my picture instead of a definition...more on that in a minute), liability, how to talk about sex with your students and supervisees, and how to coach them around leaving space for talking about sex with their clients, and self-compassion and self-care, and mandated reporting, and I listened to a great keynote about passion and work from a great author, and I left so full of knowledge and gratitude. This was all on top of seeing a really great friend and hanging out with my colleagues and just having an amazing time.

phew. To say that my cup refilled to overflowing would be an understatement. I had a seven-hour long flight home to start to unpack it, and what I came to is this.

I’m at a huge crossroads professionally. Huge. Leaving my job was so hard for so many reasons, but I finally admitted to myself just how much I questioned myself and the work that I’m doing and my very competence as a counselor, and that’s why I had to leave. To admit this to myself, I also had to admit to myself that my workplace was toxic to me. Maybe not to everyone who worked there, but certainly to me, and admitting that I could no longer tolerate it was the first step to stopping that internal train of not ever feeling like I’m going to be good enough at what I do enough to feel satisfied.

You know how you have those times that are really hard but you don’t really realize how hard they were until you’re on the other side of them? Yeah. That’s where I am now.

What I was experiencing before I went to Seattle was burnout. I can comfortably call it that at this point. It wasn’t to the level where I couldn’t work, but I came dangerously close. I had been having thoughts of taking some FMLA to give myself some time to rest and get things figured out. I also started seeing my therapist weekly again. I just really needed the support. 

Then I went to Seattle and somewhere in my head, the wheels were set in motion. I made the conscious decision somewhere along the way to leave it all there.

The grief about leaving this job and this team that I loved.

The shame.

The hopelessness.

The feeling that I failed.

The feelings of not being enough professionally.

Just all of it.

I got on that plane home a different person than when I left. My outlook was completely different and I finally felt better. Like, genuinely better. I felt like I’d been carrying a horse on my back that I was finally able to let go.

Better still, I learned what my burnout actually looked like. I have been intimately familiar for a long time with how I experience compassion fatigue (what I affectionately call burnout’s oppositional little cousin), but this was not that. This was bigger and harder to work with.

I also learned that what I need in those times is to talk about it openly. In the workshops I went to, we talked a lot about the costs of these jobs, which doesn’t get acknowledged nearly enough. And because every time I go this particular conference every year feeling as though I am around My People, I felt comfortable enough to internalize the validation I found there, and didn’t realize how much I needed it. I allowed it into those dark places that were difficult to sit with on my own, and just sat with this new knowledge and was able to process a lot of difficult stuff.

Do I still have a long way to go? Yes. I’m realistic about that. But I’m getting there, and that ain’t nothing.

Diet Ugh.

I found this great recipe recently for vegan lemon cake. It’s super easy to transition it to gluten free, so I jumped all over it. I was going to go to the grocery store after work on a mission to get all of the required ingredients and I was going to make it, damn it, because I need some cake in my life as of late.

Truly. I’d kick a puppy for some decent baked goods right now.

Not really, but I really want decent baked goods and I have yet to find any that are not total garbage or something that I can’t eat because of an errant ingredient, like eggs. Usually eggs.

Damn you, eggs.

So I’m in the grocery store on the hunt for these ingredients and I remembered back to my last conversation with my naturopath. She has been trying in earnest to nudge me toward being what she calls a paleovegan. No more meat, no more cheese, and of course, no more eggs.

So I’m in the grocery store and I’m finding it remarkably easy to find the ingredients that I need. I remarked it to myself even.

You know what my very next thought was?

“Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I should give it a try. She made it sound really simple.”

Then next?

“I’m already more than halfway there. I already don’t eat dairy at all outside of cheese, and my meat intake is negligible, and all easily substituted by beans and other things that will fill me up. I think I could do this. I ate that way for six straight weeks and I can’t deny how amazing I felt.”

I WAS TALKING MYSELF INTO IT.

UGH.

WHAT IS THE SORCERY THAT THIS WOMAN USED TO GET ME TO THIS PLACE.

So I tried it for this work week and it wasn’t terrible (I actually felt pretty energetic and fantastic), but it’s not super sustainable for me. It’s a lot of work that I’m not really in a mental place to do. (Talk to me in six months and things may be different.) So, what I’ve decided is that I’m going to find a middle ground.

I think what that’s going to look like for me is being a low dairy (rare cheese instead of multiple times daily) pescatarian. I’ve got to see how my doctor feels about that, but that’s where I am currently. I see her in a couple of weeks, so for now, that’s what I’ll do.

In other news, I start at my new position on Monday. It’s all orientation that first day and I’ll be there once a week until mid-October when I make The Big Transition. I set up my office yesterday and I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out.

This isn’t a super great picture, but I’ll get more on Monday. It is alarmingly clear how much I need some art in there, so I’ve enlisted the help of my very favorite six-year-old to make some that I can hang. I can’t wait! 

I think I’ve finally figured it out.

I operate as a liberal in a family full (but not entirely) of conservatives. A die-hard Democrat in a family full (but not entirely) of Republicans. Politics has come up a lot since the 2016 elections and at times it has gotten super heated, but at this point, I avoid it. Like, get-up-and-walk-away-from-the-conversation-without-a-word-and-no-I-don’t-care-that-we-are-eating-dinner-so-I’ll-be-eating-with-the-kids-thanks kind of avoiding. I’m just tired of talking about politics with people who are only interested in shouting their viewpoints and not listening. (And also now watch as I put myself in the exact position that I just described. I’m aware of the irony here, just in case you were worried that I wasn’t.)

And it’s never the liberals in the family who bring up politics, amusingly enough. Maybe it’s because we don’t constantly feel the need to justify ourselves.

I finally figured out my internal stuff about it and why I react this way. (Snort. It only took three years.) It isn’t because I don’t care. It truly isn’t. And my beef isn’t even with all republicans - just loud Trump supporters, because that’s all who seem to assert their position loudly and aggressively without prompting as if I want to hear it.

The reason why I avoid these conversations is because I’m a pretty empathetic person. I know that if I listen long enough, I’ll start to find their position understandable.

I never, ever want to understand a position like the ones that trump (and his supporters) hold. And yes, I added that parenthetical point because if you voted for him and aren’t now actively walking yourself back and doing what you can to change the tide (and I’m not even talking about going out on primary day and voting democrat - there are tons of other ways), you support what he’s doing. Full stop.

I don’t ever want to understand being able to justify voting for someone like him. I don’t ever want to understand the mental place of parroting back his policies or his rhetoric. I don’t ever want to understand how a person can justify voting for a person who has facilitated locking of children in cages and emboldening people who only want to hurt other people. I don’t ever want to be in a position where I understand, from any angle, hurting people on purpose.

If that makes me ignorant because I’m not interested in learning about that, then so be it. I decided a while ago that trump, his rhetoric, and the vitriol spewed by his most ardent supporters don’t deserve any real estate in my brain. Do they have some? Sure, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this right now, but I try hard to keep it as minimal as possible. Sometimes it just spews out and I am not entirely able to control it. My way of controlling the square footage that this occupies is by not participating. I won’t reinforce aggression on the part of those with whom I disagree by engaging. People can invite us to a fight all they want - it doesn’t mean that we have to accept it.

Wild Rides

So, these past few weeks have been a roller coaster, frens. I started applying for new jobs because it has felt for a bit now that it's time to move on. For those of you who have changed body shapes in your lifetime, either by gaining or losing a significant amount of weight, whatever the reason, you might be able to relate to what I'm about to talk about (and as someone who has both gained and lost significant amounts of weight through her lifetime, it holds up):

You know how you need to go shopping for new clothes and mentally, you're still the same size as you were before your shape changed? I went into my job search the same way I always have because I still operate under the assumption that I should do that - I'm still green, I'm not as competent as maybe some of these jobs require, and so I need to go for all of it; the reaches, the safety jobs, all of them. This makes sense because while I had to apply for the jobs that I have now, I've been in the same agency for five years. Before applying for this agency, the last time I applied for a job where I didn't know anyone was 2011, before I even started grad school. So, I was still stuck in the "I don't know what I want and also I'm not super competent or confident so I'll apply for everything" mindset, which is actually no longer accurate, and shockingly so. As a result, I started throwing as much at the proverbial wall as I could muster and seeing what stuck. I looked at what might be a good fit and that I might be interested in, and instead of saying "maybe I should call HR or talk to someone and ask the questions that I have" and approaching this job search like a responsible human, I just went for it and put in my CV in three different places: One that I knew that I was a slam dunk for, one that would be a good fit, even if not a perfect one, and a HUGE reach. One of them (the slam dunk) was in community mental health, and the other two were for group private practices.

Right.

That resulted in four job offers: one at my current agency, and all other three, including the huge reach, offered me jobs. Really effing good jobs. Jobs so good that I was like "They're not really offering me this. This can't possibly be true." All of these happened within a couple of days of each other, so I had a good while to sit in utter denial before I had to make a decision, and frens, that's exactly what I did.

To say that was overwhelming (and if I'm being 100% truthful, totally shocking) would be an understatement. I talked to friends, I talked to family, I talked to colleagues (who are also my friends), and I stewed and stewed and stewed. It was literally all I could think about. I was sitting in supervisions and meetings and it was in the back of my mind. I was sitting with clients and it was in the back of my mind. If I decided to leave my agency, how would that impact them? My sense of loyalty to this organization and to my team is pretty significant, and this was not a decision that I could or wanted to take lightly. (Also, who's going to move all of this shit that's in my office? There's quite a lot. That was a very prominent thought.)

When I stripped away the loyalty that I felt to my team and really got down to the meat of where I needed to sit while considering my options, I centered on the spot inside of me where my own values exist. I looked at my values as a person, my values as a counselor, and how that might inform what it is that I actually want. As I struggled with this, I realized that in order to make this decision, I needed someone neutral who knows me well, but also works in a similar field, and that I care about their opinion (that sounds like I'm a little bit of an asshole. I'm fully aware.). I had four GREAT options, all of which I would be lucky to take. My FOMOP had to take a back seat, because I clearly can't take all four, so I had to choose, which I'm horrible at overall, never mind with Big Stuff like this.

Then I knew what I had to do: sit with one of my best friends from grad school, one who will never hesitate to tell it to me straight and help me, if not make a decision, then to at least help me shake something loose. She works in the field, she's known me for going on 6 years now, at various points we have worked closely together, and she doesn't work in private practice or in community mental health (that last one was super important), but still works in the field. She gets it in a way that I need and will be able to take all of the shit that comes with making a decision like this into account, including looking at it objectively because she doesn't work within the environments that I'm looking at. (For the record, I can't even talk to my therapist about it because she used to work at the agency that I'm currently working at. Is she neutral and is her job to help me figure it out for myself? Of course. However, she's also human and this is a part of her history. For the record, she was SUPER excited for me and helped greatly ease my anxiety about it, which is fantastic.)

Friends, let me tell you. You NEED a friend like this in your life. If you don't have one, find one. I talked through all of my options with her. The good and the bad of all of the options, the risk versus reward, the money, the client work, all of it. The conclusion that we came to is "yeah, this is a really hard decision." But I clearly left with more than that, because I woke up the next day and was like "This is what I'm doing." I'm sure the wine spritzers also helped. :)

What I discovered as I have unpacked this whole mess that I had gotten myself into is that for me, it comes down to fear, as it always does. I've seen private practice therapists fail. I've seen private practice therapists go bankrupt. I've also seen private practice therapists do so much good and make a ton of money doing it. Going into private practice is risky and if we do it the wrong way, it's both expensive and disastrous for us, but also (more importantly), for our clients. What I also know about myself is that I could easily, easily have a second master's degree in Avoidance - the amount of stuff that I avoid because I'm afraid would stun you. I'm shocked sometimes that I even HAVE a master's degree, because I was so wracked with anxiety about it going in that I wasn't even sure I could START, much less complete it. Yet here I am.

A little bit of my fear was mitigated because both of the private practices that I applied to were group practices. One rejected about 100 referrals a month, and the other is growing and growing and growing. They both are, really. Both involved full-time clinical work (and by full-time, I don't mean Community Mental Health Full-Time with a caseload of 45-60. I mean four days a week, a reasonable caseload, and the ability to leave my work at work.). As I sat with my values, I started to realize the thing that was infinitely more important to me than the other stuff - that I want to be a counselor. Full Stop.

Has being a supervisor been fulfilling? Absolutely. I have found my two most trusted colleagues in my entire career from being a supervisor, and I know that these women will be lifelong friends and colleagues (and if I can get them to leave too, I have this vision that the three of us will start a group practice called Feisty Ladies Counseling Agency, but that's another story for another day.) I have also experienced being on a cohesive team with some of the most dedicated professionals I have ever met. Seeing the growth in my supervisees and watching them expand their skills and seeing how it has helped their clients has been some of the most fulfilling work I've ever done professionally. So, in short, if I was going to make the decision to leave this team, it had better be for a really good effing reason.

And yet, I knew in my heart that this amazing experience was only second fiddle to being a full-time counselor. The growth we see in the therapy room is nothing short of miraculous sometimes. Sometimes we sit with our clients for sometimes years at a time and see only small growth, sometimes we see growth in big spurts, sometimes we don't see growth, and everything in between. We sit with someone's pain, and we may be the first safe person they actually encounter. If we are able to sit with people in their pain and their growth and their victories and their failures and have it all happen in the safety of the container that we create as therapists, then it's incredibly gratifying work. A colleague once asked me where I found my joy, and it's this. It's not that I didn't find joy in being a supervisor and working with an INCREDIBLE team of people, because I definitely did, but it looks different. Could I help a bigger volume of people in my supervisory work? You bet. But that's not where my biggest strength is, and it's not where I do my most compelling and fulfilling work. As a person, I've always been better at the one-on-one. Indirect work can be difficult because you're not directly seeing your impact. You're not always directly seeing your impact as an individual therapist either, but there's something more compelling about direct work to me.

So, I've finally, finally made my decision and have told the people I need to tell in order to feel comfortable making it fully public. I'm going with one of the group practices, the huge reach. Will I experience some anxiety with this transition? Of course I will. No question. But I think ultimately, it's the right choice. It has also started to shake something loose in me and I have been looking at ways that I can actively pursue further training in certain areas, like play therapy or eating disorders. Plus I'll be able to keep teaching, which was really, really important to me. I was having doubts about being able to continue with teaching after this summer because it was so hectic with two classes, but if I go with the group practice, the flexibility in my schedule will allow for me to teach because I'll be in the office less.

The only difficulties that I see potentially for myself are:

1. I won't get paid right away (which I'm hoping I'll be able to stave off by easing out of my agency and into the private practice in a few different ways and I don't know exactly how it will shake out yet, but it will) - this is only temporary, so it will be manageable.

2. I'm going to have a lot more free time. When I told my therapist that I was making this decision, you know what her immediate response was, I mean, without even thinking? "You're going to go crazy with all of the free time you'll have in the beginning. DON'T FILL IT." (Yeah, after 6 years with her, she's definitely got my number.) I definitely think this is going to be an adjustment. There won't be the constant pressure to produce and if anyone is putting it on me, it's me putting it on myself - I know that this is usually the case, but community mental health is a different beast. But, the thing that I'm the most excited about around this? Yoga classes. Maybe some knitting classes or joining a running club. More time to be active in ways that are meaningful and enriching to me. More time to take care of myself in ways that I really need but can never seem to be able to carve out for myself. I'm already making a list of stuff I want to do and I'm super excited.

But most importantly, I'm ready. Like, Shopping for Chairs and Office Furniture and Toys and Games and Super Excited kind of ready. I go to my orientation on September 16, and I go to pick up my keys on Wednesday and start to move stuff in dribs and drabs and my last day in my current role is October 18. And of course, in the middle of all of this transition, I’m going to Seattle to attend and present at a national conference. NBD.

My timing has never been that great, has it? Oh well. It always works out in my favor somehow. Here I go!

FOMOP

Fear Of Missing Out Professionally has been probably my biggest struggle...always, but especially since like day two of grad school.

My problem is that these amazing opportunities come my way and because they’re so amazing, I have been completely unable to say “this is a great opportunity and I deeply appreciate you considering me, but I can’t.”

Even when I literally can’t. Even when there is no more space to crowbar something in. “I’ll stay up until 2am several nights in a row to help put the finishing touches on a regional conference that I’ve been helping plan for the last eight months, sure!” Or “of course I’ll co-author that article!” or “sure I’ll take on that third class this is only temporary and won’t happen again, right? So I might as well take this opportunity to do something I love since it will only come once!” (Spoiler alert: when you agree to do more, that generally becomes the expectation and doesn’t just happen once. This lesson has smacked me in the face at so many points in my life that I can’t even begin to count them. Feel free to learn from my mistakes and just don’t do it in the first place. I won’t even get into how much we set ourselves up for failure by saying yes all the time. A soapbox for another time, maybe.)

Just wanted to give you the magnitude of the problem so that you can understand the gravity of something I did yesterday.

On Wednesday, I got an email from my research mentor. He’s writing a research design textbook for doctoral students and wanted me to coauthor a chapter.

I have never once in my life said no to an opportunity from this man. Shit, if he asked me to babysit his kids, I’d probably say yes. I have worked with him every chance I’ve gotten, because we just get each other.  There’s some weird stuff going on around him professionally that I don’t understand and try to stay out of, which is great because he and I have enjoyed a wonderful professional relationship for the past seven years. We trust each other a lot and work really well together, is my point.

Side note: was I really finishing up my first term of grad school seven years ago around this time? Weird. ANYWAY.

So I sat with it. And then I sat with it some more. I really wanted to figure out a way to make it work.

It should be noted that I’m going through some Big Professional Transitions right now. I’m not going to say any more about that because I don’t have the first clue what it will even look like, but things are Happening and I’m overwhelmed and my term is ending and I have a final to write and 32 papers to grade and final grades to post and student monitoring forms to write in the next week and a half. Then I have to write the syllabus for a new class I’m teaching. Holy shit is right, fren.

Through all of this, I sat with his offer. In my brain, I tried to find a way to make it work. I looked at the stuff he sent me. I looked at the deadlines he proposed.  I worked through in my brain how I might be able to make it work.

I couldn’t. There was just no way. So I said no. 

For those of you who know me really well and also read this blog, read that again, frens.

This has been a big summer for me. I took two weeks of vacation in July and while I was out, something just...snapped. I realized two things:

1. My professional life does not need to take up so much space in my life or be so hard, and

2. It’s that way right now because of my own choices. No one moved the chess pieces to look like they look right now except for me. My students may have written those 32 papers, but shit. I wouldn’t have this much to do if I wasn’t trying to cram two ten-week classes in this summer. I’m the reason that I haven’t been able to leave my house this summer because I’ve had so much work to do. I’m the reason that I feel like I can’t escape the pile of work. It’s me.

Is that going to change anything in the immediate term? Probably not. But, I truly believe that this summer was a tipping point. I’ve been railing against this idea that we are what we can produce for so long when it comes to everyone...except me. My actions have COLOSSALLY not lined up with what I preach. So, I took another step in the right direction and I am very relieved to say that I did, in fact, not burst into flames. I did not ruin this relationship with this man that I respect and admire just for saying no to one thing. 

Moreover, I will not get myself fired just for trying to scale back my workload or take some time for myself. I will not get in trouble for insisting on a lunch break every day and setting less permeable boundaries around that time. (Yes, all of these were problems before I went on vacation and are things that I’m actively and intentionally working on now.)

One day, FOMOP will be a thing of the past for me. I’m certain of it. For now, I just keep taking these steps and remember that it’s for the betterment of my own mental health at its core, which has to be among my top priorities or I have nothing professionally. (Personally either, really.)

Male Privilege and Cars

Ok.

First, let me say that I'm not talking about car repairs or car purchasing (and although I could TOTALLY have held my own when I bought my new car yesterday, it certainly helped having my husband there even though he didn't say a word and was generally a buttface on purpose the whole time to mess with the salespeople). I finally, after like ten years of trying to find one, found a car repair place that won't try to fleece me because I'm a woman and I probably don't know what I'm talking about. Stories for another day (like that time that a repair place told me that I needed $1500 in repairs for my car to pass inspection when my car actually only needed a small repair that cost me about $100. As soon as they talked to my dad, they caved.).

In September, I was away at a conference and my husband called me to let me know that he was broken down on the side of the highway. It was at the end of the day on a Friday, and it was pretty busy on the road, but he was stranded. Alone. I was three and a half hours away by car, and I freaked because I assumed danger.

(Sorry, honey. I'm going to call you out here. Though we won't get into the circumstances under which this happened and I WILL NOT GLOAT because I was right that you should have started to look into trading it in when I said.)

I have been talking about trading in my old car, a 2013 Nissan Juke, for months. Because I was painfully upside down in my financing, I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be an option for another couple of years. And yet...

When the weather gets warm, that car gets GRUMPY. Like, stalled at a stoplight a few times grumpy once late spring came around, and a few times in the morning I've had to really coax it to start. I had none of these problems in the winter, which is weird, but I didn't. It did this last year too a couple of times, and I tried to figure out what was going on at that time, to no avail. So I just let it go.

When things like that start to happen, I start to get nervous. Maybe my car isn't as safe as I thought. I hope I don't get stranded by the side of the road. I hope I don't get stuck somewhere like a sitting duck.

When women get stranded, it's not just stressful. It's dangerous. The last thing I wanted, having been through the experience before of being stranded on the side of a road (luckily, I had someone, a male, with me at the time), it was certainly not an experience I wanted to repeat, least of all running the risk of being stranded alone, which has a much higher likelihood of happening now than it did 15 years ago when it happened the first time.

So a few months ago, I started looking for a car. I went to a dealership that I know well, and they said to me that I'm too upside-down on my car to finance anything new at this point. Fair. So I waited a few months, made a few more payments, and the dealership that I ended up buying from was having this HUGE trade-in deal. Like, $4000 over trade-in value for used cars. I decided to jump on it to see what I could get. To be fair, my husband has been very understanding. And, when it comes to car safety stuff, maybe I do have a hairpin trigger (which I know is part of the equation - I've had a difficult relationship with cars in the past that has been much more stable over the past decade), but in a way, so does every woman I know, as they should. I've heard this a few times from other men that I know too - it's just being stranded on the side of the road - call a tow truck! It's no big deal. Stressful? Sure. But no big deal. Has every man been like that? No. But the vast majority of them have been. It's just this lack of awareness that I sense that it's easier for men in that situation than women because there's a lot that men don't have to worry about if they find themselves stranded on the side of the road.

So, most men in my life, I need you to dig down deep with me and check your privilege on this. It is a privilege to be stranded on the side of the road and to not worry about the person who pulls over to help you and whether or not they are safe, or if they will try to assault or kidnap you. (This worry happens no matter the expressed gender of the person who pulls over to help you.) It is a privilege to be able to call a tow truck and know that the person who is towing your car isn't going to try to assault you. It is a privilege to be able to just call an event "stressful" when the women in your life might characterize it as dangerous.

But luckily, because of my totally badass negotiation skills, I won't have to worry about that for a while. I just bought my first brand new car (it had 41 miles on it when I pulled out of the lot! Snort! It has a nice smell too! And no more hummus stains on the floor of my car when I made a very stupid decision to eat chips and hummus while driving and then had to stop quickly!), I negotiated it all on my own, and I feel really good about the outcome. It's a looker, too, with a kickass warranty. The best part, though, hands down? NO FOB. I STILL HAVE A KEY. FOBS ARE BULLSHIT, FOR THE RECORD. And because I'm Dave Ramsaying the heck out of my debt lately, it'll be paid off a few years early so that if I start to have this problem in five years again, I'll be able to trade in with confidence because my car will be paid off. I've got a great plan.

So now, I have to get schoolwork done while my awesome car sits in our parking lot, just waiting to be driven. :)

Coffee, we are now sworn enemies.

Friday was pretty bittersweet.

I stepped on the scale, as I do every Friday morning, to find that I had lost my 25th pound. Not too shabby two months in, if I do say so myself. I also paid off 2/3 of my credit card balance. Like, went in and cut them a check for 2/3 of the balance because that’s apparently something I could do and have it not totally screw us. I was looking at different ways I could pay it off, and I was going to switch to a card with a 0% balance, the whole bit, and then I was like, “nope. I’m going to just pay it off like we did with the pet debt - throw any extra money at it until it’s gone. I would rather have no payment than a 0% interest payment.” So, that was pretty sweet. I’m looking at having a debt that has chased me since undergrad completely gone by the end of the summer. And then after we pay off our furnace financing, I’m coming for you, car. (As in, all of my revolving debt will be gone by the end of the summer. HOW AWESOME IS THAT.)

ANYWAY. There’s a little bitter to the story of this day too, but only a little because I learned something pretty significant.

I’ve been having some...let’s just avoid being gross and call them digestive troubles, over the past four days or so. Not alarming enough to call my doctor, but I had to figure out what was going on. I was clearly having a reaction to something. Then Friday, by far the worst of the four days, I started dry heaving at work.

I tried two new things last week that I don’t ordinarily eat: macaroni salad (gluten-free and vegan except for the chicken) and decaf cold brew with a splash of unsweetened coconut milk. I had consumed both with reckless abandon for the previous four days because they are DELIGHTFUL. One was filled with soy (because of the vegenaise, for which my doctor gave me the go-ahead - if something is on the line of whether or not I can eat it, I always check), the other was coffee, which I hadn’t had in like two months and then had one regular (decaf) coffee and then went full throttle to decaf cold brew.

It was totally the coffee.

I am also not discounting the idea that it may be because I’m burning the candle at both ends. I left work Friday early and came home and slept for four hours. Then I went to bed at a perfectly reasonable time after eating a can of chicken soup and slept through the night. I’m tired. Two summer classes is hard, especially when I’ve never taught one of them before. I feel like I’m playing catch-up all the time, even though I know I’m fine and I need to just do the work bit by bit, and I have been.

But all that changes in five working days.

Five

Working

Days.

That’s all that stands between me and two weeks of vacation. Granted, we don’t have anything planned except getting a new furnace and I will probably be doing a lot of schoolwork and writing, but I will be shutting off my email and everything. Totally unplugging from my job for two weeks. I CANNOT WAIT.

Also, when I hit a milestone anything, I like to do something special for myself, and for every 25 pounds I lose, I’ve decided to do just that. Also, on a related note, I’ve been thinking about getting my nose pierced for several months, and said it out loud to Rob about two weeks ago. We were home on Sunday trying to figure out what to do with our lazy butts on a Sunday afternoon and Rob was like “LET’S GO GET IT DONE TODAY”

So, that’s what I did. It hurt a lot less than I expected, and keeping it clean is fine - not overly time-consuming, so that’s good. (Also a little entertaining to spray saline up my nose. Just saying.)

Now all I need to do is stop cheating on my diet and “accidentally” eating cheese, and I’ll be right as rain. :)

Time to Rant.

I'm having my first really serious difficulties with this diet. I'm surprised it didn't happen before now, to be fully honest, but here we are. I've been very mad for about two days. It started when I realized that I didn't bring lunch on Friday so I had to go out and get it and I was filled with this sense of dread: go to a restaurant and get a million questions and tell more about myself than I want to, or order something and then pick out what I can't eat (which is what ended up happening), or spend my entire damn lunch break in the store for something that I both want to and am able to eat. Neither is a great option, but it's where I am. I've only escalated all weekend until we went out to do a few things yesterday afternoon and I spent the whole trip home swearing because I wanted pad thai but couldn't have it without asking for ten million changes, so it was rice and vegan pesto for me AGAIN. I was really, really angry. Then I went to bed angry, anger-slept, and woke up angry. The words "this diet is not worth the bullshit and inconvenience it's causing me" escaped my lips last night.

Coincidentally (or maybe not), around this time, I also tried to reincorporate sugar. HOLY MOOD SWINGS BATMAN. I'm thinking it's a nope for that specific reason. It's probably the insulin resistance talking when I get moody after eating sugar, but regardless, I'm all set. I put a sugar packet into a black coffee last week and you know what my first reaction was, to my complete shock? "Ew." I DIDN'T LIKE IT. Also, I guess I'm a black coffee drinker now and I actually like it. I also had a sip of Rob's black cold brew the other day and it was delightful!

ANYWAY, something has been happening with alarming frequency since I went gluten free (for the most part) a few years ago, and I've been noticing it more and more as I get deeper into these changes. It's been more with being gluten free, but it's happened with other stuff too, primarily when I ask for something without egg or dairy that typically has it.

I'll order something (usually) gluten free and the person taking my order will ask, "Is this because you want to eat this way or because you have an allergy or intolerance?"

What I want to ask (but I restrain myself because it's not their fault) is, why does it matter? Why do I have to give a person my protected health information before I get what I effing ordered? Either that, or I wanted to give them the full laundry list of all of my medical shit and make them stand there and listen to it just to prove a point. I understand that they're trying to be extra careful because cross-contamination is an issue, but why not just be the same level of careful with everyone who orders something off of a menu that is gluten free?

Of course I know that the answer to that question is that it would cost an exorbitant amount of money. I get it. They have a business to run, and they can't carefully monitor stuff 100% of the time. I understand that. But there has to be a happy medium. Like, having an exclusively gluten-free toaster or something. Or, the better solution: Not letting people who can eat gluten ruin it for those of us who can't. I understand that this is a personal responsibility issue too. I also understand that the gluten-free fad is happening right now and that even if you can eat gluten, "it's healthier not to eat gluten even if you can." (Spoiler alert: It's actually not.)

PHEW. Anywho, I'm going to go delve into pinterest and see what I can find. One thing is for damn sure though - THERE WILL BE NO VEGAN PESTO AND RICE FOR ME THIS WEEK. NONE.

Positive Reinforcement

As anyone with a behavioral background knows, punishment does not predictably deter unwanted behavior.

You know what predictably ensures that positive behavior will continue? Positive reinforcement.

I went for my monthly naturopath appointment today and she gave me more praise than I was expecting. Things are better! I have to get blood drawn in about three weeks to see how my counts are doing, but the reaction she had to me being down 20 pounds, as well as all of the other stuff that I reported to her, really helped me to be more motivated and feel like I'm moving in the right direction.

It also helped me feel better about the changes I was making and the news didn't sting so bad when she told me that I had to still be on the candibactin for another month.

I'm at the point where she thinks I'm ready to reincorporate cane sugar. I'm to have a hot beverage with one teaspoon of sugar in it twice a day for the next two days, and then take it back out again for three days and see what happens. The purpose, the whole purpose of doing this is so that I don't have to be paranoid if I'm not eating at home. I can have some barbecue sauce on my chicken without feeling anxious about it.

A tall order at this point, the anxiety I mean, but we'll see what happens. To say I've been sticking to my diet with a hypervigilance I haven't seen in a while would be an understatement. I think that it's less about doctor's orders at this point and more about the consequences of eating what I can't and how unpleasant that actually is, and also wanting to maintain my progress. To be sure, I've done a fair amount of internal grumbling when I can't eat that potato salad because it has mayonnaise in it and I can't have that yogurt or it turns out that I shouldn't have eaten those gluten-free chicken nuggets the other day because cane sugar was the last ingredient in them. To say I've gotten pissy about it would be charitable.

But I'm slowly making my way. I discovered vegenaise, which it turns out I actually like a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I also got this machine that makes bananas into ice cream, and with a little bit of a sunbutter swirl, will probably be very doable as the summer comes. This diet does not fall into the category of Things I Cannot Do, it's just a matter of getting used to it. I know people who have been vegan for years (to the point where they forget what cheese tastes like - WHO FORGETS THE TASTE OF CHEESE?) or had very similar dietary restrictions and they went through the same thing starting out. They all say that it gets easier, and I can't help but believe them. I have to have hope about this or I will never be able to accomplish it.

But the best part? I continue to feel great. I know my counts will be better at my next blood draw because I can feel it. So for now, I just keep on plugging sans eggs, dairy, and gluten.

Reincorporation sucks, y’all.

I’ve continued on the road through reincorporation, even though I’ve fully accepted at this point that this is how I’m probably going to have to eat for a long, long time and the whole process has felt pretty pointless because of that. However, because I have forced myself to continue through this journey, I’ve discovered a couple of pretty important things:

1. I think dairy is a migraine trigger, and

2. If I’m going to have a reaction to something, the most obvious sign is sleeplessness, particularly as whatever I’m having a reaction to makes its way out of my system.

(The sleeplessness could also be due to stress, which has been pretty high as of late, but I’m due for a big dip over the long term in about six months, give or take, if I play my cards right. Blog post for another time. In about a month, I’m also taking two full weeks off from work. Not trainings or conferences, though there is a short one in there; vacation. I’m so excited I could practically jump out of my own skin.)

Here I am at 12:50, wide awake. I’m on day one of the “cut whatever you were stuffing your face with back out of your diet” part of reincorporating feta, and it’s not going so great. Feta is going to be a no, just like eggs and cheddar cheese, but this has happened every.single.time I’ve had a reaction to something. I’ll have gross intestinal stuff happen for a day or two, I’ll probably get a migraine, and then I won’t be able to sleep, all over the course of two to three days, and then I’ll be back to normal. Whatever the fresh hell that means lately.

The thing that I’m grateful for, though, is that the sleeplessness usually comes at the end of the reaction, so I know I’ll probably feel better tomorrow.

What does that do for my ability to sleep right now? Literally nothing. But, I will go back to my awesome naturopath next week loaded with information, and that ain’t nothing.

Sigh. Eff you too, cheese.

Awesome Doctor told me that as I reincorporate, I might get delayed reactions. I didn’t really take her seriously because if I’ve ever had a reaction, it has been quick.

Until I tried reincorporating cheese this time around.

The first day, I felt great. I was STOKED. So I continued to stuff my face with shredded cheddar, specifically. (I’m trying them all. It both prolongs the process of cutting out cheese and allows me to figure out what kinds I might be intolerant to.)

Then day two happened. I woke up this morning feeling a little wonky. Then I felt wonkier throughout the day. Allergies have returned, I have a headache, and I’m having all kinds of weird stomach pains.

Womp womp.

So, for anyone keeping count:

No eggs.

No cheddar.

No gluten, including gluten-free oats.

No sesame seeds.

I actually had thoughts of stopping the reincorporation altogether because it’s clear what’s happening - there were no false positives on this test, and I’m not super interested in continuing this game of chicken and risk feeling like shit several days in a row just to see what I can reincorporate because that answer is becoming clearer and clearer - nothing.

Also, I’m grumpy apparently.

If I can’t ever have butter again, I’m going to rain down hellfire.

HELL.

FIRE.

This is probably more accurate.

I see you, eggs.

Reincorporation started on Wednesday. Like last time, I reincorporated eggs first. Reincorporation is different this time because instead of eating one serving of whatever's coming back in at a time and checking for a reaction, I am to stuff my face with that food for two days and really try to elicit a reaction. I’m basically playing chicken with my immune system, which isn't in itself great, but it's better than just stuffing my face with all of these foods all the time and constantly having a reaction without realizing that's what's happening.

It’s harder than last time because I’m not sure I can stuff my face with anything at this point, but here I go. (Literally. I eat about half of what I used to in a single sitting. A single, normal-sized apple? Totally satisfying. I love apples the size of my head, but I can't eat that much food anymore in one sitting. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME.) I also have to log my reactions - according to my doctor, if anything changes in how I feel, I have to track it. If my symptoms increase, I am to cut it out until I stop having a reaction (which can take up to a week) and then stuff my face with another currently banned food, and the foods that I have a reaction to stay on the banned list permanently.

My body's reaction when I started to reincorporate eggs:

I felt like total shit the entire two days that I was reincorporating, and the candibactin protocol was even less tolerable than it already is. I had a reaction the first day, and I was all, "NOPE. I AM FORGING AHEAD FOR THE FULL TWO DAYS." It was difficult. It appears that my relationship with eggs is no more, friends. It'll take me a couple of days to recover, then I'm going to try mushrooms.

Womp womp.

Moreover, I found out that I have very mild celiac. BUT NOT (entirely) BECAUSE OF GLUTEN. Because of gliadin, which is basically found in everything that has gluten. I was like one number under the Holy Line of Demarcation for gluten, though, so it’s on the banned list. Also, I can't effing eat oatmeal anymore because of this - not even the gluten-free kind, because all oats have gliadin in them, even the ones that are gluten-free. WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK.

Also, I had a full neuropsychological battery on Wednesday. It was four hours long and pretty freaking exhausting.

Wednesday was a pretty intense day, y’all!

What came out of it is BIG executive functioning trubs. This makes a lot of sense in my personal life, but the question I can’t seem to get out of my mind is this: why isn’t it an issue at work? I can plan, I notice a lot, I’m not as rigid at all because I can't be rigid and do my job at the same time - it's not possible. I mean, I struggle if things are really noisy around me or if I get interrupted constantly, but who doesn’t? On paper at work, I have FANTASTIC executive functioning. But when I leave, my car is littered with Tupperware that I don’t bring in, my house is a mess and I can’t seem to keep on top of, and my schoolwork is a struggle because of that. All signs point to it.

I get the full feedback in mid-June. Until then, I wait.

In better news, I stopped taking my allergy meds because I wasn't noticing a difference anymore. Still no difference. So, my allergies are going away and that's fantastic, because the last time I went through something like this, my allergies nearly knocked me over and left me bedridden every single day and there was nothing I could do about it. It's also my most difficult season right now, and still nothing. I'm pretty freaking stoked about it.

Let Me Be a Cautionary Tale.

TAKE.CARE.OF.YOUR.GUT. If you feel gross, don't just start taking a probiotic. Go to your doctor. Get tested for gut-related things. Get it fixed when you're starting to have a problem - don't just ignore it and know that you'll die of something eventually and then it won't be a problem anymore. (Yes, that was legitimately my mindset for a bit there. Dark? Yes. Accurate? Also yes.)

Over the past two weeks, I have drastically changed my diet to cut out eggs, gluten, cane sugar, almonds, blueberries, mushrooms, sesame seeds (that's right, no hummus) and dairy because I found out I was intolerant to all of these things. (This on top of not being able to eat soy because the phytoestrogens will mess with my already dysfunctional thyroid. Yeah. I can basically eat lettuce.)

It has been incredibly difficult, but that's not the most difficult part of this whole thing.

The most difficult part is the gut protocol. It's called Candibactin (there's an AR and a BR, and I have to take them both twice a day). What it does is it goes through your gut and promotes the die-off process of bad bacteria and bad fungus that might be in your gut (I'm looking at you, leftover C.Diff, which is apparently a thing that can happen that was a special surprise, and also Candida). Combined with the diet, it also promotes the growth of healthy bacteria so that your gut can heal, especially when you take it with a probiotic (which I am. The fancy kind that needs to be refrigerated, even.)

It should also be noted that I recently got tested for celiac. I will know the results in a couple of weeks, and I think it is going to turn out positive for a couple of reasons. More on that in a minute.

When I tell you that the Candibactin protocol has turned my whole gut upside down (metaphorically, but certainly feels like literally most of the time), I'm not kidding around. The only comparison that I have is when I was going through C.Diff treatment, but not quite as bad as that. There are all kinds of weird side effects, and I'm not even at the full dosage for another week. My body is in full on revolt mode, and it is...we'll say less than pleasant. On top of that, in order to help facilitate the detoxification process, I have to drink three liters of water a day. Not a typo.

When my doctor gave me the laundry list of side effects of the die-off process, I got a little nervous. But then she said that I could take activated charcoal (which, spoiler alert and TMI: It turns your shit black) and it should alleviate most of the side effects.

It doesn't. I have taken it every day this week and nothing has been happening to help -whatsoever-.

Why am I telling you this?

Because if you eat like shit, this or something similar might be your fate. If I had just kept taking care of my gut after I did the elimination diet and been more mindful of the reactions that I know I was having to eggs and other things as I reincorporated, I wouldn't be having this problem right now. Or maybe I would, but maybe it wouldn't have gotten this bad, and I wasn't, overall, what I would consider a terrible eater before this. I ate breakfast every day, I had salads every day for lunch, I had sensible dinners during the week, so even if I did eat things like grilled cheese stuffed with macaroni and cheese on the weekends, I wasn't, like, overly terrible 100% of the time. I actually was not eating that far off of when I did Weight Watchers that time and lost 55 pounds. Legitimately! Except for the candy.

I miss sweet things.

Have I also mentioned that I haven't had anything sweet in two weeks? Not even honey in my tea. I've been really strict.

Now, on to the good part.

I feel like I could lift a truck with all of the energy that I have. I feel amazing. Not only that, but I can focus better. I have better follow-through on things that I start, and I no longer lose steam at any point of the day. I wake up in the morning refreshed because I'm sleeping better. I have acid reflux, and in the two weeks that I've been doing this, it has nearly disappeared. I expect it to be fully gone within the next week or two.

I have also lost eight pounds. That may not seem like a lot, but in two weeks, it's quite a bit. If I wasn't so bloated from the Candibactin, I'm sure my pants would fit better than they already do.

But the biggest thing (and I think this is both because I'm not eating dairy and going through the gut protocol)? I have been taking Singulair for about 3 years to help with my allergies. I say this with no hyperbole: Sometimes this medication, along with my over the counter allergy meds and taking multiple showers a day is what has kept me upright and able to function in this world because my allergies get so bad. I'm not a candidate for allergy shots because mold changes so frequently that I'd have to get them a lot, so I've had to figure out a way to manage, which was Zyrtec and Singulair together every day.

I stopped taking Singulair about a week ago and haven't needed it. I'm not going to stop my other allergy medication just yet, but once we're through walnut season and the ground dries out so there isn't mold everywhere, I'm going to try that too. I'm thinking maybe mid-June I'm going to give it a whirl.

To say that I'm feeling better is an understatement, and I also understand that this is a long process and I have to have patience. But, if I'm seeing this remarkable of a difference already, I'm pretty hopeful.

I'm also taking an iron supplement for the first time in my life (though I have a hunch I've needed it for a long time). Given the number of vitamins I was low on when I had my first batch of blood tests done, my doctor was like "um, I think you have Celiac. This level of vitamin malabsorption, unless you live inside a windowless house and don't eat anything but cheeseburgers, is not normal." So! We'll see how that comes out.

I'm actually excited about my health. I'm learning lots of new things all the time, and doing tons of research on what I need to do to keep up this momentum. I've also called my doctor a few times to ask questions, and I'm just getting a lot of good information, and the changes that I'm making are actually doable, which also feels nice.

The big thing that I'm working on, though, is not doing so much all the time. We're reaching the end of the semester, stress levels are high, and I'm ready for a summer slow-down. I'm not sure if I'll get one, but I'm ready for it. There are ways in which I will force it, though, and they're things that are totally doable, so that's nice too.

Slowly but surely, I'm figuring it out. In the meantime, I'll continue to be careful and adjust.

I’m just intolerant.

Setting: my new doctor’s office this afternoon, Looking at some blood tests that show all of my food sensitivities. (Spoiler Alert: There were a lot.)

Me: so, like. This could just be showing foods I’ve eaten in abundance before this test, right? I mean, look how high that can sugar one is. And also all of that dairy.

Awesome New Doctor: yeah, no. These are foods you’re probably sensitive to.

Me: but I ate a shit ton of gluten before this test. Look how high those numbers are.

AND: yeah, no. That’s not even a little bit what that means.

Me: ALSO MUSHROOMS AND WHAT THE HECK BECAUSE I LOVE THEM AND NOW I CANT EAT THEM AND WHAT THE FUCK.

AND: I’m guessing you have a fungal thing and that’s why mushrooms came up. (Quickly starting to fumble because I’m becoming more dysregulates than she might have been anticipating) and! You only have to do this for 30 days. After that we’re going to reincorporate very intentionally and slowly.

Me: THAT IS MORE THAN 30 DAYS WITHOUT EGGS CHEESE SUGAR GLUTEN AND MUSHROOMS. CANNOT OVEREMPHASIZETHE MUSHROOM   OF IT ALL DR OTTO.

AND: I know. But if you did the elimination diet, this will not be that bad and there’s a slight chance that some of these changes will not be necessaryin the longer term once your gut is where it needs to be. You’ve just got to be a gluten free vegan for a little while.

Pardon me while I go stuff my face for the next four days because I can’t start it until I’m off of antibiotics which is Monday.

Then I’ll just be crying for cheese for a full month but probably permanently.

Finding Words for the Feeling.

I have a hard job.

Like, really hard.

I joke about it sometimes to not give it so much weight. The difficulty, that is. When people ask me what I do for work, I jokingly tell them that I hear horrific things for a living (even though that's exactly what I do, whether it be from my clients or my supervisees. Vicarious trauma is a thing, y'all.). The more I do this work, the truer that becomes. There are times in this job where I've found it harder and harder to separate myself from the work that I do, and that's because who I am is part of the work that I do, to be sure, but also because sometimes I'm confronted with feelings in myself that I can't put a label on. For all of the work that I do in helping people to even identify their basic feelings (which is harder than it looks), there are times that I struggle with this significantly myself.

I have been sick this week. Because of that, my capacity to deal with all things is lowered. Also because my capacity is lowered, those things that do make it into my current capacity get more attention. I often have these weird moments of insight, and they often happen at weird times. For instance, I just had moment of insight when I was taking a hot shower and trying to soothe some of the yuck that is currently in my throat. (This is relevant, I promise.)

The entire time I've been doing this work, after I'm done hearing someone's story, or after a session that I know has been really hard for a client, I have a fleeting feeling that I've never been able to name and I've never been able to really look at because it's so fleeting that sometimes I don't even know that it's there.

The other day it happened again, and for some reason, it stuck. I've been having this internal thing happening since then around some work that I did with a person and for some reason, that feeling lingered. Yesterday, while in the shower doing the yuck-soothing, I finally was able to figure it out.

It was awe.

Sometimes as counselors we forget how hard it is to sit in that chair across from someone whose job it is to help us. We forget how hard it is to tell someone our story, and then to tell it again, and then to work through it while telling it again. I sometimes forget that I will never know how difficult or deeply seated the feelings are that my clients experience, and yet I go along with the boundaries and the compartmentalization because I think that if I were to ever just put those skills down and actually feel as deeply as a client does about their own issues, I wouldn't be able to do the job.

The other day after sitting with someone in something really difficult, they got up and walked out of my office because their time with me was done, and I got that fleeting feeling. It was just a second, but it stuck. I found myself wondering how they could even function, and yet here they were in my office, telling a perfectly coherent, yet very difficult to tell, narrative of what they had going on. Yet they did it. They sat there and did it. Then they pulled themselves together and went about their day.

Awe makes sense to me. Awe is the only logical explanation of this feeling (I say that as if feelings are logical. Spoiler alert: They're not.). There are times that I feel awe just going about my day, and there are times that I feel it and I don't know it's there. It's one of those feelings of mine that is visceral, and it has become more so since I've been a counselor. I find myself consistently in awe of a person's resiliency, or their ability to perform even the most basic functions of their day. Getting out of bed. Maybe getting in a shower. Maybe it's writing in their journal for that day. Sitting in front of me, even if they only show up and don't even say anything.

Part of it is that I've been there. I've been faced with the impossible task myself, so I know exactly how hard it can be to leave your house to put gas in your car and feel like it's a huge accomplishment. I also know personally how hard it is to sit in front of someone and tell your truth, even if they're paid to sit and listen to you and help you work through it.

A colleague about a year ago asked me what helps me keep my sense of joy, which is pretty abundant, in the face of the work that I do. It's this. If I can keep my sense of awe, I'll be able to keep my sense of joy. Even on the hardest days, I can manage to find something to help me keep my sense of awe, without exception yet. I'm hoping the day never comes that I search and can't find it. Don't get me wrong, some days I have to really look for it, but it's there.

Here's hoping I never lose it.