So, I almost allowed my father's illness to derail me from my big goal this year: Applying to Lesley University's PhD program in Expressive Therapy. For over a year now I have said that getting my PhD is what I want to do. And naturally, when you make a strong determination like that, there are forces in the Universe that conspire against you -or perhaps with you... They give you an opportunity to prove to yourself that you really want it or are really committed to it or are willing to sacrifice for it.
I was scheduled to take the MAT a day after Daddy's surgery. I did not make it. (But Daddy made it through the surgery). But now I have to pay for it all over again. I have not lined up my recommendations. I have not filled out the application or written the personal statement. I am dropping the ball - self sabotaging. The good news is that I have dedicated an entire day to doing just that - well as much as you can do sitting in a Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon.
Writing the Personal Statement has been something of an admonition of how much I really love this profession - and how much I want others to love it - no, more than that, to respect it. Getting a PhD in Expressive Therapy as opposed to something like Education or some other social science is a true testament to the faith I have in Expressive Therapy, and my unwillingness to compromise.
This same unwillingness to compromise continues to course through my expressive therapy veins as I stand by my decision to not sit for the Licensed Professional Counseling (LPC) exam. A few months ago I had breakfast with my dad and we were discussing this very thing. And of course, my dad, being the man he is, advocated for stability above all else.
"Take the courses and sit for the exam".
In my heart that would feel like selling out. That would mean that all of the advocating I have done on Capitol Hill and elsewhere has been for naught. On the other hand, I know that there are some people who would look at my situation and think I am absolutely nuts for not sitting for the exam. The likelihood that Georgia will ever offer a Creative Arts Therapy Licensure is pretty small - especially seeing as how I am the only drama therapist in the state of Georgia. And yet I have faith that if I stay the course something is bound to change.
Anyone who has ever watched the ball drop in Times Square knows that there is such incredible anticipation as the clock counts down to a new year. Naturally once the ball gets to the end of its course, it is not the end at all, but the beginning. I think of that ball metaphorically and let it represent my PhD. Right now it is at the top of the tower and it is not budging. Does it know the clock is ticking?! It needs to get moving before the new year goes on without me.
And so I make this public declaration of my love for and commitment to this work. I am publicly acknowledging that I am applying to the PhD program at Lesley University. It is my sincere hope that this love and commitment is not unrequited. It is my wish that Expressive Therapy - or more specifically - drama therapy love and commit to me back. I am holding my unseen witnesses accountable to this commitment in much the same way a bride and groom hold their community responsible for the integrity of their marriage. I touch and agree with you all out in the ether who support me and this work. I am ready to push forward to more-ness.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Closing Circles
This, my first post of 2013, comes with a tinge of sadness. My family and I have discovered over the last several weeks that my dad has stage 3/4 cancer and it is aggressively metastasizing. Prior to his diagnosis, he sustained injuries from a terrible fall. He cracked his sternum, a very hard and difficult bone to fracture; cracked three ribs and his T-10 vertebra.
This incredible man - who, to me, has always been a force of nature... who has taken up a tremendous amount of space in my life... This all powerful creature who has influenced so many of my choices (right or wrong - good or bad), has now become vulnerable. I never conceived of a time when my father would no longer appear larger than life, and yet, even sitting in his oversized recliner he remains the dictator - at times barking orders , brittle, and defiant. At other times, he is as helpless as a baby - though grateful - tremendously grateful.
Although my father has been a very consistent part of my life - all of my life - I was raised by a single mom. So, I never had the experience of living under the same roof with two parents. Since caretaking my daddy, I have been staying overnight with him and my step mom 4 out of 7 days a week. One night, I came in from work, ran up the stairs, dropped off my stuff, and changed into my sweats. I ran back down stairs and my dad was sitting in the recliner watching the game while my step mom read the paper on the sofa. I sat down between them reading a book and half heartedly watching the game (my team was loosing). And then it hit me like a bolt of lightening - a circle had been closed. For the first time I viscerally felt what it was like to actually live in the house with two parents. It was something I felt deep in my gut. It felt like goodness - rightness. It felt safe and secure. Suddenly, I wanted every person in the world to have this feeling. It was as if I had engaged them in my own little drama - my own improvisation of "family wholeness". And it had nothing to do with anything they actually did. They were simply being themselves and going about their routines per usual. It was I who had slipped myself into their lives.
I have been in caretaking mode for the last three weeks, taking on the roles of physical therapist, occupational therapist, spiritual leader, secretary, custodian, and nurse (or as my dad would call me "Nurse Ratched"). I am also maintaining my roles of therapist, friend, playmate, etc. I am reminded that one of my most beloved professors once introduced drama therapy as a philosophy of life. And I take note of the ease with which I have been navigating those roles. How easily I slip them on and slough them off when no longer useful. I am the drama therapy definition of health. There is no role dissonance here! Oddly enough, I am not being facetious. After years of studying and practicing drama therapy, it makes sense that there would come a time when the student becomes a drama therapy master of herself (for right now). Robert Landy, my esteemed professor and advisor from NYU, developed a "Role Profile" which can be used as a diagnostic tool for therapy clients. He suggested that we use this "diagnostic" on ourselves from time to time as something of a check in. And I do. There are some roles that remain consistent and there are some roles which are in flux.
And it is all okay. I am constantly evolving.
A circle has been closed, and new circles are generating all of the time.
This incredible man - who, to me, has always been a force of nature... who has taken up a tremendous amount of space in my life... This all powerful creature who has influenced so many of my choices (right or wrong - good or bad), has now become vulnerable. I never conceived of a time when my father would no longer appear larger than life, and yet, even sitting in his oversized recliner he remains the dictator - at times barking orders , brittle, and defiant. At other times, he is as helpless as a baby - though grateful - tremendously grateful.
Although my father has been a very consistent part of my life - all of my life - I was raised by a single mom. So, I never had the experience of living under the same roof with two parents. Since caretaking my daddy, I have been staying overnight with him and my step mom 4 out of 7 days a week. One night, I came in from work, ran up the stairs, dropped off my stuff, and changed into my sweats. I ran back down stairs and my dad was sitting in the recliner watching the game while my step mom read the paper on the sofa. I sat down between them reading a book and half heartedly watching the game (my team was loosing). And then it hit me like a bolt of lightening - a circle had been closed. For the first time I viscerally felt what it was like to actually live in the house with two parents. It was something I felt deep in my gut. It felt like goodness - rightness. It felt safe and secure. Suddenly, I wanted every person in the world to have this feeling. It was as if I had engaged them in my own little drama - my own improvisation of "family wholeness". And it had nothing to do with anything they actually did. They were simply being themselves and going about their routines per usual. It was I who had slipped myself into their lives.
I have been in caretaking mode for the last three weeks, taking on the roles of physical therapist, occupational therapist, spiritual leader, secretary, custodian, and nurse (or as my dad would call me "Nurse Ratched"). I am also maintaining my roles of therapist, friend, playmate, etc. I am reminded that one of my most beloved professors once introduced drama therapy as a philosophy of life. And I take note of the ease with which I have been navigating those roles. How easily I slip them on and slough them off when no longer useful. I am the drama therapy definition of health. There is no role dissonance here! Oddly enough, I am not being facetious. After years of studying and practicing drama therapy, it makes sense that there would come a time when the student becomes a drama therapy master of herself (for right now). Robert Landy, my esteemed professor and advisor from NYU, developed a "Role Profile" which can be used as a diagnostic tool for therapy clients. He suggested that we use this "diagnostic" on ourselves from time to time as something of a check in. And I do. There are some roles that remain consistent and there are some roles which are in flux.
And it is all okay. I am constantly evolving.
A circle has been closed, and new circles are generating all of the time.
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