In Hand. At Heart.


I was recently re-reading old blog posts from when I was writing more regularly - once a month instead of once a year - and I instantly remembered the relief and calm I felt when getting my thoughts out of my head and onto a screen. I wrote for myself and I wrote for a small, beloved collection of people who I knew (know) in real life and who were following.

I checked back in this blog today and was transported to 2011. I wrote about beginning my first clinical internship and the emotional upheaval I was experiencing as I began to learn how to be a therapist. I also wrote about my relationship with my dad, the last entry being less than a year before he died. And I wrote about my inner world and my challenges with self-love, intimacy, and being fully expressed.

A few things struck me:

  1. SO MUCH has changed in 6 years.
  2. So much has stayed the same.
  3. Writing with lyricism and symbolism is prose disguised as poetry and it is so fun. And cathartic.
  4. My feelings of loneliness and disconnection existed then and now, and may be a setpoint of my personality, and it appears as though writing more in a shared space would be a meaningful way to bridge the divide between my inner and outer worlds.
  5. I committed to living a big life then and I’ve continued to make that choice. It’s interesting how I lose sight of that (and so much else) as I get caught up in the circular minutiae of negative self-talk, and its not interesting at all how this circle robs me of joy and presence.

This blog was called In Hand. At Heart. which is what I named my private practice. Did I mention that I’m swinging for the bleachers and opened my own business?

It’s happening. :)

I’m freaked out about failing and about losing money, and attempting every minute to maintain the perspective that I will make more, I will make more, I will make more.

I’ve been living in Chicago for 7 months and as I have previously written about, the transition has been huge and challenging, and it has also become fascinating and comforting. There’s a charm to the Midwest that is completely new to me. People appear to be content to be themselves without defensiveness or pretense, and it’s been really easy to get to know people. Community is a big deal here, and while my biggest challenge in that regard may be my own tendency to isolate and not reach out, I feel confident that it will evolve and grow anyway, because it already has.


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