Yesterday, I sympathized with a 16 year-old as she talked my ear off about how hard it is being a teenager. Because she doesn't have an ipod. This sweet girl doesn't have much of a filter, so I listened to several repetitions of "My life is hard because. . ." Until I dropped her off at her house (we were at a church activity) and was able to go about my merry little way.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have a filter, or that I had an audience to blather on to, because sometimes I feel like MY life is hard! But then I realize that blogs were created for just such occasions. Like right now. I'm just feeling a bit stressed.
I'm not sure what makes this week more stressful than most. My current caseload is really low on the neediness/crisis scale. No emergency phone calls, haven't got kicked in the back recently (oh, I didn't tell you about that one?), and people call and cancel periodically. Ironically, that's the stressful part. Because part of me thinks, "Okay, fine, let's take the afternoon off from therapy." But then there's a gnawing, anxious feeling inside saying, "Cammie! Your productivity! Hours! Hello! You cannot just let people off the hook like that!" I told a woman today we could reschedule (she worries what she has might be "catchy"), but that if she is still feeling sick tomorrow, I'll just come over anyway and sit with her kid on the porch. I feel pretty pushy doing that, but should I have been more pushy? Like, by insisting on coming over today?
I'm also working on getting a manuscript submitted to a scholarly journal on my Aruba research. Yes, if you've known me since 2009, it's the same research. And the same stuff I wrote my thesis on. Oh, ye never-ending project. But we've submitted, and are working on some final revisions (which are due by July 30th), and should be making a final submission and hearing whether our work is accepted. I am just so ready to move on.
Finally, in some happy news, I passed my MFT Licensure exam! I am officially. . .still a Marriage and Family Therapist Associate! But no more tests. And only 146 more hours of supervision.
Why does normal life sometimes feel so stressful? Why am I such a whiner? I need a treat. Off to find a brownie.