A few months ago I realized how much I had missed counseling and being in the clinical counseling world. I missed meeting with people face to face and hearing their struggles and difficult decisions but also their joys and breakthroughs. I missed hearing their stories and seeing how God was so intertwined in pursuit with them. I love both the role of the counselor and of the person being counseled. I think it's absolutely beautiful. There were also less altruistic things I missed about counseling. I really like having an office. I like my books on a shelf and things that inspire me on the walls. I also really like the paycheck. I think it's fun to be payed for doing the things I already love. I also think it's fun to pay the bills including the college debt I accrued so that I might one day be able to be a counselor. Lastly, embarrassingly, I like initials behind my name. I like to sign papers and then add LMHC, telling the world how important and smart I am. Honestly, I like the feeling of significance.
Because I was missing all of these things listed above (yes...all of them) I decided the next thing to do was to start job searching. I had rationalized my choice with the fact that I loved the counseling setting and My daughter, Lanie had not been hospitalized since January. I couldn't think of a solid reason NOT to go back to work and off to the computer I went. I spent a solid two days on my resume and cover letter and I'm not gonna lie, they looked fantastic. I was convinced the moment an employer saw what I had to offer they would be fighting tooth and nail to have me as an integral part of their team. They would probably even up my salary to sweeten the deal.
It turns out that job searching is a humbling experience you guys. I mean, did you know that every company I applied to didn't call me back that same week. Or actually at all, like ever? I thought for sure the first few companies didn't see my resume or something happened and I had sent it to the wrong person who didn't know beauty and importance when they saw it. When it happened three or four times, I started thinking that maybe it just took a really long time to get back to me and finally after a month it hit me. I wasn't nearly as important and sought after as I thought. I upped my game and started applying for jobs I was actually qualified for, even though they didn't seem as glorious. And some of those didn't call me back either. But some of them did. I was called for interviews and second interviews. It was honestly a blast. I started thinking maybe I should be a full time interviewee for a job and then I realized how old talking about myself day in and day out would be and immediately retracted my excitement of creating that job. Finally I landed on a position I felt semi-ready for. I had done similar therapy in the past and although it honestly wore me out, I knew I could do it. I accepted the offer on a Friday and by Monday I was in filling out paperwork and signing my name with my beloved initials behind it. It felt good to seem important again.
I left the next day for a conference in Chicago that talked about story and passion and love. We talked and heard about how to find meaning in the stories we were already living and how to help others find meaning in their own stories. It was beautiful. Authors and speakers that I have loved from a distance were personally looking me in the eyes and asking what I wanted. Not only were they asking that question, but they were asking me what God was about and how those things were able to be smooshed together. I ask college students this all the time when I hang out with them but I hadn't had a lot of time or even clarity to understand these things for myself. And when I did, it was terrifying. I realized I didn't know what I wanted. Like what I ACTUALLY wanted. I had an incredibly difficult time figuring out what I honestly loved compared to what I felt like I was supposed to love. Who was I apart from who I was supposed to be? That's a tough question to ask yourself. A worthwhile one, but a tough one nonetheless. I don't think I've completely figured it out even now as I right this, but it's a process I am looking so forward to in these next few days and weeks.
One thing was for certain. Every day at the conference I would be flooded with material, and inspiration, and I felt freedom to dream. And every evening when the conference was over I would go back to my hotel room and pour myself into learning all I could about this new job I would be starting on Monday. I read every article I could find on childhood trauma and mental illness and creative family therapy. Mental health and therapy in any form fascinate me, so I didn't mind all of the time and energy I was adding to my evenings. But the most interesting thing happened every night when I turned off my iPad and closed my books. I cried. And what's even worse than crying every night, is having no clue why you're crying. You guys. I felt like a complete lunatic. And I felt completely confused.
What felt even worse was the gnawing feeling or possibility that I would have to come home and tell Luke...and my friends and family...that a piece of me was thinking of quitting the job I had just committed myself to but I couldn't articulate why. And let me tell you, the fear that set in when I started seeing the future where I quit my new job was a beast. I started thinking...
The money that I'll make from this therapy position will be so incredibly helpful. Who doesn't want to double their income? And pay off school loans? And feel like a valuable and contributing member of their family?
And what will I tell people? They'll think I'm lazy...or wishy washy or even flaky. Those three adjectives alone can send my fragile identity into a tornado of negative and self depreciating thoughts.
And what will Luke think? Will he be frustrated and annoyed at my lack of commitment? Will he tell me he supports whatever I choose, but then silently seethe at my seemingly selfish choice? And also...will he be embarrassed and therefore love me less?
And even though I had tried I didn't know how to form my thoughts when talking through this decision with people. I felt unclear and ridiculous. How could I tell people that I was turning down a solid and great job because I something inside of me felt wrong. Don't ask me what...I didn't know. I wrestled all week feeling the need to be all in to this new job so I immersed myself in it, but couldn't deny that there was a disconnect in my heart. On the way home from Chicago I tried to set up calls with a few people who love Jesus and who tend to lean on the side of adventure and ridiculousness. People who aren't traditional in their thinking or in their love. Only one person had some time during that drive to talk, which allowed me plenty of time alone to think and pray and rock out to some sweet music (which in hindsight was even more of God's sovereignty). I love and value people and what they say. Probably too much. But wasn't that one of the real problems? I didn't trust or value who I was in this. God is a genius.
The one person I talked to called me two hours into my three and a half hour drive home. Perfect again. I had some good processing time before the phone call to not seem like a rambling delusional person when trying to talk plus still had enough time to enjoy the conversation which included asking this girl just how crazy I was on a scale of one to The Joker. My friend asked me a couple of questions about the conference in regards to content and then said "so what's up? I know God's doing something". You guys. That statement was all the freedom I needed to spill my heart. I felt understood even before I had been listened to. I told her my heart. And my concerns. And how I had been seriously wrecked but didn't understand why or even how. She listened and laughed and asked me more good questions. When I was done talking there was a fairly long pause and then she started laughing. Like hysterically. I started laughing too. It's contagious. She told me that this last year I hadn't felt like it was my choice to 'stay home' and coach girls and do counseling on the side and pick up the kids from school. I felt like I was doing it because it was a transitional time and I was waiting for something 'real to come up. Then she said something beautiful. "Ali. Now God is letting you choose. He is allowing you to see your life that you already have full of passion and love as a choice instead of a default". I have never felt more understood in a single sentence. I had no idea that's what I thought but it totally was. She summed up all of my internal dilemmas with one sentence. The simplicity almost knocked me over.
Saturday night I got home excited by the revelation but terrified by the idea of relaying it to others, Luke included. And I knew that I had to make a decision by Monday morning before I walked into my new office. Surprisingly, everyone I talked to Sunday was behind me. They not only were supportive and encouraging about me quitting my new job but they were also excited. I was completely shocked by their reactions. Luke told me that he felt so much better about this decision than the decision to go back to work. And I felt so relieved.
I drove to my new office Monday morning and walked into the building. I had practiced what I was going to say maybe 500 times. My plan was to walk in, ask to speak to my supervisor, and tell her my rehearsed statement as to why I was quitting in the same moment I was getting started. Of course my supervisor wasn't there so I waited in my new office space. I saw the cabinets that would hold my cases and reports. And the bookshelves that would show off all of the books that taught me so much about counseling and families. And I saw my computer and phone, waiting to be utilized. And still she didn't come. Another therapist walked up to me and excitedly asked if I was the new therapist. I smiled super weirdly and said 'sort of'. She awkwardly laughed and walked back to her office. I would love to hear her thought of how that conversation went.
When my supervisor walked in, I asked if I could talk with her. I suddenly forgot my whole beautifully articulated statement of why I was quitting and rambled something about how I knew it would be better for the company and for me to step out now and not wait until I felt burned out later. She told me how disappointed she was to lose me but thanked me for being honest. I'm still not sure completely what that means.
So here I am, a girl that was a full time therapist this morning at 8:45 and by 9:15 was again jobless. But honestly, you guys, I've never felt freer. Free to write this morning, and meet with girls this afternoon. Free to pick up the kids from school and play with them and read with them. Free to give plasma in the middle of the day (because...money you guys. Oh. And saving lives). And free to do premarital counseling with couples throughout the week.
I talked to someone today that used the analogy 'sink or swim' but I don't know if I believe that to be true. I think we get tricked into thinking that there are two choices but really, there's so many more. What about the people who like to float? I'm saying we should be floaters but I am thinking that sometimes the most obvious choices are the only ones.
Choice is just a funny thing. When you are doing something and feel as though you were placed there, you forget the freedom aspect. But...when you have the opportunity to choose something else and realize that you would rather be doing what you're already doing...oh my goodness. That is a beautiful gift.
