Training

I have the tendency to try to jump the gun on my life, and it's unwise.

I've never done anything too stupid, because fortunately I've almost always realized how foolish it is to get in over my head before I actually do it. But I tend to forget the importance of training; I just imagine myself at the end goal.

Let me try to be a little more specific.

Let's say I got it in my head that I wanted to be a marathon runner. I'd fantasize about being incredibly in shape, running across that glorious finish line, exhilarated, having barely broken a sweat. But I'd hardly consider the fact that first I'd have to get off the couch and run my first treacherous mile to train. In fact, if I did consider it, or even attempt it, I would probably throw the whole dream away.

But that's really no way to live life.

I don't have fantastical dreams about running a marathon (although I would like to get more in shape). For the last few years I have had a dream of becoming a counselor. (Like a psychologist but without having to get a PhD.)

I figured out before I graduated college, fortunately, that I would not be ready for graduate school right away. I would not be able to power through school to get a Master's degree so that I could be a counselor. First I would need training.

I've been training to study, take tests, and write papers all my life. But I've only known a few people with mental illnesses. There's only so much one can understand about abnormal psychology from a book. It has to be seen, observed, conversed with. Few people are "textbook cases," but all of them are real and dynamic, much more than a book lets on. They have unique thoughts, tragic stories, complex relationships.

So I knew that with my dinky but wonderful little bachelor's degree I had to get out into the field and get some experience. I had to train.

After about six months into my first mental health position, I asked myself, Why don't I go back to school? I am only postponing my dream job by waiting.

I had to remind myself not to jump the gun.

Now, I'm moving across the country to continue my training.

I'm going to train physically. I'm going to tread on spiky land instead of flat land.
I'm going to train musically. I've made up my mind to finally learn how to yodel. I don't know why I can't do that here, but it's one of the next goals on my list, so whatever.
I'm going to train linguistically. I intend to take classes in American Sign Language. I think this will be a very valuable skill.
I'm going to train in my writing skills through a project Lexi and I want to try.
I'm going to train spiritually. Wilderness apparently is very good for my soul and I intend to spend more time in it.
Finally, I'm going to train in my career. This is the biggest one. I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, really. I'm going to work with mentally ill people until I am ready to take the big step toward graduate school and ultimately toward being a counselor.

These next two months before I leave feel like training to train, which is a little awful and a lot exciting.

I'm crossing the threshold between the living room and the weight room.


God bless.

In a Way (Untitled Poem)

I wrote this poem about two years ago but I don't think I've ever published it. It was written to be a spoken-word poem that I've performed twice.

In a way,

What she saw in the mirror

Was an upside-down bell curve.

It started before she knew

That body image could exist

And she was blissfully ignorant

Of how beautiful she was

But she knew by fifth grade

That the clothes her mom

Would not let her pick out

That she based on their quality, not style

And whether or not they were cheap

Were weird.

That’s when that ignorance started

To turn

Into the monster of knowledge

At age twelve, she refused

To really smile for school pictures

Because her teeth were crooked

And her peers had braces already.

But her first year of high school

Was the bottom of the bell.

Not only did she stand

In front of her mother’s

Bathroom mirror

And pull out her eyebrows

Strand by unrelenting strand,

She stopped eating.

He was cute and he said “love” to her

He was as thin and tall as a silver sword

And he made her buy the tickets

To the homecoming dance

The week before the dance,

Her mom took her to a real store

To buy a homecoming dress

Which she honestly

Didn’t get what that meant.

What it was supposed to look like

And how it was different

From what you wear to church

But she stood in the changing room

And looked in the mirror

At her stark, unsuspecting body

And saw, for the first time,

Someone who was too fat.

That last week before the dance,

She learned

How much weight you could lose

And how fast it could be done

But it didn’t matter

Because he wouldn’t speak to her

And he didn’t take her to the dance

And he told her in an email

That they were through.

But it did matter.

Because now she had a secret.

Now she had a solution.

She stopped packing lunches

And told her few friends

That she was fine, not to worry.

She didn’t eat dinner sometimes either

Because her parents

Might have actually believed her

When she said she felt ill.

She learned to love and welcome

The lion that visited

Her stomach more often than not

She let him stay

But taught him how not to roar.

And every night,

A journal would bear witness

To how much she had eaten

And what she could do better.

It wasn’t about control.

It probably wasn’t about beauty.

It was about love.

She was walking the tracks

Between a world that told her

“I love you unconditionally”

A world where her parents,

her God,

and some of her friends lived

And a world of worldliness

That said

“Do this and I’ll love you.”

“Do this and you might be good enough.”

Who in their right mind would reject the former

And embrace the latter?

Who in their right mind would trade true love

For a plasticized, vomit-filled mannequin of it?

Perhaps that fourteen-year-old

Had discovered insanity.

But

With the devil’s smothering presence

Came a deep fear

Which led her to pray.

She was trapped in a downward spiral

Toward a prison called Anorexia

And she knew it.

And she knew that only

One God

Could help her escape.

The Lord answered.

And she slowly started coming

back up the bell curve.

She now knows she is beautiful.

Even though she longs

for the childhood ignorance.

But more importantly

She knows that she is loved

She knows that love

Cannot be earned

Will never run out

And who in their right mind
Would choose beauty over love
Anyway?

God bless.