November 19, 2011

Empower Yourself to Pull Your Head Out of Your Ass

I arrived early for training yesterday at my internship. I had a little less than an hour to bullshit- so I called my mom. Amidst our bitching and catching up on the various shenanigans in our life, I exclaimed this post's title in reference to other people, "Empower yourself to pull your head out of your ass." I know, I'm a fabulous therapist. I told my mom she was free to use that statement when talking to coworkers.
I finally went to training which ended at 11am when it usually ends at 12pm. This means I could make the 45 minute drive to the other office for outpatient sessions and still have *gasp* an hour to eat! This was very exciting and I won't lie, I had been looking forward to it all week.

Granted, my lunch was a meager peanut butter sandwich and a package of Swedish Fish but it's better than my typical lunch on Fridays- nothing. When I first started the internship, I grazed on my food throughout the day at my desk. But I had the worst ants-in-the-pants and I figured it was probably because I forced myself to be in that miserable office for 11 straight hours. So now I make a point to eat in the break room and socialize with my coworkers or at least get my mind totally off of paperwork and clients.

So I waltzed in, with my hour sandwich. Immediately followed by my coworker.

     Now, before people get the wrong impression, I understand that
     people need to vent (I mean, come on, that's my job!) and I know
     that people in my field can only vent to people also in the field.
     So bitching during lunch in the break room is inevitable. I GET

But,  Jesus. There's a point where you have got to stop bitching. For example, when people ask you, "How are you?", there IS a correct answer- I don't care what people say, that's the damn truth. The correct answer is "Fine." or another 2-syllabled answer like "Tired", "Busy", or "Good". After 2 syllables, I've got 3 syllables in mind, "I don't care." You have reached your update quota. Why does Twitter only allow 120 characters per post? Because we want an update- not your fucking lifestory. You have a 2 syllables to convey your point and if you cannot do that- expand your vocabulary.

Not this coworker! Nope! She will tell you EVERYTHING (Katt Williams "Everything?") that's going on and every time it's bad. Ok, I'm exaggerating. There are moments when she's not negative... she's not exactly positive either, but, you know, whatever.

And fortunately, she just wanted a soundboard. So while I dazed out thinking about American Horror Story (love that shit) while still saying, "No way!" and "Uh-huh.", I was able to suit her needs to vent without really doing anything. But even when I try to agree and give a short example peripheral to my life- which people do-, I could barely get the words out before she was back on herself.
"I'm on my fucking lunch break!"
Again, I recognize that sometimes people need to do this. But this is the one hour I get once a month when training ends early on Fridays (I frequently don't get to eat lunch on Wednesdays either until 3) that I can relax and appreciate my food. .Fuck. Off.I was definitely 2 seconds from a Bad Santa moment. I listen to people's problems all day- I just want this one hour to eat my sandwich.

And then I was late getting my 1pm client from the waiting room because I was listening to her issues.

I spent the trip home wondering how she didn't realize that I didn't care. Or maybe she did realize it... and didn't care. It made no sense.

I have to stress- I don't mean to be mean when I say this shit. I just use this as an example to encourage people to empower yourself to pull your head out of your ass. Again, not in a mean way, just recognize that there is a world outside of yourself and what you see. Other people's priorities and paths are different. Have faith in yourself to manage and endure through the shit surrounding you (HA! Pun totally not intended) because whether you believe it or not- it can get worse. Pull on those big boy/girl pants (see last post) and keep movin'! You can do it! And I have found when I put my problems at the same level as others' (even if it's to think about the starving Pygmies in New Guinea like Larry the Cable Guy) my problems look like nothing- a cake walk.

     ...a cake walk lined with Swedish Fish. Those things are fucking delicious.

November 14, 2011

Upgrade From Pampers

Total failblog! I know, it's Monday and I should have posted THURSDAY. But maybe this means two posts in one week?! Oh, we never knowwww ... Ok, maybe we will know on Saturday but that's a minor detail.

So last post was pretty lame and I apologize. I was having a moment. This past week I've been dealing with other people's moments. SEGUE INTO THIS WEEK--->

People need to grow up.

Not when you're young or something but eventually. And maybe this is my problem, I'm starting to transition into adulthood and my peers are slacking- like, peers a few years or more older than me are slacking- and I find it absolutely ridiculous.

So, I'll admit this may totally be my bias, but I feel like your early twenties are the last fleeting moments to expend the immature and irresponsible notions, your mid-twenties are awkward transition into adulthood, and your late twenties are to work out the kinks and genuinely own your adult self. You may go through changes and revamps down the road but this is it- you're an adult and all those scary responsibilities are not going to be on hold while you work shit out. This is the model I've had. I have no idea where it comes from but since most seem to follow this pattern, I've ran with it I guess.

But not everyone has. My 25 and 26 (and all the way up to 30!) year-old friends/friends-of-friends have missed the memo that IT IS TIME FOR YOUR BIG-BOY/GIRL PANTS

This past year I have dealt with the following:

     A man (ironically using that word loosely) on the verge of tears because a girl is mad at him.
     A woman (again, ironic overuse of the word) ACTUALLY crying because someone is "being mean" to
     Even further, neither of these people chose to go to the person that they saw as mad at them and
     address the situation.
     Even further, both people expected changes to occur despite not informing the other person that they
     were upset...
     This then went around the rumor mill and other people unrelated got mad.

Did I forget to mention that in both cases I'm thinking of different people? Did I forget to mention that I'm 24 and the youngest of all these people? Yeah, factor that in and there's my beef. Because even if I'm not part of the unrelated people whom got irritated, I still feel the repercussions of the (for lack of a better word) drama. For we cannot hang out with so-and-so and so-and-so because they're fighting over bullshit that happened (and sometimes didn't even really happen) months ago. And that's just the majority of drama cases- there have been several other instances where I look at the person and think, "Seriously, how old are you?"

Life is funny- I was talking to a coworker this week about how clients will say something in passing or within the content of their issues and it resounds so much with what's going on with your life. For example, this week, my 16 year-old client was upset about typical drama that comes with being in high school (HS). In my mind, I had to laugh (cannot cry!) because I thought drama was a HS-related phenomenon. Then I got into college and still had drama, but less, so I thought, "Oh, this must be a youth-related issue." Oh false. I'm still dealing with it and it's surprisingly the same shit. I felt exactly like this girl, dreaming about the wonders of drama-free college. I had to break it to the client- this shit isn't going anywhere so let's help you deal.

Two days after that client, I had one of my 20 year-old clients discussing issues with people in her life and she kept repeating the words "Grow. Up." Again, another moment in my head where I had to laugh because I couldn't cry-
     My 20 year-old client knows you need to grow up and my 25+ year-old classmates (i.e. future counselors) do not seem to acknowledge this fact.

 Let that marinate.

Preach! Rejoice in the power of grown-up pants!
So I implore you, people, before you walk outside your house check to make sure you're wearing your grown-up pants! Is griping about that stereotypical coworker worth it? Can you talk directly to the person? If you feel like the same problems keep "happening to you" check yourself- YOU are the common denominator here and whether you're the problem or not, it's time to take action! You need to resolve the issue, prevent it from happening again, or learn to deal! If you're about to walk out of your house and constantly bitch, and throw temper tantrums like you always have, take off the pampers. The time is now to empower yourself with the responsibility of big boy/ big girl pants. It's ok if you're scared, but eventually they will be second-nature and you'll be the cool new kid- uh, ADULT- on the block with your fancy-ass grown-up pants. Ohhh. Ahhh.

But seriously though, if you catch yourself walking out of the house in diapers, get some help, you West Virginian! (as my dad would, lovingly, call you)

November 3, 2011

Bridget Jones' Blog

When I've had a bad day, I watch one (or both on REALLY bad days) of the following two movies: 

     Bridget Jones' Diary
     Rob Zombie's Halloween

Ok, you know what, don't judge me. They are both good films... in their own way.

Bridget Jones makes me feel better about myself (I thought I had problems) and Halloween is my vicarious revenge (Now YOU have a problem, Bwahaha!).
In the past two years or so, I've been avoiding watching Bridget Jones even when I have a real JONES to. I know, I'm fucking hilarious! It all stems from my old roommate totally shaming me about my Bridget Jones behavior.

     A couple years ago, when my roommate and I originally moved into our apartment together, my ex cheated on me. Dick. 
     Instead of handling it like any normal person,  and sending him a dead rat covered in the Ebola virus I watched Bridget Jones' Diary
     about 6 different times, most of which was out in the living room. On my sixth viewing, my roommate walked through
     commenting, "Bridget Jones- again?" Yea, shutup about it. I was not able to even enjoy the movie I had memorized in record
     time, I was fuming. The movie ended and I went in my room to huff and feel sorry for myself when logic came out of his
     hiding place (because let's face it, you don't have logic when you're sucked into the sappy world of a chick flick) and
     said, "Well Lauren, maybe it's time to move on and not BECOME Bridget Jones- except not witty and British."
     Fast forward a solid 8-12 months. I had moved on, had a new boyfriend, life was good- but I didn't watch Bridget Jones-
     even though I thought I had earned it. While doing homework one day in the living room, I noticed a very familiar DVD
     box from across the room- IT WAS BRIDGET JONES! I checked my collection- it was a different copy. And here I was,
     avoiding it. I was pissed. I called practically everyone in my phone and upon answering I would scream-whisper (our walls
     were paper-thin), "SHE BOUGHT BRIDGET JONES!" Yeah, nobody was nearly as upset as I was. Nor did anybody know about the initial
      incident which just made for many awkward conversations.
So now I'm in a different state than this person and I still avoid watching it. I force myself to watch Halloween for the 320984029th time because I've yet to be ashamed about that. But last night, it happened. Bridget Jones went into my DVD player and played. Well, after some coercion of my DVD player which is the epitome of a piece of shit.

The magic is gone. Bridget Jones wasn't the same. I saw the uncanny parallel between a line I've heard over a dozen times and my life the past few months- "I've decided to take control of my life and start a diary to tell the truth about Bridget Jones- the whole truth." Every time someone in the movie implied to her biological clock, I cringed all the more. For now I not only have all my peers, teachers, coworkers, friends, and family talking about "when I have kids" but now CLIENTS. And I don't have the luxury to tell them like I've told several others "I find tapeworms more appealing than children." I have to smile and nod... and die a little on the inside... Maybe I'll send Michael Myers after them. But judging how he treated his psychiatrist, I probably have a slim chance of that working out.

So, I've lost my pathetic character to push myself above. I feel as though I have sunken to the same, sad level. And in my abysmal, self-pity state, I want to watch Bridget Jo- dammit.

I guess now I have to reach to an even lower character to push myself above on those rough days. BUT, on the plus side, I expect to be dating a successful, foxy (although I find nothing foxy about Colin Firth), rich man with an accent (crossing my fingers on an Australian accent) very soon! Mark your calenders for that blog post, people! Yeah, and hold your breath too

Ironically, I'm lying down, on my stomach, on my bed, writing this post-