holding on

Recently I was catching up on my dearest Beatrice's blog where I always find something of interest, whether it be how to spell manolo blahniks or how to deal with raising two small children. Needless to say I frequently learn something I never thought I would when I enter into her unique world. I digress. My writing has once again strayed from the original point of this paragraph, which occurs quite often in my composition, causing nettlesome rewrites and ginormous revision. I suppose this is why I should follow the classic administrative assistant’s rule of striking all but the first sentence of each paragraph in any communication, so as to promote pithiness and clarity.

Back to Bee. My compatriot has a way with words which I suppose is why she has a way with people. Eloquently, she entreated me to conjure up my innermost predications concerning therapy, which is of particular interest to me as I am pursuing professional counseling as an occupation. As I read her words I had no choice but to agree with her that we all, out of practicality or desperation, should or will accomplish our own personal therapy in one way or another when conventional methods are unattainable. There is much to explore in that statement, but that is not my focus here.

As many (or most) therapists will admit, doing counseling is in its own way therapeutic. We counselors help others in a way that matches our nature. Our souls are cured as we attempt to pour into another, swelling at times with satisfaction from our loving hands. This helping profession, our own zen garden, is powerfully transforming, moving lost people toward healing and setting them on a path to psychological and spiritual health. So how do I know that I am not simply wasting thousands of dollars pursuing a career which will only comfort my troubled heart?

Like Bee says, when one cannot obtain professional therapy (whether from finances or other more terrifying reasons), he or she should strive to stave off insanity with simple diversions which are soothing in their own way. For some it is television. For others it is alcohol. For me, it is possible that education is my therapy. My solid reminder that I am not insane and that somehow my mind is still producing worth as confirmed by scholarly professors. I have spent nearly all of my life enrolled in an educational institution and I cannot imagine the day when this circumstance will cease to be. Unfortunately such bliss will come to an end and then where will I be?

I am delighted by Bee’s suggestion to grab whatever there is to hold on to in times of peril. This is a basic survival concept which many professionals fail to acknowledge in favor of some convoluted practice which will substantiate their research foci. Much of my life has been spent reaching for that shoot dangling above the quicksand. Eventually I had to take a greater risk and stretch for something bigger which ultimately plucked me from my demise. Keeping my head above water was no healing herb, but it did allow me to survive until the day of my rescue. Holding on is not easy, but if we expect to conquer doom it is the only feasible solution, as temporary as it may be.

Thanks again to Beatrice for causing me to think.