I went to orientation Thursday. Spoke briefly to the head of the Creative Arts Therapy Program. She was fascinated by my volunteer job although I think the people at the table were kind of surprised I was doing "clinical work" before actually taking the course. Cart before the horse? I don't know, but it seems to work.
The department head asked what courses I plan to take. I mentioned Illicit Substance Use in Our Society and Therapeutic Approaches to Victims of Abuse. She was excited at my second choice. I have a funny feeling she's putting together my pieces, so to speak. While she talked to the group, she kept making deliberate direct eye contact with me. It sent an assuring message but did creep me out a little.
My partner is very concerned about my taking the Abuse course. When the speaker from the Student Services Department spoke, she mentioned our particular group of students, those returning after having been out in the world, will probably teach as much as we learn. I spoke with my friend Laurie, also a survivor, about this. Her feeling is that it is meant for me to be part of that class. Just the same, before I meet with my adviser, I will talk to my T at length. Truth be told, this is where I want to go with it, but my progress in my recovery is still in early stages. Anyone here have thoughts about that?
Of coarse I am fighting a lot of "do not deserve" messages and self-hatred over this. To combat that and get through I am creating a sacred space where I will indulge those feelings, let them out and then get on with the day. Dealing with recovery, going to school, and searching for a full time job (Yeah, that is still an important element in this equation)is a tall order. I still think I'm nuts for thinking I could do it, but what else can I do?
Also, when the bad days try to gobble me up and eat me alive, I'll be here, but more likely in the "At Risk" forum. As all of you who know me, when things go well that's when I psychologically and emotionally unravel.
So, there's the latest and the not-so-greatest of my bizarre little journey.