I've been subconsciously, but purposefully, avoiding this blog. That's kind of sad. Sometimes, you go through seasons of life where you don't want to think about your life, much less write about it and look at the words on a screen, much much less know that other people are reading it. Sometimes, it's just a little too much to make life concrete - to type it into existence. Sometimes life's just hard. It's hard. For me, right now, it's hard.
Thinking about a lot of beginnings and a lot of endings. A lot of changes. A lot of evaluating. A lot of questions like, "What kind of person do I want to be? What kind of life do I want to lead? Do I want to be a risk-taker? What kind of regrets do I want to have?" A lot of growing-up - in the not-fun, really uncomfortable, here's-a-hard-look-at-life's-realities kind of way. A lot of putting on big-girl pants when I just really want to stay in diapers.
Part of it is having started my internship. I'm over a month in, saw clients on my first day and have been seeing four clients regularly for this whole time. That's crazy. But I don't know how to talk about it here because of so much confidentiality, so I've avoided it. It's a huge part of my life now, and I don't know how to share my life without sharing parts of my internship. Blop. It's heavy. I am learning so much. I feel like an aged woman and a five-year-old all at the same time. This work is so full.
I've started my third year. The beginning of the end of my graduate education. I can't begin to explain how loaded that is - I'm not ready to leave this place yet. A year doesn't feel like enough time, and yet I'm so tired and ready to be something other than a student. This year holds so, so much for me. I feel so invested in my classes - both because I feel like I'm choosing them and excited about them and also because I know they will be my last ones. This is my last Fall term at The Seattle School of Theology and Psychology (Yes, it's official. No, no one is getting it right yet in conversation - we all still say "Mars Hill Graduate School." That's ok.) This morning was my last beginning-of-the-year breakfast. I have been so emotional this week because I keep thinking in "lasts"! "My last this, my last that." I love this place so much.
Yet there is so much, as I said, that is beginning. I am a part of Student Council this year - involved with serving the student body as a whole and what we, as students, want and need from our institution. T is a member of a different realm of student leadership at my school - group called "Mosaic" that serves the spouses, partners, and families of students at The Seattle School. We're leading/serving separately and together! It's a beautiful thing. I don't have a paying job. That's weird and scary. Although I'm sometimes selling pizzas at markets with T and I's friend who has his own wood-fired, brick oven pizza business. I'm doing an independent study with my favorite professor and one of my dearest friends about food and hospitality and the sacredness of their interplay that already has me buzzing despite the fact that it doesn't start until the spring. The three of us are going to eat a lot of good food together. T and I have also developed relationships with several of our neighbors which is thrilling for us. Both couples are older than us and not connected with our work or school lives whatsoever. They are refreshing, beautiful, budding relationships.
There is so much goodness in the midst of much difficulty. Isn't that how it goes? That's what I'm experiencing in these recent weeks. That's where the diapers come off and the big-girl pants go on. I don't like them - my metaphorical pants. They're tight, uncomfortable, constricting, and too responsible-looking. I liked the freedom of the diaper - to have a metaphorical accident and to have someone else clean it up for me. Or at least help me clean it up. Big-girl pants means it's time to do it on my own. To clean it up myself, or to never make a mess in the first place. Yuck. I don't like it.
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