I was looking at a collection of poems that I gave my mother for Mother's Day when I was 10 years old. It was an emotional and transformational year for me, and I remember a lot of it with more clarity and vividness than I do the rest of my entire life. I met my best friend, a dear soul sister who is in my life to this day. I also moved from my mom's house into my dad's apartment, and began to feel some comfort and safety that I hadn't felt before.
In the "About The Author" section of the poem collection, I had stated that I wanted to be a writer or teacher when I grew up. I didn't take a second look at this until my partner pointed it out. He called it to my attention and it took me back.
Since I have been 13 years old or so, I have wanted to be a therapist. My intention was to complete a PhD in Clinical Psychology. However, during my undergraduate degree in Psychology, facing a ticking clock and growing student loans, I realized that a Master's Degree in Social Work would allow me to register as a professional social worker, and give therapy as I had always dreamed of.
I did give therapy. And I think I will again. Yet I keep feeling this sense of failure or inadequacy that I am not giving therapy now. That I am not doing the goal that I spent all that money and time and work to work towards.
Recently I was hired by several different websites and individuals to write. I started this blog to share my story, but also to create examples of writing as I was beginning to apply for these positions. I heard nothing back for weeks. I felt as though I had again wasted my efforts, writing this blog when my goal was to get paid work out of it.
But I stopped myself from sinking into those feelings. And I wrote another post. Not to get me hired, not to prove anything - I wrote to share my experience. It feels good to share and I always hope I can help others through my experiences. My highest truth always feels like it is in some way to reach people's hearts, to help them with their pain and struggle. I came back to this truth and let it guide where I want to be putting my energy.
The morning after I wrote the second blog post, I heard from the initial website. They liked my writing, and they wanted to hire me. In my perspective, it was coming back to my highest truth and pouring my energy towards sharing for my own healing and for others that seemed to give me an affirmation from the Universe. This website has only a handful of contributors on their contributors page, and there I am "Molly Rae" beside a writer that has a book on my bookshelf, Deepak Chopra. I felt like wow, sometimes your life takes a different turn and that's okay. I am writing a lot about mental health and yoga. I have been intending to manifesting a way I can merge my therapist identity and yoga teacher identity, still feeling like I am not ready to take ongoing clients for therapy and still feeling guilty about it.
Then this happened. And until I saw that book of poems, I had thought this was a surprise twist. When really, it seems that writing and teaching was what I wanted to do even before I wanted to be a therapist. So maybe being a therapist was the surprise twist. Or maybe (definitely) its all part of the divine plan.
The truth is, I love writing. I don't feel nervous or anxious about my ability to write to the same degree I do my ability to consistently hold space to give therapy. I honour that I am in a phase in my own healing journey where this may not be possible, at least not in the context I had imagined for so long. I feel I can communicate, teach, and demonstrate important ideas through the written word that I just do not as easily through verbal communication. I can find the language I want to use, I can revise. Yet when I am writing without putting pressure on myself to meet a deadline or please an audience, like this blog post for example, I find myself in a steady stream of consciousness, barely editing or searching for different language to use if at all.
I love writing. Thank you for taking the time to read my writing, and for being a part of my path.