I can’t help but think about one of my favorite childhood memories. It is the very reason that New Year’s Eve is my favorite holiday. Have I already blogged about this? I don’t remember. Oh well, I’m doing this anyway!
When I was 9, we lived in Ohio. It was December 31, 1979. I have no idea where the rest of my family was on that night, as I don’t remember anyone else being there. (To be fair, as the youngest of 8, I often was left to my own devices.) The Christmas tree was still up and the twinkle lights made the night feel magical. The living room was quiet except for Dick Clark on the television. I watched with excitement and wonder as the ball dropped and the crowd counted down to midnight. Then they announced it was now 1980! It felt monumental to enter into a whole new decade!!! The soft glow of the twinkle lights, the joy from the people in Times Square, the sense of awe that time was marked this way all combined to make a moment of pure joy.
To this day, I love that moment. I love the sense of a new year and a clean slate. I love the celebration and community feel of being together as the old year ends and the new one begins. I have spent NYE in so many ways. Even the most joyful have not lived up to that night when I was 9. And that’s okay. I still hold the magic of that night in my heart.
This was taken about the same time as my memory. Please enjoy all of the 70s goodness. And make special note of the beer stein and pretzel wallpaper. My mom loved it.
Not gonna lie. It sucks. Not that dating at any age is easy. It has never been for me. And as a twice-divorced person, it has not gotten any easier. In case you happen to be one of those happily married people who have no idea what I’m talking about, allow me to share some of my experiences.
First, the apps. They are terrible. There is Tinder, Bumble, Match, Her, Lux, and many others. As a queer woman, I avoid the ones targeted for men/gay men. I have been on them all. There is also Facebook Dating. I’ve met quite a few people. I’ve gone on dates and even met someone I thought was a good match. Yeah, no. So I continue to try. Because I like being in a relationship. In spite of all the misses, I really do.
So once you match with someone, you start chatting. Some people are direct about what they want. It is generally sex and they don’t hesitate to say so. I actually appreciate that kind of honesty. Then there are the game plalyers who claim not to want sex. Then you meet them and they just wanted sex. Don’t get me wrong. Sex is great. But don’t play games. Seriously. It’s gross and irritating and so fucking immature.
Starting over with each person is just exhausting. Let me tell you my history. Let’s hear yours. What are you looking for? Do we have things in common? Do you live near me? Do you have time to date? Will you actually communicate more than a weekly, “miss u” ?? Yeah… currently dealing with that.
And can I talk about the cruel irony of how mis-aligned sex drive is at my age? I am post-menopause. I currently have a very high drive. (If that is tmi, sorry. just being honest!) Sadly. many men my age can’t seem to do much withiout that little blue pill. And even that is no guarantee. Ugh.
I don’t know what the answer is. I am bisexual and have gone on a few dates with women. I am open to whatever human can be the following three things:
Emotionally available
Curious
Reciprocal
Am I asking for too much? It certainly feels like I am.
This morning, Daisy and I met a friend for breakfast before heading to volunteer at the airport. We went to Eat N Park, a Pittsburgh staple.
The server, Jes, was quite taken by Daisy. She and another employee brought cheese to treat her.
As we enjoyed our breakfast, a woman a few tables away started to talk to Daisy. She commented on how beautiful she is.
She asked is if I take her to hospitals or nursing homes. I explained that we go to the airport to look for stressed out passengers.
She was a bit chatty and quite friendly. I apologized to my friend for the interruption. He laughed and said I was like his dad and talked to everyone.
It’s true. I really can talk to anyone. I get it from both of my parents. They made friends everywhere they went.
The server brought our check and we continued to chat. When it was time to go, I got my card out. Jes then said, “She took care of it already.”
“What? Who?!”
“The woman you were talking to. She said thank you for your service.”
I was floored. No one has ever done that for me! My friend joked that we should meet every Sunday for breakfast as it was free!
What a sweet surprise and lovely way to start our morning.
Ma’am, wherever you are, thank you. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.
As a clinical therapist, I am tasked with helping clients cope with all sorts of challenges, trauma and mental health disorders. It is what I was trained to do and I really do love my job. That being said, since the election of Trump. my job has been exponentially harder.
The current administration’s plans and actions have harmed so many people. Each day there is horrible and terrifying news that impacts myself and my clients detrimentally. If you have a therapist or friends who are therapists, please check on them. We are not okay.
It actually started with Covid. For the first time, therapists were struggling to cope with the same trauma as their clients while having to appear not to be struggling. The demand for therapy grew rapidly with the spread of Covid. I found myself focusing mosty on basic needs. Have you had water? Are you sleeping? Did you eat any protein today? We were all in survival mode. We were essential workers and had no time off. I actually worked a lot more!
I don’t know that we have recovered from that yet. And now we are again trying to survive. My transgender clients are fighting for their lives and for access to life-saving medical interventions. Some of my clients lost their jobs due to all of the funding cuts. None can afford groceries or rent. Right now, for many people, life is really hard. There are days I feel like all I do is try to convince people to stay alive.
Is this our new normal? Is this how life is going to be from now on? As I talk to other therapists about our work, I hear the same thing: we are exhausted. This is not burn out. This is bone-weary, I got nothing left, exhastion.
So how do we keep going? What is it that allows me to continue to show up, in spite of it all? I don’t have a magic wand, nor the answer to solve this. There are a few things I do that help me:
I have my own therapists. I have two. One is primarily a talk-therapist. We explore how I show up in life and what gets in the way when I struggle. I also have an EMDR therapist. Our work is around my past trauma and the negative beliefs that formed within me as a result. I have worked really hard with both to try and be in a healthier place. I think it is working.
I constantly look for moments of joy. I buy myself flowers. I watch silly videos to laugh. I send memes to my friends. I get my nails done. I put my Chirstmas trees up early! I cannot possibly carry all of the heavy stuff without also having some joy.
I reach out to my friends. I text, email, visit and message people. I make plans and get coffee. I know that I will isolate and try to power through when things are hard. I cannot let myself do that any more.
I do things outside of my job that give me meaning and purpose. That includes volunteering at the airport with Daisy. We walk around and look for people who are stressed about flying and need to pet a dog. It’s an incredible experience.
If you read this and found yourself confused, because your world isn’t on fire, then congratulations. You have privilege. Maybe take a moment to notice what other people are going through, and then consider what you might be able to do to lighten their load.
Back while I was still in grad school, my classmates would discuss where they saw themselves using their counseling degree. I remember always proclaiming that I had NO desire to go into private practice. I wanted to have a boss and other people who carried the heavy burdens of running a business. Why did I feel so strongly about it? Because my dad had his own business and always seem to struggle. Between working all the time and having to pay employees and taxes, it just made me believe I never could handle it. And it made me terrified of trying.
After 6 years of community mental health, I started to consider it. I was working with another therapist to get certified in EMDR therapy. She had been running her own practice for years. She was a great mentor. Every concern I had was met with calm reassurance and sound advice. I also spoke to my older brother, Jim, about my worries. He had worked for and with my dad and understood my fears. He explicitly told me not to let my dad’s experiences make me afraid of trying. I am so grateful for that.
Finally during 2024, I connected with a former classsmate, Catherine, who had her own practice in Pittsburgh. She was looking to hire independent contractors to fill her practice. It seemed like a great opportunity to dip my toes into the private practice world, so I signed on. As the end of 2024 approached, I knew it was time to make the move into full time private practice. It was both terrifiying and exciting.
When it came time to establish my business, I wanted to use a name that really meant something special. My constant companion and certified therapy dog, Daisy, was a great inspiration. That is how I came up with this:
Now that I have been full time in my own practice for almost a year, I have been reflecting on how much my life has changed. Some of the changes were immediate and obvious: I had to find my own health and life insurances. I had to hire an accountant to deal with my business taxes. I had to find my own office space. I had to find my own clients and build my own schedule.
I have been very surprised by how much I love being on my own. I do miss having people to talk to throughout the day. However, I do not miss having a boss. I am no longer interested in being told what to do…especially by a man! My office is one of my favorite places to be. It is filled with many of my “stuff and things.” I have been told by many people that it is cozy and comfortable.
I am so lucky to have found Catherine. She does all of my billing and credentialing. She manages new client paperwork and often sends me referrals. She also supports all of her contractors with supervision and resources.
I also lucked out on my office space in Swissvale. Yes, it is tiny. It is also quite affordable, on a bus line, and has both free parking and grass for Daisy! I have not had a single issue filling my caseload. I guess the fact that the world is currently on fire has helped a lot with that! I get so many referrals from current and former clients, which I take as a huge compliment.
While I dearly miss having PTO, I do not miss the pressure to “produce.” I don’t miss the constant messaging of not doing enough or questions about how I use my time. I also do not miss the complete lack of care or concern for how the state of the world is effecting therapists in general. I am free to take care of myself in whatever way suits me best. I got to take a trip to Ireland and no one had to approve my time away. I get to work long days when I want and short days too. I don’t have to ask any one for permission or forgiveness!
Looking ahead, I have begun to think about what might be next for me. I have continued ot seek out training to improve my counseling skills. I have been invited to present on my knoweldge to conferences and at rounds for other therapists. I have begun to toy with the idea of teaching. I also have been bitten with the writing bug again.
After my mom died, my joy for this blog fizzled. Without my greatest fan, it felt empty. I have rediscovered my love of writing for writing’s sake. Maybe I will even write a book one day, just as my mom used to encourage me to do. Anything is possible now!
For my birthday this year, I took a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Ireland. I had the very best travel companion, my cousin Keri. Fun fact, she is both my first and second cousin. (Her mom and my mom were sisters; her dad and my dad were cousins.) She had been to Ireland before, so I asked her to come along on my adventure, and she graciously accepted!
We had an amazing trip, exploring Galway, where our ancestors came from, and Dublin. The people and sights were incredible. Every little shop had souvenirs and jewelry with clovers and the claddaugh. I have always loved the claddaugh. If you don’t know what that is, it’s this:
The lore of the claddaugh states that you cannot buy one for yourself. It must be a gift. I have received a few claddaugh over the years. One was from my first husband. I gave that one to our daughter. One was my wedding ring from my second marriage. I have yet to figure out what to do with that one. I have always wanted one with my birthstone.
While in a jewlery shop looking for gifts for our families, I leaned over to Keri and said, “If I give you money, will you buy me a claddaugh?” We both laughed and then she said, “No! I will get you one. I wanted to get you a birthday gift!” I was so surprised. She had already made the trip all about me. I excitedly tried on rings with my birthstone: sapphire. Initially, there was not one that fit me. The sales girl kindly offered to check their back stock. After a few minutes, SUCCESS!! Here is the ring on my hand that very day:
While we were in Ireland, I was dating someone. It was a pretty wild situation. We met and both quickly fell in love. So when I got the ring, I put it on with the heart facing in.
Sadly, that relationship ended abruptly a few weeks after the trip. It was heart breaking at the moment that left me reeling. My best friends, Donna and Arne, wanting to support me in my sadness, came in to town just to take me to dinner and be there for me. He had ended things on Wednesday. The dinner was Saturday. We were sitting at the restaurant, eating and talking, when Arne took my hand. He gently pulled the claddaugh off of my finger, turned it around and put it back on. A small detail and loving gesture. I had mindlessly continued to put it on as if I was taken.
It takes someone who really knows and sees me to make such a powerful gesture. He wasn’t just correcting the direction of the ring. He was saying, “I see you.” For a very long time, the only person who saw me was my mom. She saw me for me and loved me exactly as I am. I have missed that dearly.
Do you see the people you love? I mean, truly see them? Do you note small details and validate what they need? Do you allow them to be completely themselves? Are you a soft place for them to land when they need to fall apart?
I still love my claddaugh and Keri for buying it. It is one of my most cherished reminders of that trip. The second is my tattoo. That’s for another post. I am so blessed to have people who see me. I hope you do too.
As a twice divorced woman, I have a lot of thoughts and opinions about dating. My first marriage lasted 14 years and gave me three amazing kids. My second marriage lasted 12 years and gave me my career.
Since my second divorce, I have dated a couple people. Initially, I fell into the same patterns that I had followed in my marriages. I avoided conflict. I made myself smaller and smaller and became a caretaker with no awareness of my own needs.
After some significant EMDR therapy, I have finally begun to identify and deconstruct the negative beliefs that had driven those patterns.
The first was, “I don’t matter.” Why would I create and hold boundaries when I didn’t value myself? That had to change!
The second was, “I’m alone.” This one kept me from asking for help or reaching out when struggling. Honestly, this one is still a struggle.
Another is, “If I take care of you, you will love me.” This is so deeply ingrained in me. I am still a work in progress with this one too.
“I am too much.” Yeah, that one was a very loud belief I held for a very long time. I am thrilled to report I don’t believe that at all any more. I won’t make myself small for anyone. I like how loud, emotional, colorful and outspoken I am!
I share this to say that people can change. I am working very hard, thanks to two amazing therapists, to do so. I am undoing the damage of my trauma to emerge into my authentic self.
I honestly forgot that I have a blog. My mom was the one to prompt me to write, so without her, I forget. I have been so busy and overwhelmed with life. This was always the way for me to make sense of things, and I forgot.
Almost three months ago, my ex-husband killed himself. He had always struggled with depression. His entire life, it was a battle for him. He carried around so much pain and it came out in rage. He had been trying to get healthy. He was in therapy. He had been through intensive treatment and seemed to be doing okay.
On August 6, 2024, I was flying home from Minnesota, having driven with August and Luis from DC to St. Paul. They were relocating for Luis’ grad school. It had been a wonderful trip and I loved having so much time with them. After a quick stop at the Mall of America for me to buy souveniers, they dropped me at the airport. I got my bag checked and was having lunch. I had been texting Mikey about the trip. He was asking questions and responding as always. My last text from him was at 1:09pm. I got on the plane and put my phone in airplane mode. The trip was uneventful and easy.
When we landed, I put my phone back into working order. I texted Mikey that I had landed. I made my way to baggage claim. On my way, I got a SnapChat message from Susie. She’s married to one of his coworkers. It said, “Bill and I are here for you, if you need anything.” I thought, that’s nice. But weird? I asked her what she was talking about. My heart began to race. I had the heaviest feeling of dread. She was apologizing and saying she needed to get to a quiet place to talk. I got to baggage claim and called her.
She told me he had died at work. I could tell she did not want to be the person delivering this news. I can’t blame her. She put Bill on the phone. I asked him if he shot himself. He said yes. I could not make sense of it. I was crying. I felt like my body was on fire and my brain wanted to explode. How could this be real??? A nearby woman came over and asked if I was okay. I said, “My ex-husband died.” Then I dragged my luggage and went outside. I wanted to be kinder, but I couldn’t think. It was raining. So much of that day is a blur now. If only I had blogged then, I might remember it better.
Over the next few days, I learned some things. I talked on the phone to so many people. A kind police detective gave me more details. He told me about the notes Mike had left. The head of Allegheny Emergency Services called to offer his condolences. One of the two coworkers who had found his body called me. He told me about having lunch with Mike on that day. That Mike had said he left something in the car. He never showed up for his shift, so they went looking for him. They tried giving him CPR. I couldn’t imagine it.
I had to break the news to his aunt and cousin. I think they were still grieving his mom and this blow was just too much. I had to tell his childhood best friend, who informed me that he had taken a gun from Mike years ago. I even had to let his therapist know. He was incredulous. Mike had been doing so well. Each time I shared the awful news, I ached for them and for him. Many of his co-workers reached out on Facebook. So many questions. I just let the world spin around me. We had a celebration of his life at his favorite place, Carnivores in Oakmont. So many people came. They told stories and laughed. There were tears and toasts. It felt so wrong to me. None of it made sense at all. He was so loved. He never believed it.
So many people loved him
Three months later, I am still mired in the financial mess he left. I waver between sadness, anger, frutration and disbelief. The house that once was my happy place is a mess. So many things had begun to break or fall apart and he had never done anything to repair it. The dogs, Winnie and Tiny, still live there. I have not been able to find anyone to take them. The neighbor, Josh, cares for them every day. They miss Mike so much.
Tiny and Winnie
I don’t want the house. It is full of too many hard memories. I also don’t want his car. Servicemaster informed me that it is finally clean and ready for repair. I can’t imagine anyone would want a car that had been the scene of a suicide. I think I am going to just call Chrystler and have them take it back.
There are bills and taxes he mis-filed and a house in foreclosure and a car that is not paid off. I know that he was probably so lonely, so overwhelmed with life. He missed his family. His parents and brother were gone. Winnie, his absolute joy, is blind and mostly deaf. Watching her age must have made things so much worse.
May he rest in peace with his family.
After all of this is over and his debts are paid, I am taking a trip to Ireland. Mike always wanted to go there, much more than I ever did. I will go there, and remember him and lay to rest all of the grief I feel. I have to believe that the McQuillans are together in heaven, having a Summer Shandy, and laughing.
It has been a while since I blogged. I think losing you left me without further interest in sharing my thoughts. Yesterday was a big day and I was sharing with some friends how much I wanted to call and tell you about it. Adrian suggested I blog, as you would have loved that. So here I go.
After 21 months of back and forth, uploading new documents, finding new supervisors, paying fees over and over, I finally have my LPC. I am a licensed professional counselor. I did it. I know how many times we talked about my frustrations with the process and how many times you encouraged me to keep going. I went to grad school for me, absolutely, but I think I also went for you. I wanted to show you how much I could do. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to do something completely out of my reach and land it!
The long process after graduation to licensure has been so hard. Who knew that getting a 4.0 in a masters program in my late 40s/early 50s was going to be the easy part?!?! So many clinical hours with clients and in supervision. The required 3000 turned into so many more. Who knows why the state of Pennsylvania repeatedly chose to deny my application (I have my theories!)? Your grace and humble attitude kept me calm and persistent.
After you died, I lost steam. I became resigned to being in licensure limbo. I made so many jokes about how I would never get a license. I will be the oldest unlicensed therapist of all time. I hated how hopeless I had become, but I think it was just to get through the pain and disappointment. I truly worked so hard. I have put in so many weeks with more than 40 hours. My productivity has been ridiculously above target. I have invested fully in my work and in my clients. And yet time and again I was told I (again) fell short.
When I checked the PALS portal on Valentine’s Day, my application no longer said “needs attention.” It said, “Pending approval.” Oh my hearts and stars, was it actually going to happen??? Every day, often many times a day, I logged in to see if my status had changed. Each time, I glanced at the dashboard only to see no change.
Yesterday, Hayley stopped by my office to say she had checked hers three times already. Oh! Yes! I hadn’t checked yet. I logged in and looked. My application said, “Complete.” What? Wait! WHAT???? I scrolled back up to the list of licenses… and there it was. I HAVE A LICENSE!!! Some person at the Department of Licensing finally granted me the LPC I have worked unceasingly for!!!!
I screamed! No, really! I SCREAMED! And then people came running and I got shushed and told I scared them. And then they all began to celebrate with me. They knew what I have been through. They have been there every damn step of the way.
Mom, I did it. We did it. I never would have been brave enough to go back to school at 45 without you. I never would have believed in myself without you cheering me along. I never would have valued my efforts so much without your words of praise. I can still hear you. “I am so impressed by what you do. I could never do that.” Oh mom. You impressed me every moment of every day.
I hope you are at peace in heaven with Dad. Please tell him that his little one got her license. My heart still aches without you, but I also have joy knowing that you have been reunited with your love.
