Most of my life I spend listening. As a therapist, my role is hearing and accepting the burdens others carry into my office. I like my job. I choose this hard because I love it. It's very fulfilling and feels purposeful, even when I can't see progress being made in a moment. I believe whole-heartedly in the power of being with. Unfortunately my job also brings particular liabilities.
I have to pay close attention to the balance between pain and joy in my life. Big pain requires lots of rest and extra joy. If I lose track or stop tending my heart, I crumble and the world gets dark.
Coming home I first need a lot of quiet. Quiet helps me remember peace. I need rest. I need my people to recognize the weight I walk through and to see my humanity, meaning I am equally vulnerable and needy. While my office requires I pour out, I need my community to pour in. Sometimes that is just handing me a beer or offering a comfortable bed and a broad shoulder. Sometimes it's making me laugh and sitting with me.
I rarely need or want words of advice. Not that I don't need accountability. But I find compassion much more compelling than judgement. Compassion makes me want to do better. Judgement makes me want to walk away.
There are times when telling my story feels good. Writing and re-writing my narrative can be healing. It gives me a sense of participation rather than victimhood. But until I have had the quiet I need, story telling is particularly laborious. It feels like tredging through mud while trying not to getting hit in the face. Right now I'm tired of talking. Right now I just need quiet.
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