graduation and anxiety {also: questions matter}

My lovely and weird friends, I am sorry for my blogging silence.

I find myself wrestling with a lot lately, and then I always think too often on whether or not to push that taunting ‘publish’ button, or if that specific topic need not be shared with the world wide webs.

The biggest thing, the item that carries the most weight on The List of Things I Think About A Lot is that I graduate with my Masters degree in a few months.* The topic of graduation seems to always be a natural flow into discussing my plans for life in the Great Beyond (what I like to call The Real World). What will I be doing? Where will I be living? Will I stay in Seattle? Will I move back to Texas? Where else would I go? Will I try to find agency work? Will I attempt to open a private practice? What population of people do I want to work with/serve?

fucking. anxiety. attack. 

I seem to be denied the right to celebrate this major accomplishment because I’m too busy trying to remember how to breathe and praying that my heart rate slows down to it’s regular pace. I’m 29 and the answer to all of those questions is I don’t know.

I don’t know. Are you happy?
Hope your anxiety is as high as mine.
Let’s be miserable together.
We can share the paper bag we’ll need to regulate our breathing. 

Can well all agree that we need to learn how to ask better questions? Questions are so often a tool used to get to know someone as how we can define them. Example: the first question usually asked of a new person in your life is ‘What do you do?’ From their answer, we put them in our own specific categories to help us organize our reality. What if we learned how to ask better questions? Questions that do not serve a purpose other than to help another person dream and inspire conversation beyond what pays the bills

Instead of asking me what I plan on doing after graduation, ask me how I am a better version of me today than I was 5 years ago.

Please don’t ask me of my plans for a job, but feel free to ask me about the last thing I did that made me feel completely free.

I will not answer the questions about where I will live, but feel free to ask me about those whom I have chosen to share my life with through tears, conversations, stories, laughter, midnight drunken runs through Capital Hill, Cinco de Mayo dances, cups of coffee, bonfires on the beach at Golden Gardens, early morning tweets, and grocery shopping adventures.

I will find work; I will pay my bills, please do not doubt that. I will pull the most glorious shots of espresso, compile the most delectable sandwich, or format the best looking Excel spreadsheet known to man in order to earn enough money to pay my bills.

In the mean time, may we please pause? May we hold this moment so dear that we stop long enough to take in the fact that I have accomplished something momentous?

I hope we can raise a glass to celebrate the woman I have been,
the woman I am,
and the woman I am in the process of being.




*unless things go horribly, horribly wrong; which, after the Shit Show that was the ending to my 1st Year, I always leave room for the idea that things can, in fact, go horribly, horribly wrong.


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