On ambition and my new goals

Blake and I were talking the other day about our options for working and caring for our kid, trying to figure out what will be the best balance for both of us to be able to reach our goals and take good care of our child.  Blake started talking about ambition--how he has it.  He was saying that he wants to make the best of his skills as a designer and do awesome things with his career.  He said he's got to feel like he has goals he's working toward.

I heartily agreed.  I'm the same way.  It's one of the ways we are well-suited for each other.  I'd like to think we're mutually supportive of each others' goals because we understand; we both have that drive to push ourselves and to do and be awesome things.

I'm not completely finished with my schooling yet, and I've already set a goal to run a half marathon!  Ambition?  Yup, I get that.

I've  been wanting to get healthier and feel better about my body.  It's not that I really feel so bad about the way I look, but I'm not real proud.  Is this making sense?  I remember how confident I felt when I was a little lighter and in better shape.  I had more energy and just felt good.  I want to get back to that.  (I can't say that I want to get back to pre-pregnancy, because I'm there already.  It's more that I want to get back to pre-degree maybe.  This program has taken a physical toll on many of us.)

I know that setting a goal like "I'm going to workout" or "I will get down to 160" will never happen.  It's just not motivating enough for me.  So, I set an ambitious goal to accomplish something: I want to run a half marathon.  I want to do this one.  It's an all women's race through and around Disneyland.  Just running around Pomona or something isn't as motivating to me as a Disneyland race.  So, I'm paying the extra bucks for registration and doing it.  The most scariest thing about it for me isn't the distance--given enough time anyone can go 13.1 miles--it's the time limit.  You have to maintain a 16 minute per mile pace or they pick you up and don't let you finish.  Yikes!

The race isn't until January, so I've got lots of time to train.  I bought a running trainer app for my phone that's pretty wonderful.  It plays music from my iPod and then has a trainer voiceover.  So, the trainer comes on and says "Time for 60 seconds of running" and then I run to my music and when it's over he comes back on and says "go ahead a slow down for 2 minutes of walking."  It's just what I need.  Somehow keeping track of the training aspects at the same time I'm trying to push myself to do something I haven't been a big fan of in the past was a little too much.  The trainer app is just what I needed to push me over the edge and help me fully commit.

The app I bought has different training programs.  I'm starting with the 5K program now, will do the 10K next (in preparation for this race, it should be beautiful, will build my confidence, and gives me an intermediate goal to work toward), and that should put me right on track to complete the half marathon training for January.  It's kind of nice to go out in the morning; I see lots of other people jogging and walking around the neighborhood and park near our apartment.  One day last week I ran on the treadmill in our fitness center.  At my current pace, I'm right around 16 minutes per mile.  Now, I don't know that I could keep it up for 13 right now, but that is encouraging news.

I'm sharing all this in part because I'm excited about it, in part because writing down my goals will help me increase my dedication and increase the likelihood I'll accomplish this (research shows it's true), and in part to invite anyone who is interested to join me.  Tinker Bell race anyone?  10K on the coast?

On my final case presentation

So, here's how it went:

The week before my presentation I had to turn my papers in to my panel members.  One lengthy paper was an explanation of the theory I chose for this project--Emotionally Focused Therapy for couples--and how it relates to me and my life experience.  The paper was difficult because I chose a complicated theory.  It has great results, but is complicated and hard to implement.  It takes a lot of skill on the part of the therapist.  My second, slightly shorter paper was about a client, in this case a married couple, that I worked with.  I had to outline what their concerns were, what our goals were, how I conceptualized the case, my hypotheses and diagnoses, and then a detailed explanation of what we did in treatment.  I also had to submit a video log describing the clips I planned to show in my presentation.

The morning of the presentation I got up later than I planned.  I don't set an alarm anymore, because I have this cute baby alarm that was going off every morning at 7.  That morning she slept til 7:45.  All was well though, I still made it on time. First, I had to go to the clinic where I work to pick up my video recordings.  I had to have special consent from my clients to use them for this presentation, including permission to transport PHI (protected health information, like names and video recordings) from my clinic to the university and back.  Part of the policy in the clinic is that PHI is transported in a locked briefcase the clinic provides.  There was just barely enough room for my recordings.

I got over to the university and had time to set up my laptop with the projector and speakers for my presentation.  I had an hour and a half to make my presentation--describing the theory I chose to use with my clients and how I worked with this case from beginning to end.  I finished in about an hour and fifteen minutes and had time to answer questions from the panel of my professors.  One of the members of my panel let me know in advance one of the questions he would be asking me.  He said he was genuinely interested in the answer and wanted to give me time to think about it and research it if needed. It was about whether my theory was appropriate for grief work.  I did the research, and we had a really good discussion about it.  The chair of my panel actually had to stop the conversation so we could move on to the next portion.

I was given a short description of a case--seriously, it was only a small paragraph--and given seven minutes to read it over and make a plan for how I would approach the case.  Then I presented my ideas to my panel and they had the opportunity to ask me more questions.  In each of the case vignettes there are certain things you have to address or you don't pass.  You've got to hit all the crisis issues and not miss or mess up on any legal or ethical issues.

Then I got to leave the room while my panel deliberated and discussed.  They invited me back in and let me know I passed.  Hooray!  They didn't even have any revisions on my papers!  (I'm going to brag about myself now.)  The panel then gave me some very wonderful feedback.  They told me how impressed they were that I've been able to become competent and proficient in such a complicated model.  They strongly encouraged me to continue with the certification and assured me I could have a very successful career as a couple's therapist.  They told me how they'd seen me progress as a therapist and a person, that I come prepared and ask insightful questions about my cases that get to the heart of the matter.  I was told that I have a way of making people comfortable around me and that it's evident my clients trust me.  One of them told me that master therapists have a way of focusing on what's really important; he told me that he thinks I'm able to do that, that it's a gift.  

It was so nice to hear such nice things about myself and to be recognized for the hard work I have put into my work with clients and into learning the theory I chose.  I know I could have chosen a simpler theory, but I chose EFT because I believe in it and it works.  The success rates are twice what they are with other approaches to couples therapy.  Doing my final case presentation was the last hurdle I had to get over before graduation.  I've been working toward this for almost three years now.  I'm so pleased that I've accomplished it.  (Let me just throw in there that I got married and had a baby since I started this journey!  Whew!  What a crazy few years.  Is it time to rest yet?)

On those other Mother's Day songs

I went looking through the children's songbook today to find a mother song that we could change the words to--my little baby wanted to sing a song for her grandma.  The selection is not stellar.  Turns out that clover song I was ranting about the other day is the best one.  Maybe that's why it gets sung so often.

In related news, the traditional primary Mother's Day musical number in church today was especially awesome.  We were sitting in the second-to-last row.  It was basically a piano solo with kids standing on the stage.  Maybe if you were in the front row there was singing to be heard, but we sure didn't hear it.  The pianist did a nice job playing the clover song though.

(I'm sorry to anyone who loves the mother songs.  I don't mean to offend.  I'm sure that when my kid sings them I'll get all teary-eyed and think they're great; I've got a tender heart.  But, when they're deconstructed, I'm not a fan.  I know, I know, the problem started with deconstructing primary songs.  I'm a weirdy, what can I say?)

On graduations

The long list of names, the mildly interesting speeches, the painfully boring presentation of research (yes, this happens).  Graduations are awesome.

Ten years ago I graduated from high school.  Well, more accurately, I completed high school and received my diploma, but I didn't go to the graduation.  I thought graduation was a boring and pointless ceremony.  I remember thinking that graduating from high school wasn't that big of an accomplishment, that it was kind of a given, and therefore not really worth all the celebration.  Holy cow!  Seriously?  Yes, I laugh now at how naive those thoughts were.  I was so privileged and didn't even realize it.  (I'm talking about social privilege here.  You know, race, socioeconomic status.)  

I have since had experiences that opened my eyes.  I understand that there are many youth and even adults in the world who may never have the opportunity to gain education equivalent to my high school diploma. Then, relative to my peers within this country, I realize my high school experience was above average.  I got it without really wanting, working, or sacrificing for it.  It was just a given.  Everybody graduates from high school, right?

So, I didn't go to my high school graduation ceremony (so, no pics of that one).  If I recall correctly, we went to equestrian special olympics instead.  Just over three years ago, I graduated from BYU.  I went to that graduation.  

Somehow, graduating from college seemed like more of an accomplishment to me.  It was something I had worked hard for and was proud of.  (I got my degree in English and just ended that last sentence in a preposition!)  I was also seven years older and somewhat wiser, I'd like to think.

In just over a month, I have another graduation coming up.  I'm finishing my masters degree.  Now I feel so incredibly privileged and just lucky to have had the opportunity to get this degree.  I tear up a little just thinking about it.  I know not everyone would want to do what I did if given the chance.  But I did want it, and I feel blessed to have been able to achieve this goal.  

I present my final case next Friday.  It's an oral comprehensive where I defend my clinical work in front of a panel of my professors, they ask me questions based on papers I have submitted and video clips I show.  I show them that I am competent as a therapist and they tell me whether I can pass and graduate from the program.  

I am going to this graduation.  I wouldn't miss it.  I might be wearing pajamas under my gown.  I might not have time to take a shower or put on makeup that morning, but I'm going.  I'll march across that stage  with drool and spit up on my robe and maybe collapse in an exhausted heap on the other side, but I'm going.  Pictures of that one coming soon . . . 

On that one mother's day song

If you went to primary in an LDS church, you might have sung this song:

“I often go walking in meadows of clover,
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over,
Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you.

Oh Mother, I give you my love with each flower
To give forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through
For if I love blossoms and meadows and walking,
I learn how to love them, dear Mother, from you.”

Maybe you sang it a lot, maybe every year, maybe more than that.  I don't get it.  I never liked this song.

First off, on a practical level, whose experience does this fit?  How many children in the English speaking LDS world often go walking in meadows of clover?  I've never seen a meadow of clover.  I'm not even sure that clover blossoms are blue; I'm just taking the song's word for it.

Second, I have problems with the song on principle.  Flowers aren't something that remind me of my mother, and as a woman, I don't like the implication that flowers "should" remind us of mothers.  You know what reminds me of my mother?  The beach, the swap meet, Jack-in-the-box tacos, children's books, puzzle kind of learny games, and the smell of mentholatum.  I'd like to see someone write a song about that!

Third, as a mother, I hope I have more to teach my children than to love walking and blossoms and meadows.  Now, these things aren't bad, nor is enjoying them.  But, if my kid is going to be singing over and over again about the things I taught her, I don't want it to be walking and meadows.  All kidding aside, I sincerely hope that my daughter could say that she learned to love others from watching me.  I hope I can teach her to treat others, especially those not like her, with kindness, compassion, and understanding.  From watching me, I hope she will learn to be a confident woman with a strong sense of self-worth and dignity in a world that tries in insidious ways to take that away.  Maybe, if I'm lucky, she'll also learn to love board games and hiking and rodeos and cemeteries.