On Halloween morning this year, I considered whether or not I should wear a costume to my Zumba class.
At first, it seemed like an inconsequential decision.
Wear one, don't wear one, who really cares, right??!!
But as the day transpired, I realized there were a couple of things that did feel important about my eventual decision to don a little devil outfit and head to class.
Recently, I shared a post on Instagram and Facebook about how therapists are imperfect humans too. It seemed to resonate with a lot of people so I thought I would add it here as well.
Feel free to leave any questions or comments below. And if you know anyone who might benefit from this reminder, please share...
Thanks for reading.
In my training last weekend, I got to confront some of my work-in-progress-ness. It felt like a good a time to share this reminder.
Your therapist is not perfect. She is human.
One day it occurred to me that I no longer knew how to answer when people asked, "how are you?"
I don't know when it happened exactly. All I know is that this ordinary, everyday question was quite literally stopping me in my tracks.
A friend or coworker who I hadn’t seen in a while would enthusiastically ask, “how are you?!” and I would become speechless (which if you know me, you know that's really saying something).
I would pause waiting for the right words to appear.
When I first started running, it was brutal.
Let's be honest, it still is. I am perpetually falling out of this habit. Every time I return after a long break, it feels almost as hard as it did when I started.
I never wanted to be a runner. I didn't understand why people would voluntarily subject themselves to this particular brand of torture.
Then one day, for reasons I don't fully understand, I wanted to try.
After working with people for many years, certain universal truths began to reveal themselves.
We all long for connection.
We all long to be seen, understood, loved and accepted.
And: We are terrified these things won't ever happen.
We feel ashamed. We feel lonely. We feel afraid.
We compare ourselves and our lives to others and we rarely measure up.
When welcoming new people to class, my Zumba teacher often tells them not to worry about what other people are thinking.
"No one is watching you. I promise."
fara tucker, lcsw
therapist~consultant~teacher in Portland, Oregon