Living Out My Childhood Dreams

Yesterday, I walked at graduation for my Masters of Science in Clinical Mental Health Counseling (with Honors)… and it was kind of big deal– not because I was smart enough, but because I finished it.

Remember how as a kid people were often asking, “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Well, I don’t remember ever really wanting to “be” anything. My mom may remember better than I if that’s true. I think my family and close friends have always thought of me as wildfire– so passionate and intense, but then moving on very quickly, leaving ashes behind me– in true Aries fashion. Looking back, I can see why people see me that way, but one positive thing I can say about myself is I always felt like I was living with purpose even if my choices were fleeting or whimsical.

This is not a hyperbole, you guys. Let’s just review a few of my choices:

  • In undergrad I changed my major 7 times (all of them in the arts). I had to go to summer school every year just to finish in 5 years and then decided to turn some of those extra classes into 2 minors.
  • In college I used to make clothes and purses and sell them in dorms. And once when I was in the mountains, I ran into a D list musician that said he really liked my shirt. When I told him I made it he asked if I’d make him one to wear on stage that night. Somehow I actually made that happen (in a very short amount of time) with help from some friends. We went to his show that night and he really wore it– on stage, in front of thousands of people. I never wanted to be a clothes designer though, so I eventually stopped making them and I don’t think I even noticed that I had quit. I was just busy doing other things.
  • During college, at various times I worked as a receptionist, Chick-fil-a employee, nanny, a server at a bar, and more. Just imagine young Bea sitting on a turned-over bucket in the kitchen of a bar writing poems at 2am. That’s how I survived my junior year.
  • After graduation I moved to California where I worked doing media/film production for a church plant. I worked as a nanny, a free lance journalist, a server, and a substitute teacher. I flew to San Francisco to take the LSAT so I could go to law school (If you’re thinking, “I didn’t know you went to law school” it’s because I didn’t, I changed my mind. San Francisco was lovely though). I started a MFA program for Creative Writing-Poetry at San Diego State so I could be a professor– I dropped out during the first semester. I was an online private investigator. I worked at a school for kids mostly on the Autism spectrum doing ABA therapy. I started my own baking company…
  • 4 years later I moved back to Georgia and worked as a English tutor. I also drew up business plans to open a cafe/coffee shop that I did not open. Then worked with special needs children at a private school.

…All before starting my current Masters program. I’ve had many people from other phases of my life ask me, “Did you always want to be a therapist? I never knew you were interested in that.” The answer is, no, I did not know I wanted to be a therapist. Actually, it never crossed my mind. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a therapist when I started this program– I was just using it as a stepping stone to do something else. If you thought reading this short history of my life was exhausting, imagine walking through life with me during all of this, choking on the smoke of my dying flames as you’re running to catch up.

Currently, I’m interning at a child advocacy center doing trauma-focused therapy for sexually abused kids. Since I work with kids, I have to use a lot of play therapy. We use this because kids don’t really have the cognitive ability to tell you what is going on with them, so we observe their “play” to get information about how they think and feel since most often kids act out in “play” the things they know. So lately, I’ve been thinking back to my “play” as a child and trying to observe my behaviors. Here are things I remember about little Bea.

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  • I used to put together very “unique” outfits (photo above is not an example– beach attire is way too mainstream) and I thought it was totally acceptable to wear them anywhere I wanted. I guess this was a frequent argument with my mom. She said eventually she decided to put together 3 outfits for me and let me choose which one I wanted to wear so I still felt as if I had some creative control.
  • I used to pretend to be a detective. I would go through people’s things. I carried around a notebook and wrote down clues. I was forever on the hunt for my sister’s diary, trying to figure out what she was up to. Truthfully, I’m still nosey as hell, just less invasive. Now days, I won’t go through your things, but if you leave your text messages open I will absolutely read whatever is right there on the screen– even if you are a complete stranger and I have no invested interest in you. I just wanna know what you are up to and hopefully catch you in a lie. And if you leave your Christmas list on the kitchen table (ahem, Maggie Ginn) I will read it and spoil your gift ideas for me, but I’d never go looking for my present. Boundaries, ya know.
  • Along the same lines, I was always a writer. This went hand in hand with being a detective because I was writing stories about the information I imagined found. Sometimes, I just wrote about my strong opinions. Once, when I was about 6 years old and bored in church I wrote an exposé on the relationship between Christmas presents and Jesus Christ and it was published in the local newspaper (Submitted, I think by my mother, whom found it funny a 5-6yr old had very strong opinions on such topics.) And more times than not, if I ever asked my dad a question, especially involving the word “why” he would answer “if you’re writing a book, just leave that chapter out.” He said this because it infuriated me, but I did ask a lot of questions.
  • I owned a lot of businesses as a child. I used to pick apples and try to sell them at the end of driveway– the lemonade stand was so overdone, even in the 80s, so I was branching out! Unfortunately, living in a rural area, no one actually drove on my road so I was just waiting for the mailman. However, the set back with the apple business did not stop me and my cousin Becca from baking cakes in our Easy Bake ovens and selling them at the end of the driveway. This buisness venture was also a failure. So naturally we opened up a restaurant on the back porch and sold them all to our pretend dessert-hungry customers.
  • I was very domesticated. I loved to cook, clean, and host tea parties. My cousins and I used to act out plays (that we made up) and I always wanted to be the lady that made all the mud pies food.
  • I often pretended to be an indian. Maybe because I am part Cherokee and wanted to play out what that life would have been like for me in a tribe setting?
  • I was really into justice and hypothetical situations. According to my memories, a lot of the times I got in trouble were for doing the right thing, even if I had to break the rules to do it. When I was in kindergarten my mom was called to the school because I unintentionally initiated a sit-in when the special needs girl in our class wasn’t afforded more time to finish her art project which would make her the only kid in the class that wouldn’t have one. I volunteered to give up my recess to help her, but when my suggestion was denied, it turned into something more like, “you can’t make me leave this classroom and I choose to stay here until she’s finished.” I don’t remember this, but my mom said she was told that because of my stance, the others kids got back out all the art supplies they had just put away– it caused some chaos. My teacher told her I was insubordinate. I don’t know if this is important to mention, but this girl never asked for my help. Then when I was a teenager, freshly licensed, with my parents still paying for my gas; I used to give friends from school a ride home. When my mom found out I was doing this I got in big trouble, because A) it was not legal to have others ride with me. B) she was flipping the bill for this taxi service. In my eyes: weren’t those things arbitrary, was I not being a good Samaritan?
  •  Lastly, I remember when I was 15, riding in the car with my mom, talking about my boyfriend of 2 weeks, she said she worries about me because she thinks I’m attracted to men that “need help.” She tried to teach me that even if my heart was big enough and patient enough to see past where someone is and see the potential in who they want to be– that does not make for a healthy romantic relationship. I wanted to be the one that didn’t give up on the ones that have been given up on. She encouraged me to find a boy that already was the person he wanted to be– because I deserved to be loved well too. Who knew my mom was such a little fortune teller, narrating the demise to come of all my future romantic interests. And while we’re here, I just have to speak some truth in case someone needs to read it: My mother was so right and It took me 30 years to believe it for myself; but it is not enough that you are strong enough to love someone through the person they are now into the person they want to be– if that person is not capable of returning that much love to you– and most often they cannot offer that to you when they have not made peace with themselves. You deserve to be loved as well as you love.

So the thing I learned from thinking over my childhood “play” and behaviors is that they were very telling of the woman I’d grow up to be. Even though it never crossed my mind to be a therapist, the more in depth I became in this program, the more it became clear to me that I’d really been training for this my entire life. I am extremely curious about people, I want to know everything about you, I want to understand you, and I even want to validate you. I want to know your stories. I care deeply for the well-being of others. I care about equal rights and justice and being a really loud voice for someone who isn’t being heard. I also still want to own my own business (details to come later). And I still really want to write books– leaving no chapters out, Dad. I am, as an adult, living out my childhood dreams, even if I didn’t have a label to put on it.

I didn’t really know what I was doing when I started this Masters program, and I know I took the long way around to get here, but I am truly proud of myself for seeing this through. I’ve learned more about myself, forgiven myself, and accepted myself in these past 2 years than I ever have before. I am so thankful to each of you who were patient with me, who supported me through each wild idea that lead me to this point, and those who were forgiving when I was short on time and had to cancel our plans. I love you all so much and appreciate your support more than you know.



And I’m probably just saying this because its January 2015…

“And I’m probably just saying this because it’s January 2015,” is how I’ve ended so many text messages to close friends this month, typically in regards to some great new idea I have about living a better life. Just go ahead and tag that on to the end of this post. There is nothing profound or new about saying that January is a time of renewal, a time to review the previous year and assess the things we didn’t like and the things we could make better. Well, this January I’ve had a lot to grieve and think through, as I feel that I wasted most of last year. And please spare me your well-intentioned validations that nothing is ever wasted, because this is my blog and my feelings and I’m allowed to feel what I feel. And, yes, without the acknowledgement that time was wasted then how am I to make changes?

In August, after returning from California, I spun into a personal winter. I have so much love and joy for my people in California and for the city of San Diego, that by contrast it illuminated everything about my life in Atlanta that wasn’t good. The past several months, I finally began to make allowances for solitude and to allow things to die in and around me that needed to die. That was a much needed place to be. However at the same time, I also sprinted towards my go-to coping strategy: I should move, this world is so big, I could go anywhere and be happier.  Keep in mind I’ve permanently marked my body with a reminder that I can’t just move whenever I’m unhappy. It’s okay for me travel and see the world, but I should also be rooted somewhere and have a place to call home. So I’ve been battling my urge to leave and start over for months.

There is this phrase we use in the psych field called external locus of control. It means a person does not believe they have control over the things that happen to them; these events happen because of your environment or another person. Recently, I was able to catch up with my good friend Katie and while we were talking I realized that Atlanta was my external locus of control. I was believing that I am who I am right now and life is what it is right now because of Atlanta– though this city does not have the power to spell me to be this way. It really came down this: the four years I was in San Diego I grew so much and there was a lot I loved about myself and my life there, then upon moving back here I resorted back to the person I was years before.  I hang out with the same kind of people (whom I love) and do the same things as before (things that I like)… but I’m not the same person– I am so much more. As my friend Kirk says, “coming home is really hard.” And it truly is.

I get stuck in this weird place sometimes where I always feel like I’m spinning my wheels, then I look around and see the people around me moving on– going on about their business. And you would think I’d be wishing to join them and keep moving forward just like my peers, but I don’t wish that. I secretly wish they were still stuck in the mud with me. I’m genuinely happy for them that they are living their joy, but I don’t yet want what they have– so instead of joining them, I wish they’d join me so we could all be together. I selfishly want them to be confused too, I want them to be spinning their wheels, and I want to be able to hang out with them till 3am talking it out over gluten free pizza or thai food, (depending on the day I’m having).

The truth is, I could get there, I could catch up, but I just don’t want to.  I still feel lost most of the time, and I’d rather be here than there. I know that sounds backwards or weird to share but it’s the truth. I realized Atlanta is not stunting my growth because I have the power inside of me to be who I want to be or do what I want to do. So if it’s not Atlanta’s fault, and I have awareness of my power, the thing that’s left are my choices. So I’ve spent this whole month of January going over so many things in my mind: evaluating the choices I’ve made, the people I’ve let in, the people I’ve kept out, and the WHYs to all of it. The first couple of weeks, I came up with really simple solutions for all of my weak areas, but anyone who has had the honor of living with me can tell you simple solutions just aren’t my thing. Before this month ended all of those solutions were already tossed to the wayside.

The other truth I learned about this past year is that I didn’t have personhood goals. I had a goal that I wanted to maintain a 4.0 in my masters program and I wanted to be a really great therapist. And I’ve worked really hard for those things. But I never had any goals about the person I wanted to be or the personal life I wanted to be living. Because of this, I let some people in that didn’t deserve my time…. thus, leading to time wasted– because time is a currency in which I’m too poor to exchange for nothing in return (wink to MK 🙂 ).

So here’s to a new year. I still don’t have a “plan” if those are even real. And simple solutions are still lost on me. But I know that I have to power to be the person I want to be, your opinions be damned (as usual). So I’ve made a list of qualities about myself and my talents/hobbies that I want to consciously refine. As well as list of people that mean too much to me for time and location to be an issue when it comes to catching up and hanging out. That’s all I’ve got for 2015, but I think it’s gonna be a really beautiful year.

Also, you should know that I do really love Atlanta as city… just not as the personified being that I was believing it to be.

Wishing you all a beautiful new year and time not wasted!!

Speaking of change and new things… if you didn’t already know…

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So That Thing I Said About

In my last post I made a quip about always checking out dogs on, which I’ve been visiting on a weekly basis for forever.  Well, I just couldn’t resist any longer. This is Hank, he was in an animal shelter just a few miles from my house. I fell in love with him immediately.  He is perfect, and a christmas miracle.

A Compliment, A Cookie, and Dolly Parton

One of my supervisors has this belief that when you think positive thoughts about a person it’s selfish if you don’t share it.  To some extent I was already doing this, but there are definitely times when I hold back because I fear coming off as super creepy or like I’m flirting.

In the mental health field, I am often reminded how fragile we can be (likewise, how strong we can be).  I’ve also noticed that it is so rare to find people that care enough for humanity in general to stop and acknowledge that though you may be killin’ it in life right now, the person in front of you waiting for their latte may be going through hell. And you have so much power to change their day.  You may be thinking, “hmm, I like those shoes. I should google those,” or “I really like that hair cut” and you may think that’s so insignifcant but maybe to that person it isn’t.

SOAPBOX DETOUR: I’ve noticed over the past several months, here in Atlanta, that whenever I’m in the grocery store I see at least one person, if not more, wearing headphones while they shop. And I mean like Beats headphones too… these people are not talking to their sick grandmothers while they pick up her chicken noodle soup, they are definitely listening to music.  I’m a music fanatic and I just can’t understand this. I really feel like they want to be that disengaged from other people (which is any person’s right, respectively), like they’re nervous you may ask them to hand you a box of cereal because they are taller or closer. And it doesn’t matter how tall a person is, if they’re wearing Beats, you’ll probably just stand on the lowest shelf and use your middle finger to inch the box towards the edge until it successfully hits you in the head. END SOAPBOX.

There are so many people out there who struggle with their self-worth or don’t feel loved or appreciated and sometimes just acknowledging that you can actually SEE them could change their attitude at least for the rest of the day, if not longer.


So several weeks ago, I was having one of those super bad days. Ya know like: hadn’t slept > traffic was insane so I was late to work >  work was abnormally crazy >  left an assignment at home that I needed for school > went home to get the assignment, got a speeding ticket > blah blah blah. And coffee being one of my greatest pleasures, I decided, I NEED A COFFEE! So I stop at the Dancing Goats by my house. I’m seriously fighting back tears, and then decide a coffee just won’t cut it because this place sells gluten free cookies (PSA! and you’re welcome) so I add one to my order and eat it immediately.

Then this thing began to happen that often happens with clients in session  all human beings, we call it “catastrophizing.” It looks like this: This day is THE WORST… OMG did you seriously just eat that whole cookie before he handed you your coffee? That definitely won’t help you lose those 6 pounds, which is probably why you are still single, you know better than to eat your feelings, no man will ever love you, too bad you’re too poor to rescue that boxer from because you’ll definitely die alone.

We all do this and it’s so silly.

So as I make my way over to grab a coffee sleeve, I notice this lady leaving. She gets all the way to the door, then turns back around, and walks toward me. She approaches me and says, “Excuse me, hi, I just really wanted to tell you that I think you have the most beautiful hair.” Okay, so maybe I’m vain, but it totally changed what was left of my day. You know why? Because I was having a shitty day, and someone acknowledged my presence. This lady was at the door, had reached the exit, she didn’t have to turn around, she didn’t have to talk a stranger, but she was generous to give one minute of her time to share a kind word, and I was grateful. As someone who often struggles with a complex of being forgettable, just having another person acknowledge “Hey, I see you” really did make me feel less alone. I thanked her and when I got to my car I decided, “Hey you, enough of this Daughter album today. It’s time to put on your jam and turn this day around!” For those who don’t know, THE jam is “Islands in the Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.

The other great thing about this encounter is that because I decided in that moment to let go of my bad day, I stopped catastrophizing. And what could have easily been a pity party hangover the next day, instead sobbered up in that compliment. And the bigger picture is that there are people out there with much bigger problems than an upset boss and a speeding ticket. And you have the power- not to change their situation- but to shed a little light and love into their terrible time.  I encourage you to use that power. If a postiive thought about another person pops into your head, don’t be selfish, share it. And share it even if you have to motion for them to remove their Beats headphones just to tell them you like their shoes.

In the spirit of sharing, may this brighten your day, as it most certainly will mine: