A little something I noticed when organizing my closets today (an exceedingly rare occurrence, so it’s nice when it’s also a learning opportunity).
My work clothes (on the left) are depressed, while my workout/weekend clothes (on the right) are having a party.
It’s no secret to anyone who has met me for more than ten minutes that I’m struggling to decide about the direction of my career. This will mark ten years in psychotherapy private practice, and I’ve found myself once again cast into the grungy pond of restlessness and dissatisfaction. A familiar metaphorical-geographical feature in my life, but this time feels a little different. Perhaps it’s the milestone nature of this go-around (ten years!) or perhaps it’s because I’ve found a focus that feels a bit like a calling in my quest for fitness, but this time I won’t be content to listlessly paddle around in the murk before hauling myself out and drying myself off, casting a sidelong, wary look at the body of heavy, oily water that I’ve always known will draw me back in, yet again, eventually.
Because this time…This time it feels like I need to finally learn what I need to about algae and minerals and bacteria and muck, and to get out of that place once and for all. And rather hilariously, it’s getting Muddy that’s the impetus.
It’s no coincidence I’m sure, that lately I’ve been dreaming about water. Vague dreams that are beyond the reach of my memory when I awake, but usually have something to do with transformation.
In my waking life, I’m taking swimming lessons, for confidence and drowning-avoidance at the upcoming Tough Mudders, and in the numbing, ice blue water of the high school pool, I am finding myself quite literally transformed. I am learning to swim. My body and my brain are learning to work together to propel me across and through water. Deep water, my old nemesis, is becoming my uneasy ally.
So what does this have to do with the clothes in my newly organized closets?
I’ve been living my work life far too much of the time in the mossy green, off-black, mud brown silt of surviving-not-thriving. Seeing the “work” section of my closet reflect that back to me today was illuminating. The “fitness” side of my closet much more clearly represents the life I imagine – beautifully represented in my mind by cerulean skies reflected on the rose-washed surface of flourishing, vibrant clear waters.
What will this mean for my work? This is one of the most essential and exciting questions for me to ponder in 2015. Women who use their bodies can learn to love their bodies. Women who love their bodies love themselves. And women who love themselves are gifts of jewel-bright love to those around them, and to all of us.
If I can help women (and men) learn to know, use, love, and treasure their bodies in my work…Then I suspect it will no longer feel like “work” at all.
I welcome your thoughts!