Reflections on Alter’s Year One

Conquering my fear of a very scary, very steep hill in Tahiti this year!

I’m celebrating the one-year anniversary of Alter Counselling this September and, in an effort to practice what I preach, I’m marking this milestone with a reflection on some the lessons I learned during my first full year in private practice.

Finding my Own Rhythm

It’s been both exhilarating and terrifying to leave the safe harbour of a salaried position for the uncharted waters of my own practice. Part of the decision to make the leap was a desire, at midlife, to be in charge of my own schedule, to have my days flow in a way that best suits my own internal rhythms.

It turns out, however, that years of ignoring one’s own internal rhythms for the 9 to 5 of the workplace is difficult to break. The big questions I’ve been trying to ask myself this year has been: How do I want to shape my days? When do I want to work and how much?

At midlife, it somehow feels imperative to find an answer to these questions and work with myself in a way I’ve never been able to before. For instance, mornings are when I like to write. Mid-afternoons usually signal an ebb in energy for me, so I try to have that time free for walking or resting. My brain doesn’t work so well after 7 so I try not to take clients too late.

I’m not exactly sure if I’ve got it yet, but I do know what I want:  to feel fully engaged in my life, to feel an ease and a flow as I contemplate the next thirty odd years (if I’m lucky) of my existence. While I’ve made a lot of progress, I’m still figuring it out, trying to catch myself when doubts such as “but maybe you should extend your hours” or “work later or earlier or just more” come in to my mind.

Thank you for your patience as I tweak my schedule every couple of months to try and find the rhythm that works!

Seasons

Having a whole year under my belt gave me a sense of general patterns in health and well-being (extremely anecdotal and not at all scientific, I hurry to point out.) Late Autumn—when the schedules begin to feel as heavy as the cold grey skies—seems to be when people start feeling the need for therapy. This reaches a climax in the winter months of January, February and March when for many, life feels hopeless and dark.

But when the sun starts coming out around April and May, people start feeling miraculously better. Though I’d love to associate it with my killer therapy skills, I’m pretty sure that having more exposure to the sun is responsible. The days are longer, there’s more light, warmth and sunshine. Therapy becomes less of a priority.

This is a reminder to myself  and to my clients that we’re not separate from this world.

We’re affected by the weather around us just as our internal weather can affect others. Perhaps this is a gentle reminder to not take our own weather so seriously; while it may feel like we’re going to be in a permanent cloud for the rest of our life, the only constant in weather  and in emotions is that they change. Skies clear. The sun comes out. Things feel less dire.

The Terrible Insecurity of the New and Different

It’s also a reminder for me to not freak out— everything happens in waves. There were times during this year when I seriously doubted myself. Last September, I launched my website, got my Psychology Today post up and was working on the dreaded social media posts (which I am very bad at due to intense hatred of the medium—clearly something I need to work on) and then…crickets. What I had done? What was I thinking? Who the heck did I think I was changing things up at my age? Maybe it was all a terrible mistake and I was not meant to be a therapist! I sucked! Why would anyone come and see me?

Yep, all of my little protective parts got very activated. I soothed them the best I could my wise adult,  reassuring them that “it takes time”, “we just got going, we can’t quit now” and “either way, we’ll be okay” and of course, it only took a couple of months before clients began to trickle in. By December, I was working some pretty full days.  

The Terrible Suffering of Comparing Myself to Others

But how were my colleagues doing? Were they busier than me? Which training were they doing? Should I do that? Why do they have waitlists and I don’t? What am I doing wrong? Am I lazy? Do I need to do more? Oh my god, what if I suck! Why would anyone come and see me?

Ah, those protective parts again.

It’s only in the last month that I’ve been really trying to let go of comparing myself to others. I tell my clients all the time that we’re all on our unique journey; no one has walked the path you have and therefore cannot judge your current or future path.

It’s time for me to really internalize this for myself.

I’ve always been more of a tortoise than a hare, taking things slow, pondering my next move. It might mean I’m less “ahead” (whatever that means) than others but it also means I’m doing it my way, taking the time to listen to my gut and learn what I need to learn from my mistakes. I’m coming to embrace my plodding approach to life and accept that my way of building a practice will be slow and intentional. I want to grow, but not at such a rate that it causes me stress and pain.

All that to say, I’m learning how to let go of another layer of comparison to others and really embrace my own journey, though sometimes, it takes a lot of deep breathing and talking myself down…

The Ever-Humbling Great Honour of Being a Fellow Traveller with my Clients

The biggest lessons of all have come from my clients. I am confronted everyday with unique versions of humanity, all beautiful, sometimes really sad, sometimes lost, but all with their own internal wisdom. It’s extremely humbling to bear witness to the grief, joys, sorrows, sufferings and struggles of my clients. I’m constantly in awe of how they show up every week and do the hard work of letting go of what does not serve them and finding ways to be in the world that allows their full humanity to shine through.

To sum it up, my greatest lesson is learning how to hold all this love and gratitude for my fellow travellers. Thank you for allowing me to walk beside you on your journey even if it’s just for part of the way. It truly means the world to me.