late ⏰ phone calls ☎️
How far back do you look to understand the person you are now?
What has remained constant? What has changed?
My kindergarten teacher told my mom she'd, "never have to worry” about me giving in to “peer pressure" during an early parent-teacher conference. How did she conclude that, I wonder? 🤔
My 2nd and 3rd grade playground experiences often included searching out other "social outliers" to see if they were okay.
And my dad frequently chuckled about our central argument in adolescence...how late should I be allowed to receive phone calls? (This mattered greatly since it occurred in the context of a shared house phone, not individual cell phones! 😉)
While my father thought any conversation beginning after 10 p.m. could easily wait until the following day, I didn't see any good reason for a limit on what time a friend in distress may "need" a listening ear. 👂 😊
I wanted every friend to know they weren't alone. I wanted every person to have a space of care and compassion. I wanted them to know that, however badly they were hurting, they mattered. I hope they felt that. (And I valued greatly the friendships who offered the same deep and authentic support.) 💖
These childhood themes have evolved. However, they haven’t faltered.
In many ways, they only expanded.
My multicultural specialization in counseling psychology is one natural extension of these early sensitivities.
As my awareness grew of how many people, including whole identity groups, were treated as "social outliers," so too did my motivation to understand and offer a different experience.
The more people allowed me into their private worlds of deep injuries, injustices, and identities, the more the numerous systemic and interpersonal restrictions on true safety, belonging, inclusion, and compassion were revealed.
And as uncomfortable as it was, and still is, to face these social and racial injustices, it became more and more intolerable to remain ignorant.
I wanted my friends, clients, and expanding family to be able to confide real thoughts, feelings, and challenges...not the public face, but the behind-the-scenes experience.
It remains central to both my personal development and my professional offerings to create spaces where people can process, grieve, feel, and heal. Safely. As their whole selves. Without feeling the need to check or withhold any part of their identity or emotions at the door.
Process. Grieve. Feel. And Heal.
As I support changemakers who are in the trenches, facing the depths and breadth of social and racial injustice, I see the need for these spaces even more urgently.
If you engage in difficult conversations with friends, neighbors, colleagues, and family in service of a message of love and inclusion...
If you navigate the professional challenges of support for DEI-B, DEI-J, or JEDI efforts in your work or community (or any other sequencing of the themes of diversity, justice, inclusion, and belonging!)..
If you carry the emotional burden of addressing microaggressions and macroaggressions for others while simultaneously experiencing them yourself...
You know the immensity of the task. You feel the pain of depletion. You channel the anger of ongoing injustice. You negotiate for what changes are possible in each moment.
You likely know - more than you'd like to - how hard it is to find a safe space to process... grieve... feel... and heal...
Maybe you also realize how essential it is to find and inhabit these spaces so that you can live to fight another day… work to better the world for your loved ones… and keep from either imploding or exploding from the absurdity that we're still fighting about fundamental human rights at all!
As you reflect back on who you are and how you got here, what stands out to you?
How do you honor the parts of you that have always been there?
How have they expanded over time?
And, how do you sustain these core parts of your identity so that you can process, grieve, feel, and heal?
You matter. You make a difference. I'm so thankful you're here.
