All Kinds of Fishy Things

Last Monday, I went to Jimmy's new apartment after work. I met his sister, we went to get dinner and then grocery shopping, and then ended up on his couch watching Finding Nemo. I had never seen it before, which caused a minor controversy when I first told Disney- and Pixar-obsessed Richie. I just didn't really have any interest in watching a kid's movie about fish, especially when there were so many other movies that were more deserving of my adult time (like Knocked Up and Clueless). But I finally agreed, and we watched the movie.

And it was AWESOME.

It was funny, and sweet, and I cried (of course). Ellen DeGeneres can make anything better, in my opinion, and this was no different. This movie was so good. I still can't believe I hadn't seen it before. I've decided to reevaluate all the friends I've had and yell at them for never making me watch it before.

Jimmy was very excited about his new extra-large HDsomething something TV. I personally don't care one bit about whether a TV is HD or LCD or flatscreen or 20 inches or 60. It just makes no difference to me. My aunt and uncle have a TV that's like 64 inches or something ridiculous like that...and it makes my head hurt. It is great for playing the Wii, though.

But I digress. After watching the movie, I decided that I needed to get a fish.

So on Wednesday, he met me after work and we went to Petco to get my fish. And the photo at the top of this post is Winston! He's a betta, and I had to buy all the special crap that goes with bettas, but he seems to like his new home. I even colored a picture of the fish tank gang from Finding Nemo and put it on the wall next to him for him to look at. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I swear it's making him smarter. I think he's a fishy genius.

Writing

When I was a kid, I hated writing.

Not the creative part, though. I hated the physical, pencil-on-paper act of taking what was in my mind and organizing it and trying to cull the barrage of ideas I had. I always had more going on upstairs than I could physically write down, and so I found it incredibly frustrating. That was probably a large reason why my papers were always marked down for handwriting: I was too busy trying to write down everything in my head as fast as I could that I didn't care about making my letters pretty.

But I feel like as I've gotten older, I've slowed down. I don't have a thousand ideas bouncing around my head all the time. Part of that is a good thing, in that now I can concentrate on writing papers about psychology without being distracted by a developing story about a girl that goes back to the time of the dinosaurs and fights Darth Vader (I was a weird little kid; I'm pretty sure I actually wrote this story at one point). But I really feel silly for never having things to write about.

I know that it's summer, and at this point I'm just kind of going through the motions, waiting for classes to start. Get up, go to work, hang out with people, come home, go to bed. I have no crazy professors to talk about or papers to complain about or weird classmates to psychoanalyze from afar. But I used to be so creative all the time, with daydreams of unicorns and the beaches of Normandy and a hybrid potato/corn plant (like I said, I was a weird little kid). I think with all the analytical thinking I've been doing the past few years, and the increase in the scientific, logical reading I've had to do for classes, I've started to infringe on the part of my brain that holds the creativity.

The Past Year

Well, the new school year is fast approaching. More than any other time of year, this is the point at which I always end up reflecting on how much my life has changed in the last twelve months. And this one sure was a doozie.

I've done a lot of growing up since this point last year. I'm a lot more sure of who I am. I'm far more confident with regard to my major, my friends, all of the things that are really the basis of the college experience. I've learned some really tough life lessons that were horribly painful. I've lost touch with people that used to mean more to me than almost anything else. I look at the person I was a year ago and almost don't recognize her. The person I am today would never take some of the things that that girl did, at least without one hell of a fight.

I'm also just a heck of a lot happier than I was a year ago. Freshman year of college really took a toll on me, from being away from my mom for the longest stretches of time in my life, to dealing with things that happened with friends that seem almost unbelievable now. I thought I had dealt with everything that had occurred when I returned to school for the beginning of sophomore year. But as it turned out, that challenge wasn't quite over for me yet. I spent the next few months going from being someone's best friend to not knowing her at all. The demise of this relationship still saddens me, but I can look at it with a more objective eye now than I did then.

I think the major reason for the breakdown was a lack of communication. Neither she nor I was willing to be honest about our feelings for a long time, and then once we had each reached a breaking point, there was too much irreparable damage done. I spent a lot of time crying over this loss, but luckily I had an amazing support system, both at home and at school, that opened their arms to me, listened to my troubles, and wiped away my tears.

I've learned that you really have no idea who your true friends are until you hit your lowest point. I did just that: hit the lowest point I'd been in for years. And I had friends that came over, spent the night with me, made me food, took me out when I didn't want to leave the house, and told me what a fantastic person I was. And you know what? I started to believe them.

The amount of self-confidence I have now, versus the amount I had a year ago, is astounding. I no longer have to lean on someone to stay upright; I can stand tall all on my own. And that's the biggest change I've experienced in the past year. I'm smart, and funny, and pretty, and really, really good at what I want to do with my life. I have great friends, a great boyfriend, a great family. I'm really, honestly happy. Finally.

Now, this is not to say that I'm done growing up. On the contrary; I still think I'm mostly a little kid playing dress-up, who still can't figure out how anyone would allow her to live in an apartment in New York City by herself. But I'm in a much better place that I've ever been, I think. And there's a lot to be said for that.

Do I still mourn the loss of the relationships I used to have? Of course. I'm only human, after all. I wish things could have turned out differently. There were points where I acted like an idiot, and I recognize that now. But I'm at a point now where I can recognize my own faults, apologize for them, and work towards being the very best me I possibly can.

Reflection

Today, I came across this article on the New York Times' website. As a psych major, and someone who is planning on spending the rest of her life talking to people about their problems in a setting similar to the ones described here, I found it fascinating. I don't intend to be a psychiatrist, which is the type of therapy that the author of this article has the most familiarity with, but I still think this is one of the best articles on the subject of the "therapy experience" that I've read in a long time.

I've always been the kind of person that other people open up to. I really enjoy talking to people and helping them work through what's going on in their lives, and I think that these two things combine to make me an ideal candidate to be a psychologist. I won't be a psychiatrist. That much I'm sure of. And it has nothing to do with the schooling (I'm going to be in grad school for five years to get my Psy. D. no matter what), it has to do with my beliefs about the use of medications in therapy.

Now, I think that there is a time and a place for medication. There are people that have chemical imbalances in their brains that can be corrected through medication. And I think that these people ought to have (strictly controlled) access to those drugs. But I also think that our society is quick to over-medicate, or to prescribe medication when it isn't necessary at all. I personally rarely even take aspirin. And it has nothing to do with my views on the economic impact of drug companies on our society or any of that. It has to do with the fact that there's nothing wrong with feeling a little bit of pain. Pain, be it physical or emotional, is there for a reason. It's to be paid attention to, not squashed with medication. I've seen numerous people be prescribed medications that do nothing for them but cost money and give them a sense that all of their problems will be solved with the little pill they take every morning.

So it comes as no surprise that I'm an overwhelming advocate of talk therapy. And that's why I've decided to be a clinical psychologist. People open up to me easily. Seriously, this happens to me all the time; I've just got the kind of personality that says "Tell me your secrets!", I suppose. Richie likes to say that all of a sudden people just find themselves in tears while talking to me, without any kind of understanding as to how they got there. And I think that's pretty accurate. (It doesn't hurt that he's probably going to be the subject of my thesis, once I get to that point.)

There is, of course, a difference between being a good friend and a good therapist. But I honestly think that being a good therapist will be easier. There's a lot that goes into being a good friend. It's a big effort, and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. I do my best to be a good friend while also standing up for myself and what's best for me. But in a therapy relationship, there's none of that. I'll have to listen and work through things with patients, but there'll be no required emotional response from me. This is perfect for someone that hates opening up about herself, but loves having other people open up to her. At the end of the day, I'm glad I've chosen this profession. It suits me. And I think I'll really be good at it.

A Lighter Note

Well, my last few posts have been a bit...serious. And I'm not all about the sturm und drang. So it's time for a bit of a recap of what's going on in my life.

• I had a really nice weekend. On Saturday, Jimmy and I went to the Regal in Battery Park to see The Kids Are All Right and Despicable Me. Both were very good movies (in very different ways, of course). I wasn't really sure what to expect from The Kids Are All Right; I knew from previews and a few news stories that it was about a lesbian couple that had raised two kids, that were then interested in meeting the sperm donor that had made their existence possible. It was a really well-written story, and I thought Julianne Moore and Annette Bening did a good job of portraying a believable couple. The movie made me cry (of course) and so once it was over I was ready for a cute, fun film. Despicable Me was just that. We were definitely the oldest people in the theater that didn't have kids with us, but it was just such a fun movie that I didn't even feel out of place. Other than wandering, hot and hungry, around the (terrifying on a weekend night) Financial District for a while in search of an open downtown R station (which was my fault, I should have researched weekend service changes before going to an area of town I'm not familiar with; damn my New York cockiness!), and taking the seventeen escalators each way to actually get to the theater part of the Regal building, we had a lovely time. We went back to my place and ordered delivery BBQ, and then spent the evening hanging out, playing Apples to Apples with Emma, Aubrey, Patrick, and Andrew, and heckling guidos from the rooftop: always good uses for a Saturday evening. Sunday was a lazy day. I meant to clean the apartment, but spent most of the day watching episodes of Bones on Netflix. Whoops.
• I'm still working extra hours this week, since Camilla is on vacation (lucky!). It's leaving me pretty tired, but it's going to be totally worth it when I get my paycheck. The thought of impending book costs and tuition bills...sigh.
• I'm heading to Jersey this weekend to see Richie star in Into The Woods. I've never seen the show, and so all of my friends are keeping totally quiet on everything having to do with it (since they want me to be surprised). Either way, I'll just be happy to get out of the city one last time before school starts back up. Plus, I'm going with Ella, maybe Jimmy, and probably seeing Gerard there! Hooray!
• Other than that, there really isn't too much going on. The next few weeks are going to consist of trying to save as much money as possible for books, registering for classes (I guess I should actually get on that...whoops...), and prepping for Welcome Week. It's going to get a lot busier around the office, what with classes starting back up, and I'm so excited to get to see all of my friends that have gone home for the summer!