Massachusetts to Virginia, Wednesday Jan 7

I woke up around 5am after falling asleep around 1am and was greeted by Matt, who woke up to my bumbling about, smacking me promptly on the leg. I’m grateful; a hearty laugh can remedy even the strongest exhaustion. I drive 1.5 hours to Northampton, Massachusetts. My interview was at 8:30am, so I had no time for sightseeing this particular morning. Still, I catch glimpses of what I can here and there, but the VA is a bit removed from the town so all I see are snow-capped homes with no fences, beautiful streams running through forests, and the impressive brick filled compound that is the VA. I am struck by the difference in age of the VAs across the country; on the East Coast it is not uncommon for the VAs to have opened as early as the 1920s. The buildings are remarkably beautiful.

I interview until about 12, and then head to check out the town of Northampton, which I have heard is a must-see. I park in front of a Starbucks (the mark of any credible town, ha) and pay a meter half the price I would pay if I were in San Francisco. I am instantly aware that Northampton, upon first appraisal, is a snowy version of Portland, Oregon; Arcata, California, or towns of the like: crosswalks are painted the colors of the rainbow, tiny shops filled with crystals and tarot cards line the street, disadvantaged mentally ill folks roam the streets, the local Unitarian church advertises an LGBT flag and Black Lives Matter manner in a way that seems to rival my assumptions of New England. This place is, at first glance, a liberal haven among stuffiness. I feel right at home.

Downtown Northampton

Northampton hotel

Unitarian Church in downtown

I decide to take advantage of the free hour or so I have before needing to rush to the airport and take a stroll in the unkind weather. I don’t regret it; I find tiny hidden pathways weaving through the town, restaurants with somewhat cliché names such as “Zen” (yes, it was a tea garden), and a sizeable music hall. I think to myself, I could live here.

Having no idea that I am actually only about a mile from Smith College, another spot that came highly recommended to me (Katie attended undergraduate school there), I get back in the car and GPS it. I am happy I did- Smith is a striking, small liberal arts school with large fields, a frozen over pond, and unique dorm-looking buildings that is unlike any other college I have been to. It seems more like a state park than a university; if I had more time I would hike or run here. Save something for next time, Megan, I remind myself, and head back in the direction of the airport. My outdoor nature does not lend itself to jet setting; but I am making the best of it.

Smith College

Dorms?

Smith College pond

I drive to Hartford, Connecticut, which is about 45 minutes away. I am amazed that I have travelled to 4 states within 24 hours, and still will be travelling to another. I wish I had more time to explore New England, but I feel I have gotten a sense of what it is like there. My flight leaves around 5pm and gets in to Norfolk, Virginia around 9:30pm. After pricing Uber and rental cars, I decide it is more economical to rent a car and do so.

Coworkers from Virginia have warned me ahead of time that, much like other cities, areas can become dangerous quickly if you do not know where you are going. My plan is to drive to my hotel, a coastal front Best Western only 9 miles from the airport, quickly and maybe even catch the end of some bad reality television. My reality is not that simple.

I encounter the coldest weather of the trip so far (a bustling 12 degrees, with wind, which is simply the death of me). My GPS does not pick up the hotel, and I end up driving around aimlessly while trying to get coherent directions out of the young Best Western concierge. My phone battery is threatening to die, and with sleep deprivation, unfamiliarity with my surroundings, unclear directions, and freezing weather I am beginning to think this is a test of my mindfulness practice. I try hard to stay present and breath, and eventually make it to the hotel around 11:30pm, with approximately 5% battery left on my phone. The front desk folks tell me they aren’t surprised my GPS didn’t work around here, as we are close to 5 military bases (which seems to imply that some governmental Big Brother would block my service? Creeps me out). I can’t see the coast in the darkness, and have no patience to try to find anything other than a bed quickly.

Vermont and Massachusetts, Tuesday Jan 6

At the interview in Vermont I ironically met several Californians, including Mags, a mutual friend of Katie’s, a friend from a former practicum who I was planning to stay with that night. After the interview, I ran back to the Super 8 to change out of my suit and hit the road for Massachusetts. It was snowing the entire day, and colder than the day prior (about 15 degrees, which “feels like 2,” according to the news, which I guess is a “thing” out here). I was sure to drive slowly through the mountain range between VT and MH. I passed Manchester, NH, a sizeable city, which looks worth returning to- beautiful brick buildings, a river running through a snow filled city with the closest thing to skyscrapers I’d seen since leaving Oakland.

I arrived in MA early (around 5pm, I was meeting my friend Katie at 7pm), and found a beer spot in the town of Mancester. I again had an amazing stout (this area is doing those dark beers well!) and buffalo chicken tenders. I began to recognize how the internship process was going to be affecting my diet and overall health, and made an executive decision not to worry about that for the moment. I’d rather drink stout. My server was a spitfire elderly lady with a heavy MA accent who had no idea where Northampton was or anything else about the VA there. The men in the bar were mostly white and middle aged and talking about cars and sports in their MA accents as well.

Katie and I met up at her apartment in Worcester (which I am told is one of the largest cities in MA other than Boston) and then headed out to meet Mags, the guy I had met at the interview earlier, at a restaurant called Cracker Barrel about 45 mins away. If you ever visit the East Coast and have the opportunity to visit Cracker Barrel, do it. The down-home, country restaurant and kitschy store provided me with mac n’ cheese with broccoli and blackberry cobbler (remember my decision from earlier?). In that cold?!? YUM. Mags and I lamented about the ills of the internship process and dissected the staff and interns we had met that day (“wasn’t that weird?”). We also discussed the impact this process has had on us financially and socially. It felt nice to be with two people who understood the complexities and difficulties of the process (Katie is currently on internship in MA) and simply let off steam.

We went back to Katie’s and I attempted unsuccessfully to crash on her couch. Jet lag, excitement, and long working hours were beginning to get to me. Katie picked up our pal Matt, also in town for an interview, around midnight. He and I slept side by side on the couch and floor respectively, just two poor students ready to interview.

New Hampshire/Vermont, Monday Jan 5

My first in-person interview was scheduled at the VA in White River Junction, Vermont. WRJ has a population of 2,000 people. Having grown up in small town of Sonoma, California (population 10,000), I thought that I was adequately prepared to deal with rural towns. However, WRJ proved to be even more rural than I had imagined.

I flew out of SFO at 10pm on Sunday, January 4. From there I had a layover in Philly and then flew in to Manchester, New Hampshire where I arrived at 8:55am on Monday morning and rented a car to drive the 90 miles into WRJ. The first thing I noticed was the cold. Coming out of the terminal, I could immediately feel glimpses of what became the coldest weather this Californian had ever been exposed to. A ripe 15 degrees, Vermont had just seen snow the day prior.

Driving along Interstate 64W from New Hampshire to Vermont, I weaved through snowcapped, tree-and-river-lined highways and was struck by how little traffic there was. The second least populated state in the nation, Vermont is not known for its excitement (I later learned from one of the current interns that bars close at 9pm in WRJ). I was also confused by how quickly New Hampshire became Vermont. I later learned that in the Tri-State area, and in White River Junction specifically, the two states are somewhat interchangeable despite major cultural differences (Vermont is a liberal state, New Hampshire more conservative and with more wealth).

Scenery along the drive

Scenery along the drive

I arrived at my Super 8 motel around 11am to find that it was in eyesight of the VA where I was interviewing the following day. I decided to take a shower and rest a bit before venturing out to the sites recommended by the training director in his email to us.

VA in White River Junction, VT- view from the hotel

By 1pm I had mapped out my route, and began to embark on some New England sightseeing. I decided to check out the town of Hanford, NH, home of Dartmouth College, because part of the internship involves working with college students on this campus. Strolling the main street of the small college town, I could sense the wealth of its J Crew and Northface-wearing population. The actual campus was stunningly beautiful, with old brick buildings. I stopped in to the main arts center, Hood Hall, where I de-robed a bit and sat down to text friends while listening to a student practice piano and singing upstairs. I saw advertisements for Kushner plays and Dartmouth’s “American Idol” competition. I saw indie artist kids sipping lattes and reading the newspaper.

Central Dartmouth campus

Chapel on Dartmouth campus

Snowed over tennis courts

Arts center, Dartmouth

After leaving Hanford I stopped by Quechee Gorge, a stunning deep ravine in the middle of a snow-filled forest. The young woman working there warned me that the trail was “icy” and to make sure I used the railings. I ventured down the path, weaving through the trees about 30 mins (more of a triumph given the icy pathway and snow, which sunk my shoes down below the earth. I finally came to a beautiful clearing, where I looked down about 200 feet to the river running beneath.

Quechee Gorge hike

Finally made it to the water!

I began to get hungry, but decided to drive another 10 miles or so to Woodstock, the “quintessential New England town” as described in the application materials. Indeed it was, with small red bridges clearing little rivers cutting through the snow, tiny shops with local artistry, and railroad tracks along the side of the road.

Eventually I made it back to WRJ, where I found a brewery around 5pm. When I entered, about 10 men ages 30-65 or so stood around the bar talking sports while young women, ages 20-30 served them beer. I grabbed a flight and had an amazing coffee stout. I also ate something whose name I can’t quite wrap my head around (cock-a-doodle, or something) which resembled chicken pot pie but had a puff pastry on top. I noticed how the men all knew the bartenders and one another, and no one other than the servers interacted with me (and even that was a bit sparse). I felt oddly at home, as this place somewhat resembled Sonoma without the sun.

 

Coffee stout on the far right

How to Launch a Career Without Going Mad

I was recently encouraged to revisit my blog in an effort to chronicle the wild adventure I am about to embark on. 

Beginning January 4^th, I will be traveling across the US and back several times in pursuit of a pre-doctoral internship in clinical psychology. I will be participating in 12 in-person interviews and one phone interview, in 8 different states over the course of 4 weeks. 

This is an incredibly exciting, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I am incredibly grateful for (and, admittedly, anxious about).  If all goes well, I will start a yearlong internship, the final step in my 5-year graduate school program, in one of these places beginning in June or July. I will be traveling to the following places, in this order:

White River Junction, Vermont 

Leeds, Massachusetts 

Hampton, Virginia

Mountain Home, Tennessee

Los Angeles, California

Bedford, Massachusetts

Los Angeles, California

Dallas, Texas

Northport, New York 

Montrose, New York

Honolulu, Hawaii

Along the way, I will be reconnecting with cherished friends, many of whom I haven't seen in quite some time, across the country. I will also be exploring new territory unfamiliar to me (I have never been to New England!) 

Finding the Hope Beyond the Sadness

"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." 

-Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

Often when I first tell people that I am a therapist, their initial response is to ask "Oh my GOD, are you analyzing me right now?!" This is a common question that many of us therapists are accustomed to answering, and have scripted responses for. I tend to cater my response to my audience, ranging from the straight forward, "No, I don't do that when I'm off shift," to the flippant "If you want me to analyze you, you're gonna have to pay me at least $150 an hour" (I actually picked that one up from a professor).

Once the person is comfortable, this question is generally followed by a string of inquiries that usually indicate the person's overall attitude toward mental health services, or their own personal experience with them. On a number of occasions I have been asked "Isn't that SUCH sad and heavy work? How do you NOT take that home with you?"

Although I understand where it comes from, I always find this question amusing. It's not to say that the work that therapists do is not, at times, sad and heavy. And I would be lying if I said that I NEVER take my work home with me. When you are working with people in just about any capacity, I'd say there is a strong likelihood that at some point you will take your work home with you (I am recalling seeing the best and worst of humanity while working as a server in a restaurant throughout college. There were certainly days where I took that work home with me as well).

The reason this question is amusing to me is because it misses the very essence of what I am so fortunate to call my life's work: the hope that is such a central part of what I do. Many people- not all, but many- come to therapy because they are suffering, and they want to feel better. Those that do not come for that reason often discover it once they are invested. And it is our job as therapists to help clients become invested when they are not, and to find the hope when it has been lost.

It is an immense privilege to witness a person who has lost hope find it again. I have had clients tell me that therapy is their church, a place of spirituality and safety. I find comments like these incredibly moving, and I take these experiences with me when I go home just as often as I take the tough stuff. Yes, it takes tolerating the heaviness of pain in order to get to that place- and sometimes we never do- but when hope is restored, it is one of the most beautiful and moving experiences in life.

The alcoholic who gets clean, the mother who reunites with her child, the young woman who overcomes an eating disorder- these are the experiences that keep us doing what we do. It is incredibly humbling on days where your own life feels less than desirable to watch others bravely face their biggest challenges. I have often thought to myself, if they can do it, so can I. I am constantly inspired by this work.

And so, I answer that question here with a smile: "Yes, it can be sad & heavy work, and sometimes I DO take it home with me. And I am so, SO grateful to be able to do it."

The Grass is Always Greener: Or Is It?

When I was in undergrad, a good friend of mine met the love of her life and married him shortly thereafter. Over the years I watched in admiration as they moved around the country, got pregnant, and bought their first house together. She also managed to achieve her Master's degree in that time, and even started her own business. Meanwhile, I struggled to find a consistent partner, a career path, and to live in anything beyond a studio apartment. While it appeared to the outside world that I was a free, spontaneous, single woman (which was partly true), the reality was that a lot of the time I felt lonely and confused.

And then, within months, my friend's relationship fell apart and they were divorced. Suddenly the adult lifestyle that they were living didn't seem so desirable anymore. Real issues such as how to pay the house payment, divide custody, and date again entered the forefront. I found myself grateful to be in the ambiguous stage of life that I was in.

In many late night conversations, this friend and I shared with one another how we had always admired the other- and still did- for the qualities that we felt we ourselves lacked. We also identified how very similar we are in many ways. We grew closer as we struggled to find our footing through life's unbeaten path. At one point I even jokingly said to her "Well, I guess now we're both in the same place in life- single & dating in this crazy world!" We had a good laugh.

It's striking to me how often we get caught up in what we don't have, what we lack- or what others do have. Perhaps this is just part of the human condition. Perhaps this is what draws us to friends and partners- sensing that they somehow possess the magical qualities that we are short of. When I find myself engaging in this kind of thinking, I try to remind myself of the things that I am grateful for, and the qualities that I appreciate about myself. We are, at the end of the day, uniquely individual- so why not try to embrace it?

Always we hope
someone else has the answer.
Some other place will be better,
some other time it will all turn out.

This is it.
No one else has the answer.
No other place will be better,
and it has already turned out.

-Lao-Tzu