A Personal Reminder

The internet went down today as I sat in an upstairs nook of the library at the college where I got my undergraduate degree. I've been coming here every Wednesday this semester. I bring my two kids along and while I pour over school texts, they pour over picture books, peg boards with rubber bands, math cubes and cooperative board games. We camp out in the curriculum room for most of the day next to the large windows that peer out upon the mossy forrest and the looming grayness.

At home we have a house rule that computers are not open, or used for very long, when then kids are awake. We are trying our best to be present and not have our relationships mitigated by technology. So my graduate schoolwork is shoved tightly into the hours after their bedtime and weekends when they are with their dad. Aside from these few precious study hours on Wednesdays, our routine is filled with books and cooking, playing dress up and wizardry, chasing chickens, wandering through the woods, and reading in the grass.

But I find that I am increasingly preoccupied and less able to be present. The heaviness of expectations, the call of the laptop, or the textbook, takes me, even subconsciously, from the moments that make my life worth living. In the hours allotted, I am franticly trying to complete assignments, research internships, read the extra material that will help me recontextualize all of the "mainstream" counseling psychology texts through a radical ecopsychological lens. But I carry the stress of it in every minute, and every interaction of the day.

And then the internet went down.

I pressed refresh over and over again, to no avail. It was down for the count.

And I felt a moment of terror. My schedule upheaved from it's fragile balance. I wracked by brain to come up with an alternate location to get my work done for the day. One that would contain and entertain my children and allow me space to get enough work done to alleviate some of this pressure from my chest and shoulders.

And then suddenly I remembered.

I remembered what it actually is that I am doing. Why I am doing this program at all. Why I believe in the path that I am on and the work I am supposed to do in the world.

Here I am studying to be a therapist, looking to help people find healing from trauma and suffering, stress and addiction and disconnection, and I have lost my own balance in the process. It doesn't matter how many hours of the week I go to the woods if I am spending that time feeling guilty about how I should be drafting my response to the psychopathology assignment. If I keep my computer closed when my kids are around but find my patience with them short because I am carrying the weight of worry about my schoolwork and the inadequacy of hours in the day.

So today, when the internet went down I packed up my laptop, and my books and we went home to spend those last Spring hours of daylight playing make-believe in the backyard. I saw the sunset over the evergreens and let the kids play out their game until past dark when they decided to come inside on their own. Dinner was late, as was bedtime. And I never got that work done that I "should have" earlier. But somehow it all makes more sense than it did when I was on schedule.