A Little Bitter Sweet

I'm officially a provisional psychologist.

In high school, I had thought I wanted to be a psychologist or a lawyer. Then after my undergrad, I travelled and started to question if more formal schooling was for me at that time. I felt lost and confused about my priorities and ambitions in life, and then I stumbled into yoga. That eventually took on a life of its own. I made a life as a yoga instructor and really enjoyed that until something in me started to feel a call for something else. Eventually, I was jumping through the hoops to take a master's in counselling psychology program. It started September 12th, 2015.

It was going to be a big commitment; it was through an American university with a satellite program in Nelson for my cohort. That meant a trip to Nelson (4 hrs. from home) every month, sometimes twice a month for years. My fiancé was concerned about the drive and the time commitment. And I think a little about how our lives would unfold with this new endeavor of mine, but we were ready to make it happen. I was all in… after I missed the first weekend of classes for my wedding that was!

Only that's not how it played out. Because 26 days before what was to be our wedding day and the start of school, my 29-year-old, healthy, ambitious, vibrant fiancé died suddenly. My life as I knew it was over. We'd been friends since grade 9, and together in some capacity since grade 10 or 11, I can't even remember. We had had countless breakups and makeups and plenty of drama, yet through it all, there was always a connection. Eventually, we grew up and chose to step into the relationship for real, no version of my future existed without him. As everything fell apart, I clung to the hopes that school would be my path forward. I thought maybe I could channel my energy into that and build a version of myself as I went. I was determined to go for the first weekend of classes, despite the worried looks and gentle 'are you sures' from loved ones I was going. Having some wonderful friends, they came along for that first weekend. Of all the places to be on what was to be your wedding day but is not because your fiancé passed away, that was the best place I could have found myself, and those were the best people I could have been with.

I did make it to class. There were only about 15 people in the group, and I don't think I said a word all weekend, but I'm fairly sure I made it to each of the days. It is all very vague now. Looking back, I can't imagine I made a great impression for a future therapist. I made it to one or two more weekends, two more, I think. We were just settling in for lecture when the guy next to me asked about the paper that was due. I had no idea what he was talking about, and he kept going on all about how we'd talked about it, last class. No recollection, none. I realized as he spoke I didn't remember anything from the previous weekends. Lecture began, and tears started streaming down my face. It was done. I couldn't do it anymore and knew this was one more thing I'd have to give up. As the professor lectured on about the importance of self-awareness with "Know They Self" written on the board, I could not hide from myself anymore. I was that self-aware; I was aware enough to know that it was time to say goodbye to this dream too. Just before we went for dinner break, I told the class I wouldn't be back, packed up my things and gave up on being a therapist.

Fast forward a year and a half, and I'd moved from Kelowna to Fort McMurray. I needed to go where I could fall apart. Where no one knew me or loved me, where no one would really care. Having never been here before, I thought it seemed like a fine place for that. I packed what I could fit in my car, and me and my baby girl (my dog) Ollie headed way north in the middle of winter. Come summer, I found it in me to apply again. An online Canadian university this time. I was only minimally invested. I sent in my application letter without proofreading it and told myself if I get in, I'll do it but was also fairly fine with the idea of not getting in. Well, I was accepted, and classes started, and I didn't have my textbooks ordered. Needless to say, there were many tears and fears at the beginning, well, actually all the way through but definitely more at the start. And then eventually I'd completed a Masters. In B.C. that would mean clinical counsellor, as you need a Ph.D. to be a registered psychologist. In Alberta, however, you can become a registered psychologist with a Masters. So I had a big decision to make, would I move back to B.C. or make Alberta home and start the process of registering as a psychologist? Considering everything I had in my life at the time and the fact that I was so close, it only made sense to go for it.

The path here has been riddled with loss, pain, and setbacks. This version of my life only exists because another one doesn't.
The path here has also been filled with beauty, love, joy, freedom, and precious surprises. There are many people who can take a little and a few who can take a lot of credit for me getting to where I am, and I am grateful to them all.
To everyone doing their best with the cards they have been dealt, you inspire me to keep doing the best with mine.
Like Rene would say, you can still win with a 2-7.

With love