I’ve been tasked, in many ways, to be more than who I am—to give and explore more than my creative side has been prompted to going forward. It’s odd, in that I’m normally an expressive, journal-scribing, idea-sojurner who can sit on wayside and finalize 18 different ideas or courses of action that lead toward something wonderful. But to be told, “I would like more from you” is sort of yelling at the stars to twinkle brighter; to order the tides to crash louder; for the night to din quietier.
I am within myself on things, and outside on others. I don’t dance like I should.
Carmela is a psychiatrist for adolescents entering new school settings( she helps them absorb their new surroundings, become amalgamated with their classes and schedule, etc.) She also works with parents on developing ways to help their children navigate any rough waters that might come up. She’s my friend, and we talk about everything, but lately we have hit a snag. I think I might view my insecurities or assert myself at removing them at a slower pace than others. Carmela has all the answers, but she can’t help me(even though she knows about them more than almost anyone). It’s unethical for her to counsel her friends.
I have a name.