after a nine-year career in elementary education and a five-year stopover as an apple computer sales representative. i took a leap into graduate school, enrolling in psychology at the university of kentucky. i spent seven years learning to become a psychologist. i had no idea that my training would lead me to a sixteen-year career at the university of dayton counseling center. i promised the director i would stay at least two years but what the university had to offer was irresistible.
as a neophyte, i leaned toward trying to fix students' problems, which didn't work as well as i had hoped. i had an excellent supervisor who served as a role model, confidante, critiquer, and listener. even after our supervisory relationship ended, she was available to counsel as a colleague and friend, guiding me to become a seasoned psychotherapist.
just as our roles changed, so did my role as therapist. my students didn't need a problem fixer, they needed to develop tools and skills to make more healthy decisions and to manage the situations of life more effectively. although i was not one of those who constantly asked, "how do you feel about that", i realized the absolute importance of listening.... listening to the words, the eyes, the hands, and the heart. of course, i played several assigned roles such as parent, advocate, container of secrets, and sounding board. but as the students progressed in their therapy, many of them accepted me as a guide. i refused, except in emergencies, to tell my students what choices they should make. instead, i attempted to guide them into self-empowerment... learning to make their own healthy choices.
i have recalled many times those people who guided me in adulthood; people who resisted the urge to fix my situation in order to hear me out... listen... understand. but one person rises to the top of the list. that person is grandma hughes.
grandma lived next door to us when i was born. she attended my father's church and participated actively in the education and nurturing of children. she and her husband mond babysit us, was present at our birthdays, and cheered us on in our childhood pursuits.
what made grandma unique to me was the manner in which she conversed with me. even as a kid, she assumed the role of guide. of course she scolded me at times, but her nature was to see me as a person with my own thoughts, feelings, desires, and aspirations. and she wanted to know those things into order to know me. i could relate many, many stories that would illustrate her style. perhaps one in particular will suffice.
i had just told my mom that i attended a movie with a college friend. as understanding as she was in most circumstances, she couldn't at that time wrap her mind around the fact that i broke one of the church rules. the conflict abruptly ended when i walked out of the house and headed in my car back to college. passing by grandma's house, i found myself turning into the driveway, knocking on the door, and falling into one of her rocking chairs sobbing. she waited until i gained composure. and then she said, "steve, what's wrong? you can tell me anything.".
i told her my side of the story and vented my anger and frustration. she offered her support, not necessarily for what i did, but for expressing how i felt. she really wanted to know. and then she asked me a question that i will never forget... "steve, what does your heart tell you?"
i started to cry again because her question was exactly what i needed to hear. i remember feeling confused as thought and feelings swirled around and around. i didn't have an answer.
as we continued our conversation, i began to realize that her words guided me into an area of confidence and self-responsibility. she told me the importance of listening to and following the voice of god. and she told me to follow my heart.
grandma still guides me... everyday. her words still motivate me to be the best stephen i know to be. went in doubt, i can hear her whisper, "steve, follow your heart!". she has believed in me for 58 years.
i was well educated in school, mentored as i developed into a psychologist, and went to beaucoup workshops to enhance my skills. but i must give credit to my grandma hughes as my primary teacher in becoming a psychologist... in becoming a person for whom she would be proud.
fyi, she was not a blood relative... only a woman who made loving me a priority in her life.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
Camp meeting
i was a regular at the central ohio campgrounds from the time i was 0.8 years old until an adult in my late 20's. my experiences there have made several entries into my list of 'memories worth remembering'. i will share a few today.
my parents were active participants on many levels, but my earliest memory was that my dad ran the main dining hall. as a kid, i would go in the backdoor into the kitchen to observe people baking, frying, cutting cake, preparing various jello combos... getting ready for the next meal. rev. leonard was cooking away, mrs. flack and mrs pusey worked on the salads, various teens were preparing the food lines, and i made my rounds talking to them, listening to them, and enjoying the attention, especially of the teenagers. then the doors were open and people joined one of two lines to choose their food cafeteria style. i would stand behind the line servers, watching the people go by and waving at/ flirting with the people i knew. this was one of several experiences that taught me that what goes on behind the scenes are valuable, useful, and quite fascinating. doing service does not always come with gratitude, but it does bring a sense of pride and joy.
boys camp was both a wonderful time and a big challenge. i loved making crafts, singing silly songs led by martha vogel and rev. marsh, and listening to the speaker for the week. i abhorred the sports, however, mostly because i didn't do well. baseball was the main sport, and i sucked as confirmed by being relegated to the nether regions of left field. with my incompetence came jabs from my dorm mates, calling me sissy. after all, even at an early age, boys seem to crave the opportunity to distinguished the 'real' men from the 'fake' ones. rather than fighting back, i would play myself into the role. at night when i was called sissy, i would lay in bed, kicking my legs up and down to turn the name-calling into laughter. my ploy was clever and it worked. after all, when boys can't get under your skin, they tend to move on to more vulnerable victims. i learned that fighting back with my brain and sense of humor was the most effective tools i had. and i used them well. i determined to have fun in spite of the taunting. after all, it was boys' camp!!
teen camp was among other things, one big hormonal festival. guys and gals would begin on monday, sizing up each other and gathering the courage to ask someone out. even more tense was determining the right outfit, figuring out how/when to hold hands, find a shadowed spot between the cabins to steal a kiss, and learning how to hold a decent conversation. as was always the case in these situations, i tried my best to act the part. knowing i was much more attracted to the guys, i had to develop a keen sense of observation to determine how to act interested in the girls. what i had going for me was a natural way of making female friends, of which i had plenty. but taking it to a romantic attraction didn't happen, so my romantic 'moves' were mechanical and well-rehearsed in my mind. more spontaneous was my ability to relate to women, speaking their language and understanding to a significant degree their point of view. for that i am grateful.
at 14 years old, i was a counselor for boys' camp. my duties were to lead, direct, and hold accountable a group of ten 4th, 5th, and 6th graders. i relished the challenge being like a big brother to them. my lack of sporting skill was irrelevant because they knew how to play. a daily contest held by the camp nurses pitted cabin against cabin for the cleanest room and the most creative room decorations. those boys were guinea pigs in a young teen's experiment with the challenges of learning to balance fun with setting boundaries for acceptable behavior. thanks to them! the camp counselor experience was significant in my decision to become an elementary school teacher. and for the most part, i enjoyed that profession and did a fine job at it.
one week at junior high camp, however, stands out in my mind above all other camp weeks. honestly, it was a nightmare. the week started out just fine until rumors about me being gay were circulating. perhaps i gave away some part of my secret due to the fear on my face when i heard the rumors. i heard the words 'sissy' and 'girl' rather than 'steve' from a group of fellow campers who were out to find a scapegoat. they succeeded in their desire to intimidate me, but thankfully, they had more interest in pursuing their own athletic and romantic opportunities... except for two of them. they made a game out of sneaking up on me, chasing me, and threatening me with a swirly as punishment for being sissified. i spent the majority of the week terrorized by the act of two guys holding me upside-down, sticking my head in a toilet, and flushing it to make my hair swirl like the top of a dairy queen ice cream cone. eventually they suceeding in spite of my screams for help. they quickly left the bathroom, leaving me wet, smelly, and humiliated. from this experience, i formulated a defense that helped me through the rest of my growing up years.
my parents were active participants on many levels, but my earliest memory was that my dad ran the main dining hall. as a kid, i would go in the backdoor into the kitchen to observe people baking, frying, cutting cake, preparing various jello combos... getting ready for the next meal. rev. leonard was cooking away, mrs. flack and mrs pusey worked on the salads, various teens were preparing the food lines, and i made my rounds talking to them, listening to them, and enjoying the attention, especially of the teenagers. then the doors were open and people joined one of two lines to choose their food cafeteria style. i would stand behind the line servers, watching the people go by and waving at/ flirting with the people i knew. this was one of several experiences that taught me that what goes on behind the scenes are valuable, useful, and quite fascinating. doing service does not always come with gratitude, but it does bring a sense of pride and joy.
boys camp was both a wonderful time and a big challenge. i loved making crafts, singing silly songs led by martha vogel and rev. marsh, and listening to the speaker for the week. i abhorred the sports, however, mostly because i didn't do well. baseball was the main sport, and i sucked as confirmed by being relegated to the nether regions of left field. with my incompetence came jabs from my dorm mates, calling me sissy. after all, even at an early age, boys seem to crave the opportunity to distinguished the 'real' men from the 'fake' ones. rather than fighting back, i would play myself into the role. at night when i was called sissy, i would lay in bed, kicking my legs up and down to turn the name-calling into laughter. my ploy was clever and it worked. after all, when boys can't get under your skin, they tend to move on to more vulnerable victims. i learned that fighting back with my brain and sense of humor was the most effective tools i had. and i used them well. i determined to have fun in spite of the taunting. after all, it was boys' camp!!
teen camp was among other things, one big hormonal festival. guys and gals would begin on monday, sizing up each other and gathering the courage to ask someone out. even more tense was determining the right outfit, figuring out how/when to hold hands, find a shadowed spot between the cabins to steal a kiss, and learning how to hold a decent conversation. as was always the case in these situations, i tried my best to act the part. knowing i was much more attracted to the guys, i had to develop a keen sense of observation to determine how to act interested in the girls. what i had going for me was a natural way of making female friends, of which i had plenty. but taking it to a romantic attraction didn't happen, so my romantic 'moves' were mechanical and well-rehearsed in my mind. more spontaneous was my ability to relate to women, speaking their language and understanding to a significant degree their point of view. for that i am grateful.
at 14 years old, i was a counselor for boys' camp. my duties were to lead, direct, and hold accountable a group of ten 4th, 5th, and 6th graders. i relished the challenge being like a big brother to them. my lack of sporting skill was irrelevant because they knew how to play. a daily contest held by the camp nurses pitted cabin against cabin for the cleanest room and the most creative room decorations. those boys were guinea pigs in a young teen's experiment with the challenges of learning to balance fun with setting boundaries for acceptable behavior. thanks to them! the camp counselor experience was significant in my decision to become an elementary school teacher. and for the most part, i enjoyed that profession and did a fine job at it.
one week at junior high camp, however, stands out in my mind above all other camp weeks. honestly, it was a nightmare. the week started out just fine until rumors about me being gay were circulating. perhaps i gave away some part of my secret due to the fear on my face when i heard the rumors. i heard the words 'sissy' and 'girl' rather than 'steve' from a group of fellow campers who were out to find a scapegoat. they succeeded in their desire to intimidate me, but thankfully, they had more interest in pursuing their own athletic and romantic opportunities... except for two of them. they made a game out of sneaking up on me, chasing me, and threatening me with a swirly as punishment for being sissified. i spent the majority of the week terrorized by the act of two guys holding me upside-down, sticking my head in a toilet, and flushing it to make my hair swirl like the top of a dairy queen ice cream cone. eventually they suceeding in spite of my screams for help. they quickly left the bathroom, leaving me wet, smelly, and humiliated. from this experience, i formulated a defense that helped me through the rest of my growing up years.
- first, i decided to excel in music. thanks to a teacher who understood me, my ability to play the piano flourished.
- second, i surrounded myself with people who would not try to hurt me. i showered attention on the old folks at church, i involved myself in the youth group, and i continued to make friends mostly with girls.
- third, i made the decision to view guys, particularly at school, as the enemy. i made very little effort to make friends. it just wasn't worth the risk. at school, i was a loner... just the way i wanted.
- fourth, i faked it. i dated girls. i held hands with them at church. i tried my best to have a girlfriend most of the time. i am not sure how much i fooled other people, but believing i succeeded was good enough for me.
Monday, November 5, 2012
In the still of the night
it's 3am as i begin this post. the house is quiet except for a quiet, introspective music playing softly. this is treasured time.
1. solitude is sacred. very different than being alone, solitude is only found in contentment and inner peace.
2. listening is sacred. as i commune with my thoughts, i find who i am. there is nothing more intimate than self-knowledge and self-acceptance.
3. lights are sacred. a candle is burning and the landscape lights cast a glow on our patio setting a surreal and ethereal mood. low lighting invites me to stay in the present, helping me to avoid the 'what its' and trio of wouldas/shouldas/couldas of a wandering mind.
4. music is sacred. putting words and music together is a magical work of love. it seems that music expresses those thoughts and feelings that two minutes ago had no words. one certain phrase captures the essence of something personal and real.
5. the senses are sacred. the five senses... actually the six senses invite thoughts, evoke emotions, and rouses the body into alive-ness. sometimes i ask a litany of questions... what do i..
see
hear
smell
feel
taste
and intuit.
intuition connects the dots. it molds the other senses into a beautiful sculpture of deeply-felt knowing. by combining experiences, memories, hunches, and that mystical energy, intuition distinguishes what is real from what is fear.
6. life is sacred. it's now been over 5 years since my body traded health for a hidden illness, feelings of dread, and intense pain. i reject the idea that there is some 'purpose' for this transformation. but i embrace what my body has taught me. life cannot be lived in the past or in the future; both are only abstractions. living in the present is vital to feeling alive. folks, i only have the present. nothing else matters. material things are just things, nothing more. only love and relationships are real.
7. choices are sacred. i must take responsibility for my choices, not out of obligation but out of dignity, respect, and love. of all the choices that i make, one stands out as most important. steve jobs and randy pausch have imprinted in me the choice to live as if i am going to die as a top priority. every day brings constant pain, but it also brings opportunities to make this day unique. just as the sun rises, so does my anticipation of what choices i can make to be ok with myself and with those i love.
this song speaks to that notion:
1. solitude is sacred. very different than being alone, solitude is only found in contentment and inner peace.
2. listening is sacred. as i commune with my thoughts, i find who i am. there is nothing more intimate than self-knowledge and self-acceptance.
3. lights are sacred. a candle is burning and the landscape lights cast a glow on our patio setting a surreal and ethereal mood. low lighting invites me to stay in the present, helping me to avoid the 'what its' and trio of wouldas/shouldas/couldas of a wandering mind.
4. music is sacred. putting words and music together is a magical work of love. it seems that music expresses those thoughts and feelings that two minutes ago had no words. one certain phrase captures the essence of something personal and real.
5. the senses are sacred. the five senses... actually the six senses invite thoughts, evoke emotions, and rouses the body into alive-ness. sometimes i ask a litany of questions... what do i..
see
hear
smell
feel
taste
and intuit.
intuition connects the dots. it molds the other senses into a beautiful sculpture of deeply-felt knowing. by combining experiences, memories, hunches, and that mystical energy, intuition distinguishes what is real from what is fear.
6. life is sacred. it's now been over 5 years since my body traded health for a hidden illness, feelings of dread, and intense pain. i reject the idea that there is some 'purpose' for this transformation. but i embrace what my body has taught me. life cannot be lived in the past or in the future; both are only abstractions. living in the present is vital to feeling alive. folks, i only have the present. nothing else matters. material things are just things, nothing more. only love and relationships are real.
7. choices are sacred. i must take responsibility for my choices, not out of obligation but out of dignity, respect, and love. of all the choices that i make, one stands out as most important. steve jobs and randy pausch have imprinted in me the choice to live as if i am going to die as a top priority. every day brings constant pain, but it also brings opportunities to make this day unique. just as the sun rises, so does my anticipation of what choices i can make to be ok with myself and with those i love.
this song speaks to that notion:
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