Montana de Oro State Park
I recently moved from one side of town to the other. The students had invaded with their enthusiasm and red cups. Lounge chairs on the roof. The week before I sold my house, I heard sawing and hammering coming from the other side of the fence. Entrepreneurial, visionary, resourceful—my next door neighbors were building a beer pong table in their backyard.
Whew. I made it out of there in the nick of time.
For months, I’d anticipated 
missing my house with all the remodeling I’d done. I’d tiled the bathroom myself, put in wood flooring, a gas fireplace, raised beds in the garden, new windows. Twice I painted the outside of the house. It was a labor of love, but still, there’s a reason it’s called sweat equity.
Change is inevitable and what we can’t imagine at one point in our lives gradually becomes the new norm. Yes, I miss that house, but it was time to move on.
At a recent book group discussing my novel Thin Places, one woman asked: “Do you identify as a writer?”
“I have a hard time thinking about myself as an adult,” I said. It’s an amusing rejoinder I’ve used on numerous occasions, but entirely sidesteps the question.
It reminded me of years ago as a fledging psychology intern musing with my classmates about our new role as therapists. My clients, with little prompting, readily revealed the most intimate details about their lives—childhood trauma, family secrets, their kinky–and pedestrian–sex lives.
“You take off your clothes in the doctor’s office, don’t you?” This from one of my fellow classmates.
“It’s not the same,” I said. But it is.
We step into roles: A new job. A marriage. A spouse dies and we’re suddenly a widow. The first time I uttered the phrase, my son, I stumbled over the words and looked behind me. As if those words belonged to someone else.
I used to be a psychologist. Now I’m a writer.
Am I a writer because I’ve published a book? Does it have to be a best-seller before I think of myself as a writer? Do I have to write a second book before I’m really a writer?
Obviously, the performing of the role plays only a small part in our identity as adults or parents or doctors. Or writers.
Time helps us feel more comfortable in a new role. If I was initially surprised as a psychology intern that my clients were eager to reveal their deepest darkest secrets, in time, I became accustomed to their desire to be vulnerable with someone who was listening with deep intention.
Gentoo Penguin in Antarctica
Practice helps even more. Early on, I lacked anything but the most basic of skills—and confidence. My questions were awkward, poorly timed, sometimes insensitive. In clinical work—and writing—there’s a steep learning curve and then continual improvements along the way. I still remember my first client, a single parent struggling with children, a job, not enough money. Even Picasso had a first painting, but still, I wish I could tell her I’m sorry.
Time and practice, however, are not enough. Change can be tricky. Don’t delay taking on that new passion as your own. I say: Be bold. Be daring. Be yourself.
Do I feel entitled to claim I’m a writer?
Sure. I guess. Absolutely.
Very well said! You are a writer & you are bold. You are a good example of one willing to let go of a home that you worked on but a home that wasn’t working for you any more.
Thanks Lynda. And I’m inspired as well by all those creative, bold women that are our Sierra Sisters!
Elie- you are indeed a writer – artist! You write your thoughts and musings in a way that paint pictures that I identify with and move me. Bravo!
Thanks Lia! I put my thoughts out there and I never know… I’m grateful for your response.
I loved reading this. Your timing here was impeccable, and your questions reflected the wisdom gained throughout your career as a therapist. It seems to me the deep intention, the emotional artistry, you brought as a listener in that context, is serving you well as a writer. Sure. I guess. Absolutely!
I’ve been invited to quite a few book groups for a discussion about Thin Places. With the feedback from so many readers, I’m now seeing how much the writing of my novel was influenced by my career as a psychologist. It makes me even more grateful for all those hours spent with clients in meaningful conversation.
Softly, deftly told — change is the only constant, and we learn as we go. — Marvin
Change and acceptance of the impermanence of life.
( I recognize the picture!)
Are you a writer???!!!???!!! See above. Nuff said. (And btw, a good friend, consensus-builder, hiker, home-remodeler, and traveler!)
:-)!
Dear Elie,
Great thoughts. It gave me a lot of inspiration on moving on to other things with confidence.
You are a very good writer and put in words that I can understand. Keep writing!
Hugs,
Shirley
Thanks so much Shirley!
Good Morning my friend – hiker, adventure seeker and yes, writer! I loved reading this latest story with my first cup of coffee. I also read the Sequoia Sinkhole posting – again!
Such pleasant and fun reading. See you on the trails!
I have been meaning to get in touch for a while. I read Thin Places and was impressed with how well you caught the spirit of the university and of the students. Also of the counseling staff. Very familiar to me. Congratulations!
I am now writing The StoriesWork Saga, the history and contribution of StoriesWork, the non-profit I founded. I am doing it by writing segments every few days and posting them on the StoriesWork Facebook Page. Whoever wishes can follow this work being built, one short piece at a time. I find it an intriguing way to write – a chance to think about how to proceed from one segment to the next. I already have 12 segments, including folk stories and graphics. Please take a look. It would be great to have your comments. (Go to FaceBook and search for StoriesWork.)
Good luck in your new home!
All the best,
Lenora
Dear Elie,
Can’t be more beautiful, eloquent and evocative! Especially with the topics of change and transitions! I so love reading your posts! You showed that part of you and us that made us connect with one another and the universe more deeply!
Thank you so much for sharing more of yourself even when you’re not my boss anymore!!!
Love you dearly,
Lina