The Importance of Singing

As I sit listening to Ms. Ella Fitzgerald with Louie Armstrong on this cloudy Southern California song, I'm reminded of the love I had for singing. Strike that, have for singing. The first time I ever sang in front of a crowd it was at my 6th graduation. Then I was considered "the second best singer" by the "first best singer" in the school. She thought she was the best because she could hit Mariah Carey notes. Listen sister, hitting the notes does not make you Queen Butterfly. But I digress. We sang "A Whole New World." Of course I had to be 'the boy part' because I had a lower voice. This was to be my lot in life: Alto. The supporting structure to said Sopranos.

When I left my elementary school, I left my school district. My parents placed me in a private Jr High School, where I was one of two Latinas. My school was about 90% white and the other Latina, a Cuban, was blonde hair and blue eyed. I was big nosed, brown hair, thick eye browed Chica. It was in Jr High, that I really began to enjoy singing. My music teacher then, Mrs. Melody Dewitt (yes that was her name, and our PE teacher was Mr. Ball, I Shit you not) had an amazing voice and had this flightiness to her that only music teachers can have. She gave me my first solo, which I BUTCHERED in front of a 1st grade class. I mean I got the melody, but apparently I forgot the lyrics. Afterwards, a little kid came up to me and said, while giggling "you messed up." Yeah you little jerk I know!

Music was the source of my sanity, the voice to my gothiness, and the sound of the depression I struggled through my entire 8th grade year. When I got to high school I made sure I had choir in every semester. It was by my senior year that I felt so comfortable with my peers and teachers (because I had known them for a million years) that I could do solos without an uncontrollable falsetto or messing up lyrics. I did everything I could involving singing: freshman choir, girls choir, chamber choir, praise team, musicals. If there was singing, I was gonna do it. My poor dad kept hoping I'd sign up for Calculus or get that Sports Letter for my jacket. Instead he got intermissions and songs sang in Latin. My fondest memories was practicing or ending up at Denny's after a musical. I don't miss that time, because high school did blow at times, but I look upon that time with such fondness that I hope my future children have the chance to do the same, with the same wholesomeness I did.

I was in the Bel Canto Choir at APU with a singing scholarship that gave you barely enough money to buy one semester of books and committed you to a year of bubbly Christian girls who sounded like Disney Princesses. I don't sound like a Disney Princess. It was in that first year of college that I lost my voice. My experience in this choir was not something I enjoyed, mostly because I was just 1 of 100 voices, and was struggling with my own issues with Faith. I didn't feel like belonged with any of the girls there. And being asked by random strangers about my "personal relationship with Jesus Christ" didn't help. Out of 100 girls, I clicked with about 3, and my one home skillet (with a voice that is Amaze-Balls) left. At the end of this Freshman year we were 'contractually obligated' as part of the scholarship to do a 2 week tour of California. On a Bus. I found out a lot about myself on this journey, how to be happy with myself, how to convene with God alone. But I lost something really important. I lost my voice and my desire to sing.  I went 4 years without singing then I sang in public was when I lived in Mexico and made it to the finals of a singing competition for my rendition of "All that Jazz" (From Chicago). I hated it, I understand why singers drink. I don't do well with stage fright, and I couldn't control my voice. I lost to a Mariachi chick, and once again lost my voice. I also grew to hate that one song from Chicago.

It wasn't until my wedding day that I was able to sing in front of people, to my husband and our guests. I could do it, because I was surrounded by my homies, my pose, my family. The people I knew wouldn't judge me for a cracked voice, or a too strung out vibrato. I felt nervous for a second and I was able to sing again for the someone.For me to sing, I have to sing for a reason: to praise, for love, to act. I think the reason why my experience with my college choir took it out of me, was it felt too commercial and I felt too disconnected from everyone.

I'm finding my voice again, even if I'm only singing in the shower, or in the car, because I'm not muting my feelings, and I'm allowing myself to let go and belt out whatever feels right in my soul.  Everyone has their own song, some it's running, other's drawing, it's that thing that moves and heals your soul. Make room in your life to sing your song and voice.

Now excuse me while I go sing "Wrecking Ball" while I clean the kitchen.

6 years a Therapist.

On November 5th, I entered my 6th year anniversary at my non-profit mental health agency. I have been in this field for 7 years (1 year internship while I was in the graduate program) and I enjoy it because it's a field that always challenges me.


When I had the chance to work with graduate students I gave them a few pieces of advice

1) Find an agency that will teach you while you learn the ropes of DMH paperwork. DMH paperwork was not taught to you as a grad student and requires almost a year (or for me 2) just to get a handle on it.

2) Accept that you will never be caught up you over-achieving glorious goons! It's ok, accept it and walk away

3) Find what works with your energy. I work best at the beginning of the week and taper out in energy as the week progresses, I schedule more clients on Monday Tuesday than Wednesday and Thursday. Some people are the opposite.

4) Above all, take care of yourself. You are a well of support, empathy, and understanding. Make sure you are always filled with what brings you joy and life, or else you will run dry, rendering you empty. Take care of yourself.

 I have heard some pretty horrific stories of abuse, deceit, lies, and all around awfulness. I have been yelled at, challenged, and been complained about to my boss. I once actually had to save a 10 min rant on my voicemail because I called DCFS on a parent just to cover my ass. It was crazy, and I wish I still had it. Working with LA County DMH standards is enough to test anyone's tolerance. The mountains of paperwork, the productivity demands, and the constant change and push for evidence based practice can drive you batty. The current climate of health care reform has been challenging for many of us. Evidence Based Practice can suck to soul out of the most promising therapists. This field is not for the weak of heart or the weak of soul. However hard the day is, the week, or the fiscal year I have still managed to keep my faith in humanity. I still find the energy to do what do and here is why:

1) My clients: Not all my clients are gems or the most enjoyable people to care for, but when you find that flicker of desire to change it's amazing. You see that that person wants to change and wants you to be a catalyst for that change. It's pretty awesome

2) I now have mad UNO skills. I challenge you to an UNO duel, I'll win.

3) The ugly: When you hear about abuse in such graphic detail as I and my colleagues have had to  you wonder how can you keep going. It's the trust behind the ugly is what keeps me hopeful. You trust me to hold all that awful in your life. For a moment I can carry the weight of it for you, even though you go on living with it every day.

4) Group Supervision: man, learning different techniques from new therapists and group supervisors is amazing. You can never learn too much.

5) My colleagues/friends. I am surrounded by incredibly smart, empathetic, driven women (and men-but they are few in this field). They are the reason why I haven't lost faith in humanity, because of what they do when they are in the trenches of mental illness. Not only have these women supported me professionally, but they have also supplied me with female camaraderie that every woman should have by my age.

So, may I have many more years in this field, and still maintain the level of hope and faith in me to continue to give to others. Because the only way to survive in this field is to continue to have faith the the human spirit and the human desire to change.