The Incident of the Cheese Blizzard.

POOF! A cloud of white flew into the air, and the next thing I knew, I (and my entire kitchen) was covered in parmesan cheese. It was in my hair and my eyes, down my shirt, scattered throughout the open silverware drawer, and all over the floor. All I had attempted was to shake the container to get rid of those annoying clumps that form when you probably have left it in your fridge too long, but the top was obviously not sealed quite fully.

Once I realized that it was a random blizzard of cheese and not my apartment randomly combusting, I had this crazy split second where I didn't know how to react. I wanted to cry, because everything seems out of my control these days. I also wanted to be angry, because, well, seriously? Let's add cleaning out my cluttered silverware/random thing drawer to my ever-growing and never diminishing to-do list.

But instead, I just started laughing out loud. I had this vision of what I looked like in that moment: a frazzled, single twenty-six year old woman covered in Parmesan cheese (…and not even the good shredded kind) laughing alone in her apartment, and just kept laughing harder. I admit that I laughed until I had tears creating trails down my cheesy cheeks.

It's moments like those that I feel like I'm losing my mind. I mean, who just starts laughing when there are cheese particles in her hair? My life feels so chaotic and overwhelming right now: finishing grad school in three weeks, but with a to-do list a mile long, feelings about relationships and moving and people all over the board, no therapy job lined up for post-grad, blah blah blah. Most days I want to just hide in my bed all day and avoid the world.

But laughing is just so good for the soul.

Here's my favorite picture of my grandparents (my mother's parents). 

[Sidenote: check out that sweet red convertible in the background my gramma used to drive!] 

They experienced so much adversity as a couple, and I love that this picture captures a simple moment of joy. While Grandpa passed away when I was only in 5th grade, I'm so lucky to have Gramma and her smiles and wisdom still to this day. Gramma is the one of the best at choosing joy, no matter what's happening.

But the more I learn about people and the chaos, struggle, heartaches, and just the craziness of life, the more I believe that joy is a choice. Life happens. I fully believe there are times to cry and times to be angry, but I hope that we can all choose to laugh more than we allow those to take over.

Or that we can at least take a break from those emotions and find joy in something. anything. even if it's Parmesan cheese all over your kitchen floor. 

Online dating, vulnerability, and brick walls.

In the past year, I have gone on quite a few first dates. Some of you know this, but at the beginning of 2014, I decided to dabble in the overwhelming, often hilarious, and ridiculous world of online dating. Now don't get me wrong, I know it can work, and it's one of the most effective ways of dating in our society today, but my experience has been interesting. I've gone on numerous dates to coffee shops, bars for a drink, restaurants for dinner (those make me the most nervous), and even once went canoeing with a guy on a first date. I recognize that wasn't my smartest or safest choice, but I lived (and the more I think about it, I realize that was a very dangerous decision).

All Most of the men have been great, easy to talk to, and the dates have been enjoyable. There was that one crazy dude, but that's a story for another time. Through all of this dating however, I've learned something, okay, a lot of things, about myself. On my latest date, we were at dinner, and I realized that I was being absolutely, completely, and entirely BORING. I'm not joking. I was boring myself. I literally thought at one point, "If I was him, I'd be out of here in a jiffy."

And then it clicked. I was hiding behind my education of therapy and my skills of essentially interviewing people about their lives without letting them into mine. I was genuinely caring about his life, but I wasn't letting him past a huge concrete wall into mine.

If I've let you past that wall even in the slightest, you know that I'm freaking hilarious. Okay, maybe not stand-up comedy status, but I think I'm funny. Basically I'm just ridiculous and goofy and friends laugh at my ridiculousness. I wasn't letting him see any of that, and I didn't know how to break down the wall in the moment. I even went to the bathroom and texted a friend with the classic "SOS this date is going horribly!". (Not surprisingly, there was no second date, but at least I learned a lot!)

After the date I was SO mad at myself. Why couldn't I let him in? Why was I so stiff and intellectual and not funny one little bit?

This past weekend, I went down to Pasadena area to visit one of my favorite people and closest friends from undergrad, Jenn Irish. Two of our mutual close undergrad friends, Em and Stef, came up to Pasadena from San Diego for the weekend, and it was amazing. It was a time of just being myself. Of being ridiculous and real about my feelings and fears and dreams and goals. Of laughing about silly debates about colors of clothes (I swear those shorts of Em's were peach, not orange…or sherbet. haha) and laughing at how we've changed from college and passing around a tub of cookie butter ice cream as we each had a spoon.

It was so.good.

I love that I have people in my life that know the true me. The me that is sarcastic, blurts out ridiculous things, and how I truly couldn't live without almonds. From Redding to Hughson to San Diego to around the US and even world, I have friends who know the authentic me. So grateful for how they got past my walls.

I think healthy relationships/friendships involve an incredible amount of vulnerability. It takes effort for sure. We build these walls for our protection, usually because we've gotten previously emotionally hurt by someone who we've let past the walls. I don't believe those walls are inherently negative. They protect us and we are in control of them.

However, I think we need to have doors in the walls. We need to figure out what our walls consist of. For me, my walls recently are based on my academic knowledge and intellectualizing conversations. The wall has a door, but it seems to take a very specific knock and dance to get me to fully open the door so a person gets all the way through.

We also need to discover what allows a person through/over/under/vaporize though the walls. When do we let people in? What makes them safe? Who do we see as safe? and most importantly, do we still agree with what kind of people we've let through in the past, and if not, how can we change those?

I guess this post is an attempt in the ongoing process to break down those walls in my life. Vulnerability is scary. It's uncomfortable. It pushes you out of your comfort zone. But it's essential for growth. For healthy relationships. And for me, hopefully, it will eventually allow me to be myself on dates.

I leave you with a quote from one of my absolute favorite authors and researchers:

“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. 

Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness.” 

― Brené Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead

Thankful for these women who love me when I'm truly myself. 

by the way folks, I'm only four months away from being done with a masters in Counseling Psychology and finished with grad school in general! start the celebrations now!

hope&joy

2014 was a doozy. A rip-roaring doozy.

There were joys: multiple trips to San Diego, standing next to one of my best friends from college in her joyous wedding, spending quality time with my amazing family, and successfully beginning [and enjoying!] my practicum clinical placement and subsequently becoming closer to finishing my masters. 

However, more looming are the deep sorrows that have created a shadow over this past year: my Grandma Milhous, who never smoked a day in her life, losing a 9 month battle to lung cancer in July; one of my favorite grad professors, Rebecca Carter, who changed so many lives, losing her life in December to cancer 10 extremely short weeks after being diagnosed; and although this may seem small to some, we had to put my childhood cat down in May after an inoperable tumor grew and caused him extreme discomfort. 

My heart hurts when I think of these sorrows of last year. Why two such amazing, loving, God-honoring people were taken by cancer, I'll never know. 

But, as I head into 2015 and my first of 3 more terms before I graduate (24 weeks [plus breaks], 216 hrs of sitting in class, and 9 actual courses…not that I'm counting or anything), I keep being reminded of this:

We must keep hope and we must choose joy. 

hope.

I have hope that 2015 will be better than 2014. I have hope that someone, somewhere will find the cure for cancer and I pray it happens in my lifetime. I have hope that God will use my life for good, even if it doesn't look exactly as I would have pictured it. I have hope that my niece and nephews will continue to develop into amazing, God-honoring people. I have hope that those who encountered Rebecca Carter's teaching will share what they learned about God and life and trust to others. I have hope that these sorrows will be weaved into my story in a way in which I honor those I lost this year. 

I. have. hope. 

joy.

When I was home for Christmas, I was asked by some really wise friends, "What did you learn in 2014?" After a little bit of contemplation over a delicious panini, great conversation, and a glass of wine, I decided this:

2014 solidified my decision to choose joy. Happiness comes from happenings, but joy is deeper; it comes from choice. It most often is a conscious decision. It is something you may have to remind yourself to choose every day, every hour, every 15 minutes, but there is always something to find joy in. The one big example I can find from this year is that through the sorrow of my grandmother's passing, my grandpa and I have created a closer relationship than I have ever had previously. I am choosing to be joyful in that. To look at the sad situation of missing Grandma, and be happy that at least I can call my grandpa and easily chat with him about life.

Overall, I'm stoked 2014 is over. I'm ready for 2015 and all it has to offer. 

Happy 2015 from the Milhous fam!

Crying in Costco, Grace, and Preemptive Apologies.

Standing in line for the pharmacy counter at Costco at 10am on a Wednesday is not the ideal place to suddenly start feeling like you're going to cry. And yet, that is what happened to me last week. I managed to give myself a little "suck it up, cupcake" pep talk, keep my composition, and attributed the weepy eyes to my crazy schedule, lack of breakfast, and large amounts of caffeine so far that morning. So, post getting teary in line and getting frustrated with insurance issues at the counter, I decided a chicken bake would remedy the problem. I mean, obviously. Chicken bakes are delicious and will make me feel better and I would be fine. [if you don't know what a Costco chicken bake is, do yourself a favor and go directly to your friendly, local Costco and give it a go...they're bready, chickeny, bacony, saucy goodness.]

Instead of that completely fixing my problem, I soon found myself crying as I hurried to work in my car while consuming the assumed almighty chicken bake. I'm also pretty sure Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" was playing the background too. It's a pretty hilarious mental picture now, I admit, but at the time, I was a mess.

What got me to this sad point? Reality is: I'm overwhelmed. It kinda feels like I'm treading water, and while my head is still above water, my body is getting tired. Standing in that line, willing it to hurry up so that I could rush back to work so that I could make it to a meeting and fine tune a paper and presentation due that night and make sure my case notes for clients are done and, and, and. I just had this feeling of hitting a wall and thinking, "I can't do this." followed by "I literally can't keep up this pace through July." It was rough.

I mean, I know I CAN. I know it's only for a season, and other than my crazy schedule, I'm in a pretty good place in my life. I don't hate Redding anymore and am actually not in as big of a rush to leave here once I graduate (wait, did I really just say that?!). I have friends here who care about me and a solid job. I'm having more fun on the weekends. Just the combo of school, work, and practicum is starting to take its toll. 

However, if last Wednesday was any indication, I have an amazing support group both near and far. My coworkers were more than patient with me, my best friend from home texted me (not knowing how my day was going) just appreciating our friendship, and my family was [unsurprisingly, because they're just always awesome] so encouraging. I'm so thankful for all of you in my life that continuously tell me that I am able, that you're proud of me, and that just pick me up when I'm down. Not many people have a support system that spreads across the world; I'm a lucky one.

I guess I'm just asking for a little grace [and more than a little prayer] in the next few months. I'm sorry if I'm grumpy to you or short with you or just seem exhausted and not engaged. I apologize if I take something personally and you're more than welcome to call me out on it. I'm going to need lots of prayer, grace, and hugs in the coming months. 

Don't worry, I'm still choosing joy and looking for it in all situations, because there is always joy to be found. Just sometimes, it takes a little more looking.

Clients, Case Notes, and Sweaty Palms.

heart racing. hands slightly shaking. rapid thoughts flying through my brain. slightly sweaty pits (just being honest). re-reading client files over and over. adjusting the chairs and lighting multiple times. that terrifying moment you meet your client and instantly think out of insecurity "nope, they don't like me. I'm never going to be able to connect with them." overthinking every word that comes out of your mouth.

but then..

you connect. your heart slows down a bit. you see them visibly relax as you gain their confidence. you constantly remind yourself to "just be present with them" and it works. you become a container for their struggle. it's not easy. it will never be easy. but it works and it's affirmed that by being present and truly listening to them, you are helping.
---------------------------

oh hey friends, it's Rachel Milhous here, Marriage and Family Therapist Trainee. (yes, I have a real title!)

happy to be back in a classroom!

Over the last two weeks, I have begun seeing clients at two different placement sites for my practicum. Practicum is probably what you would think of as an internship: We have a list of approved sites from our program, had to meet a bunch of requirements, and then interview for and choose sites that want us as well. We have to have obtained a certain amount (225) of hours of actual therapy at these sites before we can graduate in July.

I decided to be a slightly crazy person and commit to two sites (in addition to my normal 3 hr classes 3 times a week and working almost 30 hrs a week on campus too) but I think it's doable. I'm taking a few undergrad students as clients at Simpson University Counseling Center, but that's my secondary site.

My primary site (where I do most of my hours) is with Steps to Tomorrow, an organization that contracts with schools to provide therapy on-campus at high schools in Redding. I'm spending Fridays at Pioneer High School, which is the continuation high school (the students are there because of a combo of lack of academic credits, behavioral issues, and usually some sort of alcohol/drug violation).

My first day there was this past Friday, and I was beyond nervous. These students are just so real and deal with life issues I can only try to imagine (no food at home, domestic violence, parents on drugs, etc). After a rapid and overwhelming introduction to school administration, paperwork, and expectations, I met with my first client/student. I'm seeing clients in the rec room which has no phone, so I have to walk to classrooms and ask to pull students out of class in person. When you don't know any of the teachers, the students have no idea who you are, AND they have no idea they've been referred for counseling, it's quite terrifying. But I did it. I saw 3 clients on Friday and they went so, so well.

I had a surreal moment on Friday after a client with whom I felt I really connected with walked out of my room. I caught myself smiling and thought, "This. this is why I pursued this degree in the first place."

For the first time in months, I fully believe that this program and all of the late nights, tears, frustrations, hard work, and exhausted days will be worth it. My passion for working with high school students in a therapeutic realm has been reconfirmed. I know it will be difficult, but this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

Honestly, the outpouring of love and encouragement from friends and family as I step into this whole new world has been so amazing. Your belief in me and my ability to be a successful therapist is so uplifting and helps in those moments of "Can I really do this?". So thanks. You're the best.

“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.” 

- C. Joybelle

Resisting the urge to flee while finding the courage to stay.

Yesterday, I caught myself looking up flights to foreign countries. It didn't matter which country; I think I looked up flights to all continents minus Antarctica. Last week, I found myself googling "International non-profit jobs" (which apparently is way too broad of a search because it just made me overwhelmed with the options…). 

Needless to say, I'm itching to get out. If you ask me why, I'd probably say something like "To experience new cultures, meet new people, and just have adventures! This is the time of my life to do it!" After some introspection, I realize that while those are wonderful attributes to traveling and totally true, my honest motivation for getting away right now is just that: to get away. 

to flee.

to avoid my unhappiness.

to feel as if my life has true joy - not forced joy as it seems to be here. 

to meet people I actually feel like I connect with. 

This year has been rough. While I'm still choosing joy in my struggles, it has not been a walk in the park - and I'm trying to be honest with myself and others about those feelings. I know life isn't always San Diego acai bowls and trips to the Great Wall of China, but wowzers. I'm living in a town in which I can't seem to connect with people (coworkers and classmates are my saving grace), committing so much of my time, effort, and money to a grad program in which I love my classmates but am not sure I want to do what it's setting me up to do (Marriage and Family Therapy) and struggling being away from home as my grandmother battles cancer. We just had to put my childhood cat down, my heart has been hurt a few times this year by guys (mostly unintentionally or unknowingly on their part), and I've never experienced loneliness on a level like this in my entire life. 

I want to flee.

When people hear of my past travels, the reactions are often "You did each of those alone?! You're so brave!" or "I would never have the guts to do that, especially alone!" My thought these days is that those travels yes, took courage, but it's taking much more resolve and determination to stay. 

Sometimes, I believe God calls us to go. But I also believe that there are times when He tells us to stay. To persevere. To stick out the struggles and the loneliness and the uncertainty. I guess I am in one of those times (because really…have I mentioned that I would love to book a one-way ticket somewhere right now?!)

My parents were visiting me last weekend and as we were talking about my perfect, fabulous little apartment; my encouraging, loving coworkers; and the way school, work and living have all worked together perfectly, my [wise] dad made this statement, "It's almost as if you are exactly where you're supposed to be."

It's so true. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. It's not where I'd maybe like to be, but I believe God has me here for a purpose.

I guess I'll refrain from buying one of those one-way plane tickets….for now.

[Also, a major thank you to all of you who have been such a support for me this past year - there have been way too many times in which you have been overwhelmingly awesome and encouraging and I'm SO grateful for you.]

Choosing to keep my eyes open.

I love music. I love music that I feel speaks to my soul. Music that just "gets" me. Music that fits my mood, thoughts, etc. Usually, if you were to ask me, I can tell you a song that is just me in that particular time of my life. If I look back on my "songs", I can see where I was in life - "Move Along" by All-American Rejects (I know, I'm dating myself) was totally freshman year of college when life was rough, "Time of Your Life" by Green Day is study abroad in Ireland, and "Good Life" by OneRepublic was definitely representative of my adventures in South Korea.

I'm assuming most of you have heard the huge hit these days "Wake Me Up" by Avicii, a phenomenal Swedish DJ/remixer. If you haven't, here's the youtube so you have an idea what I'm talking about. 

I thought that this was my "song" for now. However, I've really been thinking about it, and I've decided that I don't like this song. Now before you are like "whaaaat?!", Hear me out. 

Realistically, I love this song. It's the perfect mix of country, pop, and house music. 

I admittedly listen to it all the time.

But the lyrics kill me. 

The main line of the chorus is "So wake me up when it's all over - When I'm wiser and I'm older"

I think so many of my generation do this. We are closing our eyes to the world around us because we don't want to deal with it. Many of us are overeducated and under experienced. We are either marrying quickly without full commitment or waiting for "the one" and time seems to be flying away from us. We are hoping for a dream job, our student loans to magically disappear, and the world to be fixed magically while we "figure our own lives out" (usually in the form of posting on Facebook and Instagram our biggest accomplishments and being envious of others)

But I don't think that's what we as humans should be doing. I believe God created us to live. Not to only live when it is good. Not to close our eyes to the evil and despair in our world, but to recognize it, fight against it, and have hope. If we close our eyes and hope to be "woken" when it's all over, we are wasting our time. You're missing your life.

So even when life isn't going exactly how I'd like it to be, I want to keep my eyes open. The rough patches of life are just as important and influential as the easy times. These rough times will teach me, mold me, and make me appreciate the joyful moments.

So I'm going to keep my eyes open.