The Diary Series
Entry 1: October
I find some heavy irony in the fact that the last essay I published on here was acknowledging the highs and lows of life. It seems that October is a subscriber to my Substack and wanted to double down on the theme. Last month brought everything. Loss, heartache, growth, fun. Let’s get into it.
I Did Something that Scared Me
I’m a therapist. Really I should say I work as a therapist, social work is my profession. Though, if I’m honest it does feel more intrinsic than that at times. More cellular. I’ve held several different positions since graduating with my masters, but potentially my favorite component of a position was when I was clinical coordinator of an adult PHP/IOP program, that allowed me to manage a group of developing clinicians.
To me mentorship is invaluable, especially in a field that requires gatekeeping in a way that is both responsible and ethical, it feels daunting to navigate without following in some of the pre-established footsteps of those who came before.
I was lucky to have several examples of generous, encouraging clinical supervisors who were patient with me as I grew my clinical feet, while pushing me to expand my understanding of the practice and belief in myself. I remember thinking, even as I was completing it myself, that I couldn’t wait for this part of things. Where I got to encourage and guide the next generation of clinicians, sharing best practices and tricks of the trade like witches passing down the spells in their grimoire. I knew time needed to do its thing before I would get there, but six years later, my opportunity presented itself.
I walked onto Monmouth University’s campus on a perfect October day (which by mid afternoon became an unseasonably warm October day) and for the first time since 2019, I was there as a student. The nervous anticipation was buzzing in my belly as I navigated an unfamiliar building (the business building, yuck) to the classroom where my PEP (Professional Education Program) workshop for Clinical Supervision was being hosted. The imposter syndrome had set in the second I got the email confirming my enrollment. Who was I? Had I been doing this long enough? What expertise did I have to pass on to anyone? Would they take me seriously? Had I done enough to earn this position? On and on right up to the moment I entered the room. I immediately spotted a familiar face from my masters program and rushed to them, throwing my arms around her neck in what was probably a shocking embrace for 9am. In taking in the rest of the collective, of the 17 of us, almost all seemed to be my age. An introductory activity also confirmed we were of similar levels of experience, with wonderfully diverse work and personal backgrounds that colored our contributions. In the four Fridays we spent together we somehow became familiar to each other, sharing vulnerabilities and fears, allowing the rest of the group to lift us up with validation.
The whole experience, from the instructor who is brilliant and funny and formed group cohesion without it being cringey, to the catered lunch that Monmouth provided with these insane pita chips the group couldn’t stop raving about, I was beyond grateful to be there, learning again. Spending time each week with individuals who are so similarly oriented to the world felt affirming, comforting, and soul expanding. I am so grateful for these people who were previously strangers but who I will now look to for comradary and guidance as we all set out to provide the best supervision possible.
I’m so proud of the leap I took, of the belief I chose to have in myself despite the doubt. I can’t wait to put this certification to good use.
We Said Goodbye
We celebrated the life of my wife’s grandmother, Rosa Maria, who joined her husband and the God she honored all her life on 10/5.
By the time I met Rosa 8 years ago she was winding down a well lived life. Already several inches shorter than she was at her tallest, I immediately loved her. I told my wife she looked like a tiny raisin and I wanted her to love me too. What developed was a quiet relationship of observation. Her observing who I am to her granddaughter, how I show up, how I interact with the generations of her family. Me observing who she is as a woman, a mother and grandmother, a great grandmother.
I walked the too-warm room of the funeral home where her wake was hosted, my eyes searching photo boards for glimmers of who she was in the many decades before I met her. Who she was when her life was in its busiest seasons, when her children were small and she was keeping the home spinning as her husband worked.
Before me was a life honored through pictures.
Her and her husband, dancing, loving each other
Her and her children laughing
Her holding her first grandchild
Her holding her first great grandchild with unmatched joy on her face
I passed a sepia toned photo with her in the foreground, the photo capturing her profile as she breaks down a fish with her hands and a crude knife. I gasped, turning to my wife
“That’s you”
The tight curls, the freckles, the perfectly delicious round cheeks, so similar to the face I take in each day. I knew the Mercado genes were strong, but this was jarring, and special. That photo is now framed on our living room wall.
I love my father-in-law. As a human, as a husband, father, grandfather, friend, community member, he is top tier. Over the years I’ve observed that so much of what I adore about my wife comes directly from him. Her deeply causal nature, her welcoming kindness, her relentless silliness, the twinkle in her eye when she’s being stubborn, all him. Not until we were combing through memories of Rosa, was I struck by how much of who he is, and subsequently who Bianca is, likely came directly from her.
Rosa’s eulogy was simple and direct, hers was an immigrant story, a story of resilience and fortitude, of deep faith, and specifically of family. She was a woman of relentless service, great humor, and no nonsense. She also made a damn good pot of rice. The best I’ve ever had. I’ll miss being loved through her cooking, and I’ll miss watching her love her family. But I know she is dancing with her husband again, and that feels like exactly where she would want to spend eternity.
We Celebrated Love
The month rounded out with two weekends of dedicated fun. The first, a gorgeous wedding in upstate NY for a couple that we adore. The bride is a fellow therapist I met at Monmouth. A vibrant, loyal, passionate, outdoorsy girl who married her perfect match. The grad girls (four of us, including the bride) rarely get to see each other but I feel certain that I could not have survived my masters program without them and every time we reunite I remember why ours was not just a connection of convenience. I love them all to their core, and cheering for them, their career achievements, their personal growth, is one of my favorite things. Also, if you’ve never been to Kingston, NY, it’s a wildly cute town with heavy queer vibes, check it out.
And finally, Halloween weekend in the city with my best friend and our dogs. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, saw wonderful theatre, ate delicious food, and stumbled upon a wiener dog costume contest in Central Park that was even cuter than you can imagine. It was exactly what the doctor ordered.
The whole Enchilada
We talk about it in abstract, that life provides us all unplanned highs and lows but this month felt like it ran the gamut in real time. Love and loss, mundane and extraordinary, draining and reinvigorating.
I haven’t been this busy in a long time. So much so that midway through the month I had to stop and marvel at the younger versions of me who had seemingly endless energy. College me who was a full time student, worker, and doing multiple productions at the same time? Weeknights full of homework and weekends booked with shows and activities. I feel so far from her when my head hits the pillow, absolutely exhausted at 9pm. But this month I had to tap into those mystery reserves as life demanded more from me. I felt capable, impressed that I can still do it all. And almost immediately remembered why I stopped that pattern. I don’t enjoy doing it all anymore. I enjoy doing some things, with a ton of intention. I enjoy saying “no” and am hoping for a slower November. But last month, every “yes” felt like exactly where I was meant to be.
Miscellaneous Mar:
Watched: Gilmore Girls, annual Fall rewatch, obviously. I’ve been watching GG since the show was airing on tv, it was weekly family viewing in my house, by everyone except my Dad who found them annoying for talking so much 🙄 Season 7 continues to be the biggest letdown
Black Rabbit - slow at times and hard to get through at other times, Jason Bateman does a perfect job at playing a charming, self destructive addict that you’re in love with and want to kill at the same time
Listened to: The Life of A Showgirl - Transparently, for a melancholy babe such as myself, I prefer the vibes of TTPD and Folklore. That being said, I think the Reputation girlies deserve their flowers too and I hope Showgirl gives them the kicks they’ve been seeking. The title track with Sabrina is my favorite, followed by Honey and Wood (good for her fr).
Conan Grey - Wishbone. Vodka Cranberry1 is my favorite song right now, I think it is perfect and reminds me of something that would play in a phenomenal 90’s/early 2000’s teen angst movie. It’s moody and sad and something I can sing at the top of my lungs and I loveeeee it.
Made: Justine Doiron is my favorite food blogger and content creator, I made her sticky toffee teremisu2, and while it wasn’t particularly misu-y, it was its own dessert all together and too damn delicious for words. I have a hunch that the salted toffee syrup component would be unreal in a latte. Coffee drinkers, let me know.
I’m growing my own sourdough starter from scratch, it’s a labor of love and I feel surprisingly impassioned watching it slowly ferment with my daily feedings
Loved: Writing group every Monday, Halloween candy before Halloween, Theragun massager to help with my pulled neck because after 30 these things just happen from existing, Blueberry Belvita crunchy breakfast bars
This is a few days late because my run down little body is confused about all of the activity, so we’re starting November with a wicked cold (that I’m being Very Brave about btw)
I love you, now go vote
Mar