9/17/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

I’m sure you’ve herd this phrase: Hold on, it will get better. And I am even more sure that when you have heard it, your head wants to spin in a gazillion different directions with the only plausible response being: “You don’t understand!” You know what? You’re right! Even if someone had walked a mile in your shoes, it becomes impossible to walk a mile in your shoes with your history, life experiences, and, well, paradigm.

Your perspective, view of the world, emotionality – all of it – that’s yours to own. No one should ever try to presume that they know exactly how you feel – because, at the end of the day, they can’t know, not exactly anyway.

That said, that doesn’t mean that others around you are useless in terms of your own journey towards success. Humans are story-telling creatures by nature. That is, we learn better by way of a narrative or story rather than rote memorization or other less-than-ideal methods. Tell someone a story and they’ll remember that for seemingly indefinitely. This, of course, can be super helpful and super, well, unhelpful. Seriously though, ancient hieroglyphs and cave art clearly articulate stories to be passed on from generation to generation, much in the way our written word does in modern times.

Relationships are all about sharing stories, seeking to understand the paradigms of those around us. With greater trust, deeper stories and ideas are shared amongst those in that inner circle. A faith, of sorts, develops, bridging the gap between two individual paradigms ushering in a more closely relatable set of circumstances. That faith encapsulates the idea that the other person or persons will not violate your trust and spread things to other, less trusted individuals. That faith hinges on the belief that the other person or persons will not patronize your emotions or opinions or otherwise laugh at you or use against you.

Even at the end of all of that, no human on this planet can fully, exactly understand your experiences.

I work in a field where I am entrusted with people’s brokenness – a world where painful narratives are retold, shared, and carried with the hope of respite – that someone else will help buoy them up for a few moments so they can breathe until they have to resume to striving to keep their heads above water. There is a level of sacred trust that is like a water station on a marathon race or a belief, much like Dory’s theme song from Finding Nemo, that one has the ability to “just keep swimming”.

While others may not know how to exactly understand your perspective and experience, they can oftentimes relate, which allows others to share the burden for a moment. We all, myself included, become fatigued after too much treading water. You do have what it takes to keep going. Because, giving up is not an option. We all, including myself, find ourselves treading water, being stuck, feeling broken.

Suffice it to say, we need each other. Life is better together. And we all need that respite – that boost – to keep our heads above water from time to time. That much is a universal human experience.

Fractured, Broken, Beautiful: The Art of Being Lost and Found

8/27/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

Things are, most certainly, not only what they seem. Oftentimes, they’re quite fractured.

Last week, I wrote about my permanently broken and dislocated foot. Perhaps I underdescribed this concept. I shattered my foot. Rather, broken beyond repair. There is this glass-blowing technique which hot glass is doused in cool water and it causes the glass to partially fracture in these hairline spider-web designs while holding the integrity of the blown glass. The reality is that this fracturing creates an element of fragility. Broken yet whole. Fragile yet uniquely beautiful with no two pieces ever being identical. I suppose, in a weird sort of way, this can also describe my foot, minus the “beautiful”. My foot is shattered into an undetermined amount of pieces yet it is whole, fragile, and can bear weight.

Also in 2021, I was bound and determined that I was right. Being stubborn and refusing to acknowledge that I might be wrong, I added 6 hours of driving onto an already exhausting 18-hour drive from Denver, CO to Oshkosh, WI. To be fair, eastern Colorado looks very much the same no matter what highway you might find yourself on: brown, desolate, and rolling hills. My younger daughter, a human GPS of sorts, continued to try to tell me that this wasn’t right. I wouldn’t listen. And then I crossed the border of Colorado and, well, not Nebraska. I went too far south and landed myself in Kansas. A giant map at a rest-stop informed me that I should have taken I-76 to I-80 into Nebraska. I, instead, took I-70 and kept waiting for it to junction with I-80. That would have been a never-occurring junction. I righted myself and, 6-ish hours later, was never so happy to land myself in Nebraska. What joy it is to be “found” though!

How do these two ideas relate? It’s simple, really. Sometimes, things are definitely not as they seem. The picture is broader, bigger, more fractured, more whole than we could possibly imagine. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how fractured or broken or lost we are; rather, what matters is that we’re whole and found. There are other angles to look through lenses to gain greater clarity and solid footing (pun intended). Sometimes we think we see the whole picture only to be shocked when someone points out a blind spot we missed.

I hate it when people make assumptions about me and when people see me as way more fragile than I am. I may be fractured, broken, or lost, but the reality of the situation is that my soul is very much found. Beautiful is not found in perfection. My soul is found content in the brokenness, in the pause, and in confidence of solid relationships on solid footing. That is what is beautiful. Better together. Stronger together. That’s how I want to start the next half-century – authentic and real and, well, fractured.

The Benefit of a Pause

8/23/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

It’s never, ever too late to start again. Failure does not have to equal defeat. Your past doesn’t need to define your future. Taking a moment to pause can give you an opportunity to tackle a problem from a different angle. Pausing does not have to equal stopping. Ground Zero doesn’t have to be negative. It can give you an opportunity to refine your goals, refresh your plan, and build the necessary resources to overcome the hurdles. Pausing does not need to mean stopping.

I always pause at the end of August. The end of August marks another milestone; however, this end-of-August milestone is, perhaps, larger than ever. The end of August marks the end of another 365.25 day trip around the sun for me but also the start of the next leg of the journey. This end of August doesn’t just mark the end of a 365.25 day journey, but also the end of a decade, but also the end of a half-century. Like I said, this year’s pause is huge. So is the amount of platinum-colored hair emerging through the light brown.

If I were to tell you that turning 50 was easy and not a big deal, I would be completely lying. I have been dreading this birthday for a very long time. I don’t feel a half-a-century. I don’t think I act like I am a half-a-century. And I certainly don’t think I have joined the ranks of the wise with this number associated with this trip around the sun. But one thing I do think I have come to terms with is finding humor in most of life’s situations.

I’ve been told I should write a book. No, that’s not correct. I’ve been told I should write two books – one serious and one humorous. I’ve started the serious book (well, start is a misnomer – I’ve been working on it for 13-14 years now) and the humorous one – well, I’m generating a list of stories that need to be included in that one. There are so many things that I have experienced that, when retelling the story, my ending line is, “I just can’t make this stuff up”.

As I pause and look back over the previous half-century, I realize I have experienced an awful lot – an awful lot of joy and pain. January 1 marked another restart for me – in terms of my career. I went from working for another clinic to owning my own practice and building a brand which focuses on integrity, authenticity, and well, approaching life differently. While it wasn’t a career change, per se, it certainly was another career restart. It hasn’t been smooth sailing, by any stretch of the imagination, but the “construction” season seems to be winding down and both grooves and a direction are within reach.

At the end of the day, who cares what the number of times you have traveled around the sun happens to be. It is just a number. Let’s lose the stereotypes and the blanket, cookie-cutter expectations of what should be accomplished when, and begin to just work together instead of against each other.

Pausing isn’t an ending; it’s an opportunity for a new beginning.

The Suffocation of Betrayal

8/21/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

Humanity is messy. At its core, we are all flawed human beings trying to get through life together. We have all sorts of vices that help us and hurt others, hurt us and hurt others, or otherwise inhibit us from flourishing. Humanity is broken. I suppose, in a way, that’s what makes the idea of disloyalty or betrayal that much more painful.

In the summer of 2021, I was living and working in Arvada, Colorado – a western suburb of Denver. Living in a big city had never been something I was accustomed to. Just shy of a year into living in the big city, I experienced “broken” in a new way – a literal way. I had been driving a 2014 Nissan Versa – the car worked well in Wisconsin, but it definitely did not have the necessary power to navigate the hills leading into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. At the end of June, my car would not shift out of first gear (I mean, even in an automatic transmission, you can feel the shifting or watch the RPM needle move depending on what gear the car was driving in). Fortunately, I was only a few miles from home and could take back roads to get home. It sure tested my patience, though, because I really couldn’t drive the car more than five to seven miles per hour. (For those of you who know me, I really do have a lead foot…).

Not to be outdone, I was determined to make things work. I lived near a station on the light rail. While I had to climb a steep hill to get to that train station, it was still doable. The end stop of the light rail was about a mile and a half from the outpatient clinic that I managed. On the way to the clinic, three-quarters of the walk was uphill. I suppose that made the walk back to the station and to my apartment that much easier because the vast majority was a decent decline. I did this walk every weekday. My feet took a beating.

I would get home at night and they would hurt, a lot. The left one would be especially misshapen and swollen. My health insurance deductible was astronomically high (like $19,000) and I really didn’t want to go to the doctor just to have them put me in a boot. A friend sent me a boot from Amazon (no kidding!) and that helped, some anyway. Until it didn’t. The first time it didn’t work was when I was carrying groceries up my outdoor steps to my apartment (no elevator) and I heard a snap and felt an insane jolt of pain. I kept going and immediately put my foot in an ice bath. The second time I heard a snap and had a similar jolt of pain was at my clinic and I was sitting on the floor putting books on a bookshelf. I tried to get my foot to calm down; however, by the time the next work week had started, my first stop was Urgent Care.

X-rays and an MRI showed a dislocation, several significant breaks, and an undetermined amount of fractures. That physician stated he didn’t know how I walked into the Urgent Care and that I had an unusually high pain tolerance. I was splinted and put on crutches (those went away a couple days later when my knee scooter arrived from Amazon) and referred for an orthopedic surgical consult. Needless to say, I spent the next four-and-a-half months in various casts and was fitted for an extra-special and extra-expensive boot (which I then wore for over two years). My foot is still misshapen, broken, swollen, and dislocated, but I am boot-free since the wayward bones finally stopped moving. Finally. Despite my ridiculous level of clumsiness, I had never before broken a bone. Go big or go home, I guess, as I didn’t just break my foot – I shattered it.

So how, exactly, does this relate to disloyalty and betrayal, you’re likely questioning. Well, it doesn’t, really. It more speaks to the brokenness of humanity. And when we realize that humanity is broken, we begin to start to recognize the pain of this brokenness and the pain our own brokenness can cause others.

Honestly, I’d break/shatter every bone in my body versus having to recover from the pain of disloyalty and betrayal. Those scars run deep and no cast, splint, or boot (Amazon-made or custom-made) can fully foster healing.

Betrayal is best defined as a treacherous disloyalty. That’s a tough, tough definition! No wonder the scars run so deep and the pain is so great! Sharp words for an even sharper pain! For me, I feel most betrayed when I find I am manipulated, unfairly blamed for something outside my control, lied to or about, silenced, stolen from, or dismissed. Over the course of my life, I have experienced betrayal that has fit in any one of the aforementioned categories. Relatively recently, though, I experienced a level of betrayal beyond what I thought some individuals were capable of. Perhaps this is exacerbated by the fact that I held a very high (maybe too high) level of respect for said persons when it really hadn’t been earned. I jumped in without abandon only to be left reeling with the echoing question, “Where did I go wrong?” In order to feel betrayed, one has to trust, first. I misappropriated trust and I took a huge risk of trusting with a level of vulnerability that perhaps was an over-reach. I took a risk that didn’t pan out. That’s on me. I’ve had several of these big-time risks over the course of the last two decades as I have attempted to shoot for authenticity and transparency.

Maybe you’re feeling rejected, abandoned, betrayed, or otherwise in a dark place. Perhaps you’re asking: “Where did I go wrong?” You don’t have to face this alone. There are real, authentic people in this world who passionately root for the underdog and touch the untouchables and accept the outcast or fringe. Betrayal and brokenness hurt a lot; but, when you heal, your scars are tangible evidence that you are incredibly strong. At the end of the day, I didn’t give up and I didn’t stop growing and I didn’t stop working towards authenticity and transparency. I don’t want you to give up either.

Don’t be afraid to reach out. You matter. Your pain matters. And, there’s someone in your future that needs you to successfully navigate this present. And if you are ready to take the next step, I’ll save a spot at the table for you. All you have to do is call or email.

For When You’re Waiting for the Proverbial Other Shoe to Drop

8/19/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

Sometimes, this thing that is called “Life” feels overwhelming and seemingly impossible. It’s a juggling act, of sorts, with too many balls in the air and not enough hands to catch them without some bouncing off of our heads, bodies, and ultimately, the ground. When life feels like it is going “okay”, we often find ourselves wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. I mean, we can’t keep up this juggling act indefinitely, can we?

The period from August 10-September 4 is always an extra challenging time for me, on a personal level. On 8/15/2024, I disclosed in the previous blog that I am “fringe” and never really felt like I fit in. There was a time, though, when I did feel like I had a place in this world. In October 1990, I received a hand-written card from someone I hardly knew named Michelle. She went out on a limb to connect with me. She was a couple of years older than me. I thought she was one of the most beautiful souls I had ever met. That card became a lifeline for me. I was sought after; rather, I had tangible evidence that someone wanted to be my friend. I took a risk. A BIG risk that could have ended in serious rejection. There were a couple of moments throughout our 26 year friendship that I thought I had sabotaged things to the point of no return. But, Michelle embodied mercy, unconditional love, and grace and she never really walked away – at least not by choice.

At some point in the mid-1990s, I think, Michelle had given me a book called Tales of the Kingdom. This has got to be one of the most powerful books I have ever read. Don’t be fooled – it looks like a children’s book – but it is anything but a children’s book. The art is beautiful; the symbolism riveting. The story is about a boy named Scarboy who is later renamed Hero and his adventures fleeing a city of opposites (night is day, day is night, etc.). He finds a lush, beautiful garden. He hides behind a hideous scar on his cheek (hence the name Scarboy) but he was able to flee this backwards city and save himself and his younger sister. One chapter of this book tells the story of the juggler.

This juggler firmly believed he was supposed to be a juggler. He felt it was his calling. But, he couldn’t juggle. That’s not to say he didn’t try. He worked so hard to try to master this skill. Lots of people attempted to tell him how to juggle. But every time he tried it their ways, he failed, and everything came crashing down. The Caretaker of the garden noticed his determination and struggle. The Caretaker’s advice was powerful: stop trying to be someone you’re not and find your own rhythm. When the juggler did this, and realized that his throw-catch rhythm was different than others’ rhythms in the troupe, he became a lead juggler.

Be real. Be you. Find your rhythm.

The reason August 10-September 4 is so difficult for me is that it is a tale of two birthdays – both of them belonging to Michelle. She was born on this earth September 4 but she was born into eternity on August 10 after a grueling five year battle with colon cancer. Life seemed cruel. I had finally had a long-time friend and the shoe had dropped. In the middle of this period is my own birthday. Michelle and I would celebrate our birthdays together. Currently, I am the age Michelle was when she passed away. If I am to be real, which I almost always am, sometimes I am jealous. She isn’t in pain anymore. She doesn’t have to fight the many shoes wanting to drop. She doesn’t have to try to find her rhythm – she has her perfect rhythm now. I know that, one day, I too will have that perfect rhythm.

Until that point, I’m going to keep spinning plates, juggling batons, and laughing when the balls come flying at me and bounce in all sorts of chaotic directions. After all, the other proverbial shoe will always drop, eventually. I’m going to continue to be real and messy (or, creatively organized) and transparent. And I’m going to laugh a lot. Because when the shoes fall, sometimes the only thing left to do, before chasing after their haphazard bouncing, is to laugh and the humor of it all.

Be real and be you. Everyone else is taken. And if you need a place to be you and be real and be messy, by all means, you’ll be at home here and we can journey together.

For When You Feel Lost or Otherwise Insignificant

8/15/2024 – By Carey Molinski, MA, LPC

Pinch yourself. Did you feel that? Yep. You’re human. Welcome to this gathering of real people who feel real things. Perhaps we all are a bunch of misfits trying to figure out this thing called life, of which, I am the biggest misfit of all. Perhaps we’re all just trying to muddle through, attempting to not get sucked down into the muck, grabbing onto whatever we can grab. Sometimes what we grab is strong and sometimes even that gives way. And we can feel surrounded, like our legs are made of lead and it is impossible to move forward. Or backward. Or even to one side or another.

Take a perusal of a social media platform of your choosing. Soon, there will be a flood of the proverbial “First Day of School” photos from people we once knew or currently know. These photos will have every hair in place, the required smile, the stiff new backpack, and the stain-free, freshly pressed new outfit. Oh the Places You’ll Go! (to borrow from Dr. Suess. Social media puts our best face forward. A facade of sorts, to keep up with every other person out there, deflecting from any and every imperfection that may ostrascize us. We have to “one-up” everyone around us. I will never forget my first day of school in the 6th grade. Thankfully, this was well before cell phones, internet, and social media. Money was always very tight when I was a kid, and not for a lack of hard work. My parents were two of the hardest working people I knew. Of course, to be sarcastic, this is back in the day when “I had to walk 17 miles to school uphill both ways”. I did have to walk down to the end of our dead-end street to catch the yellow school bus. I always stopped at the neighbor’s house on my way and my neighbor was a couple of grades ahead of me and we would walk down together. My first day of middle school. I was so anxious. I had attended a small country elementary school where I didn’t fit in with the majority of the students, but I didn’t really fit in with the outcasts either. I was fringe. Middle school was in the city and a chance for me to finally find that place where I belonged. But I was so anxious. My parents had scraped and saved and I had a brand new stiff pair of jeans on. I never had anything new. Most of what I had was hand-me-downs from the same neighbor that walked to the school bus stop with me.