Just Keep Swimming

I had it SO easy as a new grad and young therapist. I lived in an area in which music therapy was relatively well-known, if not universally accepted; and since there were a few college music therapy programs already established, referrals were easy and steady. I literally hit the ground running. With a few dips and valleys here and there, I worked steadily and happily for years. Woot!

Fast forward ten years, and I’m living in a whole different area of the country. For the first time in my life, I am out of the Northeast and I am living in a SMALL. TOWN. The population of the entire town is less than the population of my neighborhood growing up. As if the culture shock wasn’t enough just in everyday life, music therapy is foreign to most people. Some are downright hostile towards the idea of something so  “new” and out-of-the-box. Anyway, I often get the hairy eyeball (what exactly is that, really?!?) when I explain that I am a music therapist.

Add to that angst the fact that this is a military area, and many of my referrals have been military. I love this. There is no greater honor than to serve the families of those who have served and sacrificed. If I can give back in whatever small way, I’m not only happy to do so; I feel compelled to act. However, serving clients from a military installation means that you are serving a highly mobile population.  PCS (Permanent Change of Station) often comes in a wave, with multiple clients leaving at the same time.  So this Boston girl did NOT anticipate this kind of thing, and suddenly found herself looking at a decimated caseload. EEK!

After my traditional bout of catastrophic thinking (you know what I’m talking about; the sky is falling, I’ll never work again, I’ll be a bag lady on the street in short order, my husband will resent me forever {oh, please, he’s my biggest cheerleader!!}), I took a deeeeeep breath and stepped back for a moment. Enter in the big-girl therapist self-talk:

• You must be willing to educate people about what it is that you do. In other words, you need to present, be a presence at events like Buddy Walks, Autism Awareness Events, whatever. Okay. I’ve done the events.  I will do more. I’ve presented a little bit. As it happened, the week after my caseload was slashed by PCSs, I was invited to speak on-base about music therapy for children and youth. So I beefed up the presentation, committed it to memory (so I didn’t look like a slacker, reading from my notes!!), and pushed the ever-present anxiety over the survival of my tiny practice waaaaay down inside.

• I needed to remember my first love, the actual practice of music therapy. So what that things were slow now? It was not a reflection upon me as a therapist or a person. Buck up, babe! Remember why it is that you do what you do! Do you believe in the efficacy of music therapy? Without a doubt.  Let your love for the kiddos and your love for the art and discipline of music therapy shine through. It’s really not about how you feel, anyway. In fact, it’s not really about you. Really.
• Thankfully (SOO THANKFULLY!), our national association (AMTA)  has tons of resources for people  looking to sustain and grow their private practices. This temporary slow period is the perfect time to take advantages of online courses and the scads of publications available. AND–you get continuing ed. credits. BOOYAH.
• Be willing to expand yourself. My expertise (and my heart) is in special education and pediatric neuro, with some adult psych mixed in. Time to stretch here, and gain skills in other areas, such as geriatrics, and perhaps even medical music therapy. Scary? Um, yes. Worth it? Of course, on so many levels.
• Be ready and willing to fight for it. I love private practice. I love the freedom, and I love marching to the beat of my own drummer. Above all, I love the autonomy it gives me to practice music therapy the way I believe it should be practiced. As Bruce Cockburn so eloquently stated in a song so many years ago, “Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight./Gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.”
  He’s so right.
• Be thankful. I am so incredibly grateful for the families whom I have served, and continue to serve. I’m grateful for the trust they have placed in me, I’m grateful for the opportunity to treat their children, and I’m grateful for the enthusiasm with which they have embraced music therapy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even this current down time.
• Finally…remember  the sage advice in “Finding Nemo.” Just keep swimming.

Yup. Just keep swimming.

Until next time, sing, dance, play and create. Thanks for reading!