Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

Whether I have OCD or not, I don’t know. But if I do, I’m here to tell you — I’m managing it well. As we speak, I’m sitting in a 4’x4’ roped-off space, on my butt, picking out acorns, weeds, and something called centipede grass. Centipede grass grows like a vine — apparently, some peopleContinue reading “Sucking Up Nature”

I recall asking my then-supervisor, Richard, about slow times as a business owner, one who depends on client work for a paycheck. “There are seasons,” he told me. “Sometimes it’s busy, and sometimes there’s a lot of downtime.” Since he was a seasoned psychologist, I trusted him. And whenever those slow periods hit, the instinctContinue reading “The Weight of What Ifs”

I put my foot in my mouth. I say things that, afterward, when I’m alone with my thoughts, I go, “Jaclynn, c’mon. Did you really have to say that?” The two most recent instances come from therapy sessions. After a client mentioned their partner was cynical, I called them out, saying, “So are you,” beforeContinue reading “The Weight of Quick Words”

“Something wicked this way comes” is a thought I have whenever the sky darkens, the clouds move a bit too fast, and I get that thrilling shiver up my spine. I notice that I often talk about the weather. Is it because I’m still getting used to not having my “year badge” living in theContinue reading “Here Comes the Storm”

Evelyn’s flipping through channels on the hotel TV, and when I hear “Pillow Fighting Championship” with two muscle-bound 20-something men carrying fluffy, silky sacks, I shout, “Stop!” A collective sigh of disappointment came over us as the men stood next to the referee, waiting for the judge’s announcement of the winner. If only we hadn’tContinue reading “Ping to the Pong”

Four hours later, still looped around my finger, is a plastic ring—a silver-dollar-sized image of wide-eyed Stitch, the Disney character. I was tasked with safekeeping it after it had been plunged into a cupcake, while Evelyn played in the pool with the birthday girl. I’m used to Evelyn’s conflicts with Emma, the girl two doorsContinue reading “Good Golly, Miss Molly, Parenting is Hard”

Not much pushes me out of bed to write. I love that cozy, warm feeling of waking up too early, only to fall back asleep for another hour or two. But my mind—it’s awake. And because of the squeaking of its hamster wheel, rest feels like a tug-of-war. I don’t care politically. And by sayingContinue reading “Bread, Birds & Bare Walls”

There’s a way to listen so intently that you lose yourself. It’s as if only the other person exists—their needs, their world—and you’re simply in it. And it’s okay, because you choose to be there for them. To set aside your own momentary needs in service to theirs. And that, in itself, is everything. Love,Continue reading “The Listening Ear”

Having hour-long sessions—weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly—with people I have no history with invites a kind of mindful attunement. I become sharply aware of how each person affects me. How I experience their choices, their presence, their silences. Sometimes, their vulnerability moves me. It calls something forward in me, nudging me toward the harder, truer conversationsContinue reading “Clinging to the Mothership”