I’m sitting at the library today, looking out at the trees’ reflections on a square area of water where the birds usually gather to drink. A few moments ago, I received a text from a client saying that she finally did the one thing she’s been wanting to do for the past few months. I couldn’t help but feel so proud of her—and of myself. She reminded me of why I finally decided to do this job back when I was still in training.
I didn’t always want to be a psychologist, not until I was actually meeting clients and helping them, and realizing that what I did was actually meaningful. Fast forward 2.5 years after training: I was so burned out that I didn’t think I wanted to be a psychologist anymore. I was ready to pursue my childhood dream of being a full-time writer—although, of course, I could barely call it a job, as it doesn’t pay me a penny.
A few months later, a client approached me, saying that she wanted to have a session with me because she couldn’t match with other psychologists she met. It was only after she approached me several times that I thought about starting a private practice. It was also because of her that I had my first client—she recommended me to some of her friends.
And after a while, I was back to doing sessions. I prepared everything in my power to ensure the quality of my services: re-reading the most updated CBT books; reading the latest existential-humanistic therapy books; and giving myself semi-short therapy sessions while reading those books so I could actually embody what I read instead of simply intellectualizing it. Day and night, for a month, I spent 70% of my time preparing therapy and administrative papers for my non-existent clients.
I realized it had been so long since I deeply re-learned what I’ve been preaching. I hadn’t done so because I was so busy worrying about other stuff that didn’t necessarily have anything to do with improving my care. I regret that I let myself stay in such circumstances for some time, although, of course, I still got a lot of value out of my past experience in my previous workplace—values that I continue to apply today. But this time, I get to apply them in my own way, with my own values, and at my own pace.
I came to the conclusion that, at the end of the day, it is my clients who saved my life. They keep reminding me why I wanted to do this job, why I want to keep doing this job, and why—probably for a very long time in the future—I will still want to do this job.
Thus, I dedicate this post to all the clients I’ve met or have not yet met. To every one of you: thank you for making me stay in this job and for making me keep coming back to it, no matter how insanely difficult it is to earn a decent living while staying sane. This is the paradox of our job in providing mental health services—the paradox of every possible job in the entire world—where at the end of the day, we’re just trying to survive while creating and re-creating meaning here and there. 🙂
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