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Existential Career Problems
Sep. 1st, 2021 08:48 pmEver since beginning our PhD, even before that when we took our undergrad courses in psychology, we've been aware of living in two vastly different worlds. One world is the world of psychology- singlet psychology tainted with bits of all the isms here or there, sometimes more than other times, but with an underlying ableist pathology premise. The other world is the world of plural community and plural activism, in which most discussions of psychology are either full of internalized ableism or a deep mistrust and hatred of the psychiatric system- pragmatic but sometimes unbalanced.
When talking to a supervisor about ethics, a few weeks ago we stated, "I'm a psychiatric survivor first and a clinician second." And ever since we let that statement out into the world, this double life we lead has been bothering us. We keep thinking about it and discussing it. We don't believe, for the most part (we don't fully agree on anything of course), that the two roles are incompatible. If we believed psychology as it is today was not going to help plurals, we would not be getting a PhD in it. A lot needs tweaking that only plurals can do, but there is useful information and knowledge and we have to believe in the process of therapy as potentially, though not always, helpful. At the same time, by secretly identifying with many experiences that are considered extreme or are very pathologized, we often feel like an outsider in our own field. By openly identifying as trans, we are seen as confusing and different, for better or worse. By secretly identifying as plural, we constantly see the way people like us are dismissed or exoticized or stereotyped, even by very kind-hearted and intelligent people. We know we belong, that we're enough, to do our career. But that doesn't stop the doubts from creeping in anyway.
This whole dilemma was beautifully illustrated in one of our metaphor dreams a few nights ago. Here's what we wrote down when we woke up:
We check ourselves into a hospital because our PTSD is out of control and we are freaked out and paranoid. Once we are there, we calm down. We notice that a bunch of our friends and colleagues are working there. They are friendly and happy to see us and don’t really comment on our patient status at this place. We’re chatting with one of them and she says, “oh yeah, this is a great place to work, y’all should totally do internship here!” and we say, “yeah, it seems great actually, but we’ve been a client here so we can never work here.” Time passes. We keep trying to talk to the other patients because we keep relating to stuff they say, but they keep us at arm length, saying we’re in with the therapists. Meanwhile, our colleagues keep asking us for advice about treating their clients and we get involved in planning the group therapy. But we are confused about whether or not we’re allowed to attend if we planned it, or if we should technically be planning it at all. Meanwhile everything is feeling mixed up in our head. We checked ourselves into this hospital and now we kind of work there but not really. We are also out as plural to some people who are friends or other plural patients, but not to the treatment team in charge of us, for the obvious reason that we don’t trust them with that knowledge. But then we look at the whiteboard in the common room and it has all our names written on it and all these diagrams of our inner workings. Seeing that, we panic for a minute, but then kind of calm down and are like “well, I guess everyone knows now.” Meanwhile everything stays the same and we just end up more and more confused about if we work there or are a client.
This is one of those where you're like, "wow. Good job, brain." The dream felt like swimming in the confusing mix of acceptance and rejection that we experience in both roles. It was validating, in a way, to feel that so overtly instead of our typical strategy of shrugging and trying to ignore the discomfort.
There's no conclusion here- no comforting take away. We live in two worlds, and will continue to do so. This is our life and our career and we can't unsee our own experiences or our training. Instead we have to learn to live between.
-Shawn
When talking to a supervisor about ethics, a few weeks ago we stated, "I'm a psychiatric survivor first and a clinician second." And ever since we let that statement out into the world, this double life we lead has been bothering us. We keep thinking about it and discussing it. We don't believe, for the most part (we don't fully agree on anything of course), that the two roles are incompatible. If we believed psychology as it is today was not going to help plurals, we would not be getting a PhD in it. A lot needs tweaking that only plurals can do, but there is useful information and knowledge and we have to believe in the process of therapy as potentially, though not always, helpful. At the same time, by secretly identifying with many experiences that are considered extreme or are very pathologized, we often feel like an outsider in our own field. By openly identifying as trans, we are seen as confusing and different, for better or worse. By secretly identifying as plural, we constantly see the way people like us are dismissed or exoticized or stereotyped, even by very kind-hearted and intelligent people. We know we belong, that we're enough, to do our career. But that doesn't stop the doubts from creeping in anyway.
This whole dilemma was beautifully illustrated in one of our metaphor dreams a few nights ago. Here's what we wrote down when we woke up:
We check ourselves into a hospital because our PTSD is out of control and we are freaked out and paranoid. Once we are there, we calm down. We notice that a bunch of our friends and colleagues are working there. They are friendly and happy to see us and don’t really comment on our patient status at this place. We’re chatting with one of them and she says, “oh yeah, this is a great place to work, y’all should totally do internship here!” and we say, “yeah, it seems great actually, but we’ve been a client here so we can never work here.” Time passes. We keep trying to talk to the other patients because we keep relating to stuff they say, but they keep us at arm length, saying we’re in with the therapists. Meanwhile, our colleagues keep asking us for advice about treating their clients and we get involved in planning the group therapy. But we are confused about whether or not we’re allowed to attend if we planned it, or if we should technically be planning it at all. Meanwhile everything is feeling mixed up in our head. We checked ourselves into this hospital and now we kind of work there but not really. We are also out as plural to some people who are friends or other plural patients, but not to the treatment team in charge of us, for the obvious reason that we don’t trust them with that knowledge. But then we look at the whiteboard in the common room and it has all our names written on it and all these diagrams of our inner workings. Seeing that, we panic for a minute, but then kind of calm down and are like “well, I guess everyone knows now.” Meanwhile everything stays the same and we just end up more and more confused about if we work there or are a client.
This is one of those where you're like, "wow. Good job, brain." The dream felt like swimming in the confusing mix of acceptance and rejection that we experience in both roles. It was validating, in a way, to feel that so overtly instead of our typical strategy of shrugging and trying to ignore the discomfort.
There's no conclusion here- no comforting take away. We live in two worlds, and will continue to do so. This is our life and our career and we can't unsee our own experiences or our training. Instead we have to learn to live between.
-Shawn
