I decided to become a psychologist when I was a freshman in college. I chose psychology as my undergraduate major, initially, as a non-traditional course of study before applying to law school. After the first semester, however, I was hooked. The subject matter was fascinating, and helping others work through challenging mental health conditions seemed like a good fit for my personality: I like to problem solve, I am intuitive, and I’m not afraid of a challenge. I dove into research projects, I wrote an honors thesis, and I applied to graduate school. Becoming a clinical psychologist involved an academic obstacle course of demanding classes, comprehensive exams, a dissertation, extensive clinical training, a one year internship, and a one year post doctoral fellowship. Passing a comprehensive national exam and meeting state licensure requirements rounded off the journey, and I was finally a psychologist.
I’ve never second-guessed my decision to become a psychologist. I have heard many people say they wish they had done something differently with their career, and I feel very fortunate to be satisfied and dedicated to my choice. I love seeing the healing process unfold as people discover how to face their past or develop skills to become mentally healthier and live more meaningful lives.
There are some challenges, however, about being a mental health professional. They might be different than what most people imagine, and it seems like a good time to mention them, after an extremely stressful year. The difficulties of being a mental health professional certainly did not start with the pandemic, but they have been exacerbated by it. There are a few truths about those of us working in mental health that everyone should know.
Sometimes, we have personal stressors or hard circumstances.
Mental health professionals typically don’t disclose much about our personal lives. Sometimes it’s necessary, if we have a family emergency, to reveal a bit of information. But we are not encouraged to share because our role is to help our clients navigate their problems, rather than burdening them with ours. I generally agree with this philosophy, but I think it’s worth mentioning that because we are also human and carry our own share of personal stressors, not every day of helping others is our best day. Sometimes, we have personal matters weighing heavily on our minds. It doesn’t take away our desire to listen or to be helpful. My mother died suddenly last April, and I had to contend with the grief while providing care to others during a scary time in our world. Having the opportunity to care for others was actually good for me because it gave me breaks from the persistent grief. Still, I struggled under the pressure to be fully present with my clients.
We make mistakes.
This is a hard statement to make, not only because I tend to be a perfectionist, but also because as a mental health professional, we feel pressure to always be right. People are paying us for services and they expect us to always have the right answers. Of course, it’s more complicated than that because our answers depend on the information we are given at the time. Some client matters are more complex than others, and they take longer to resolve. Giving us permission to change our minds, and giving us the benefit of the doubt may help us to serve clients better.
We can’t always be available to our clients.
I can’t speak for other mental health professionals, but I often feel pressure, from myself, to be constantly available when clients have a question or need to talk. Generally, this pressure doesn’t come from the clients, but rather from a combination of my anxiety about making sure I am serving them well, coupled with some societal expectations about mental health professionals. Technology has definitely increased this pressure, given that we can constantly check our email and text messages. I have developed good boundaries around not checking email after work, defining what a client emergency entails and the steps in responding to it, and helping clients understand the importance of boundaries. But I still occasionally hear my own voice reminding me to respond promptly.
Overall, 15 years of experience in private practice has allowed me to cope effectively with most of the pressures clinicians may feel. However, I think it’s important to be reminded that we aren’t made of steel, we aren’t always right, and we aren’t always available. Remembering that we, too, are human, in addition to our knowledge and training, will increase the emotional connection and empathy in between mental health professionals and our clients.
Photo by Eduard Militaru on Unsplash