Clerkship Craziness

Yesterday morning was the first time since I started graduate school that I actually questioned whether or not I should continue with the doctorate program at Fuller. At about 9:20AM, I received a phone call from the one clerkship site I had been able to apply for (the Semel Institute at UCLA), and was told that all their positions had been filled.

I hung up the phone, and instantly, everything I had poured into the last three years--the extra time spent in the lab, the hours devoted to grading papers and preparing lectures, the commute to and from the hospital for the last 8 months, the time and effort I'd invested at my assistantship, not to mention all the work involved with classes and research--felt like an enormous waste of time and energy. All the insecurities that I had been holding at bay for the last several years suddenly came flooding back. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't hard-working enough. Why did I ever think I had what it takes to make it through a doctoral program?

But then, as I felt myself starting to fall apart, I also felt the love of those around me holding me up and keeping me together. As I called my parents to tell them the bad news, I had a flashback of when I was in eighth grade and brought home a "D" in English for never turning in my work, and my dad holding me telling me it wasn't the end of the world.

So I think yesterday, I reverted back to being a 13-year-old girl who needed to be told that everything was going to be okay. And I am lucky enough to count on both hands the number of people in my life who were there to do that for me when I really needed it, through sitting with me, phone calls, texts, and e-mails. How awesome is that? Sometimes I can't believe how blessed I am.

I should end this post by informing the reader that two hours after that phone call from the Semel Institute, I received a call from Harbor-UCLA Medical Center and was offered a position in their neuropsychological ambulatory clinic. I was shocked because when I had first applied to Harbor in February, I wasn't even offered an interview and I was pretty disappointed. So of course, I accepted.

I think I'm still processing everything that happened yesterday, so I don't really have a concluding statement for this post yet. For now, I can say a whole-hearted "thanks" to the people who helped me through this craziness, and that my confidence is a lot less shaky than it was yesterday morning. I just need to breathe for a little bit now...

Silly Moments at Practicum

Scenario 1: I am just about to complete an intake evaluation with a new patient, who thus far has not endorsed any symptoms of clinical significance and seems to be adjusting well to his hospitalization.

Psychology Student: So Mr. X, unfortunately, our session's just about to end. Anything else you wanted to talk about today?

Mr. X: Actually, yes. There is one thing that has been bothering me...

Psychology Student: Oh? What is that?

Mr. X: Well, those little green guys that come into my room every night right before I go to sleep. Where do they come from? How do I make them go away?

Psychology Student: (uncomfortable silence) What? well, um....uh....

Mr. X: HAAAAA---hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

Psychology Student: Dangit!

(I really did say "dangit" outloud--couldn't hold it in.)

Scenario 2: During a session, I am talking with a couple of patients about how their appetites have been as part of a screener for depressive and/or anxiety symptoms.

Mr. Y: The food's okay.

Mr. Z: The food's terrible. Hey, could you bring us some Kentucky Fried Chicken? That's the only way my depression is gonna go away.

Psychology Student: Well, what's on the hospital menu today?

Mr. Y: Some pasta or something...

Mr. Z: You want me to feel better, right? That's your job!

Psychology Student: Is it?

Mr. Z: I don't need no therapy. I need me some chicken and mashed potatoes. Mmm..that sounds GOOD.

Psychology Student: I'm not getting you chicken.

Mr. Y: Give her a break, she's just a student!

Mr. Z: I know! That's why I thought I could get her to buy me some KFC!

Nice try, Mr. Z.

Chinese Opera at the Dinner Table

Dad's stories at the dinner table usually involved creating sound effects by hitting a wooden spoon against an array of glasses, metal bowls and pots of various sizes. These sounds were meant to imitate the gongs and cymbals used in traditional Chinese theater.

Hence, the stories would go something like this:

"Once upon a time, there was a boy named ______." boing!

"One day, he overslept, and realized he was late for class, so he jumped out of bed and he ran as fast as he could to school." gong-gong-gong-gong-gong (the sound of feet running)

"On his way to school, it began to rain." ping...ping...ping...ping (softly falling rain)

"Then, it began to thunder!" CRASH (thunder)

"...and then the rain began to pour!" ping-ping-ping-ping (more raindrops) CRASH, CRASH (more thunder)

And so on and so forth. We loved it.

When you try to make everybody happy, somebody always ends up paying.

Modernism fails again!

"The Western empirical, materialistic tradition of science takes the stance that if something cannot be observed and measured it does not exist. To study the full range of consciousness, this archaic and human-centered view must give way to the possibility that the range of reality extends beyond ordinary human sensory-perceptual experience" (p. 449).

I'm excited about this quote because, it's not from a theology or philosophy book--it's from my (secular) neuropsychology text.

Zillmer, E. A., Spiers, M. V., Culberson, W. C. (2008). Principles of Neuropsychology. Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadworth.

: )

Projectives

This is a chalk on canvas piece called "Bust of a Woman" by Picasso. We discussed it in class today, and I was struck by the diversity of the interpretations it received from my classmates. Some saw this woman as being seductive and others saw her as being afraid. While some saw her hand gesture as one of strength and confidence, others saw it as one of defensiveness.

As I began to formulate my own interpretation, I started realizing how much of ourselves we project into works of art such as this, that are striking enough to provoke us, and ambiguous enough to force us to draw our own conclusions.

So, how do I see this woman, aside from what Picasso may have intended?

First, her gaze and her positioning (her body is centered to the left of the canvas) indicates to me that there is someone standing at her side, facing her. Her hand, the focus of piece, is rather masculine, and it divides the image in two--to the right is mostly shadow and darkness, and to the left, the softness of her shoulder, breast and arm is illuminated. Therefore, I see her masculine hand as obstructing the view of her softness, her vulnerability, from the figure on her left, who is off the canvas.

So, I suppose I see this woman as someone who is misunderstood. She is soft and feminine, but often, the first thing one notices about her is her masculine qualities (intellect, assertiveness, competitiveness, maybe?). Or perhaps, this image reflects the struggle of defining what it means to be a woman, given the striking juxtaposition of the masculine hand next to the soft shoulder. Or maybe this girl is guarding her vulnerability by using her masculinity as a shield. She doesn't want her softness to be seen.

See? It's a projective. : )

The Brotherhood of Man

This song by The Innocence Mission* has been haunting me:



In a time where so much mistrust has been fostered between nations, religious groups, and between people and their governments, in a economic system designed to promote the survival of the fittest of the fit, and within the Church where individuals are feeling increasingly isolated--let's get some "brotherhood" going.

Christina

*I first heard it as part of the soundtrack to the short film, "Weathered," directed by Matt Barber and Matthew S. Webb. Great movie, if you ever get the chance to see it.