Nearly There... When Peers Disappear
I took for granted all the peer support I have had since beginning my pre-licensed hours. I marvel at how I missed the wise minds and supervisors I had at my disposal since the beginning. Mind you, some supervisors were better than others for sure, but the wealth I stumbled upon evaded me until it grew less bountiful. As I’m nearing the end of these long, hard-earned 3000 hours, I notice an icy stillness and silence beginning to creep in.
At hour number one, it started out like a race. Sprinting as fast as you can to get away from the very beginning, hoping to outrun your shame of inexperience. I wanted to know more, do better, be the best. I had very little tolerance for mistakes or missteps. I needed to be seen as gifted. In order to do this, I had to seek out the flaws associated with my peers. Peers who were also running their own race, running away from their own inexperience. This is the conflict I created, I loved their support, their understanding, their likeness and yet at times I felt the need to devalue what they had to offer. Nevertheless, I needed them and I knew it.
Supervisors were hit or miss and I honestly did the same with them - sought out their flaws and often times took for granted their strengths. I did, however, stumble across a handful that were hard to discount - their wisdom and steadiness were much stronger than my ill-placed projections. I tried to hang onto them (internally and externally) as my relationships with each of them blossomed and subsequently ended.
As my hours chugged along, I tried not to count. 3000 is a big number. My peers would surprise me more and more. They had insights I missed, perspectives I lacked. In turn, they valued what I had to offer so my fight to avoid being seen as inept began to ease. There was less and less to fight. There was more to take-in. Moreover, they could hold my frustrations, my growing pains, and my exhaustion because they themselves struggled in kind. We began to lean on each other for support, love, and consultation. About half-way through, I began to realize that the markings of a great therapist is not their skill alone but their capacity to take-in the richness of other minds and other hearts.
As I write this, I have about 300 hours remaining. I have begun studying for my licensing exam. This growth process has been a roller coaster... it has been both relieving and disappointing, exceptional and terrifying. I am constantly arriving at a new place of my own growth, I still need the love and support of my colleagues and elders - many of whom seem to have fallen off the map... I reach out for consultation, peer support, referrals, etc. There's more and more silence in the wake of my efforts.
Naturally, I go to the only logical explanation: "It's me. They think I'm a terrible therapist and they don't want to associate with me." The other night, I spoke with a colleague of mine, and lovely therapist, over the phone; he maybe one of two peers who are consistently available and aren't evading contact in one form or another. After confirming that he too had been having the same experience (and subsequently the same thought process), I concluded that this may not be the result of the quality of my work or my person. So then what in the hell is going on? Are people busy; Overwhelmed; Anxiously attached; Uninterested; All of these things? Neither of us could really figure it out.
It's a hard phase. My learning hasn't slowed down at all and it requires me to throw myself into the pains of my own emotional growth. The only difference now is that I've accepted it as part of my process and do less to avoid it. But I feel like I'm constantly being turned inside-out. My emotional life in often in a state of upheaval because I wholly believe that the demand psychotherapy places on a patient is the very demand we must expect from ourselves if we are to perform and give. My heart is being broken time and time again to be rebuilt and re-birthed. Recently, I had a supervisor point out the subtle and unconscious rage that was deeply seeded behind many of my poignant interventions. I immediately recognized it and felt its aim to prevent a powerful helplessness that stems from my own traumas. I collapsed into a nearly month-long grief; grief that my rage was protecting me from. I felt my soul drop down to the earth and cried for days. I cried for my inner child, I cried for my father who has long since passed, and I cried for my own children. Upon crying my way through to the other side, I found I felt more easeful in my work, less pressure to perform, more presence, and an improved ability to find myself in each session without knowing and without desire. I felt more compassion for others, less judgement. But where were my friends? Where were my peers? Where were my elders? I find there are fewer and fewer people to guide you through these growing pains... but I feel I need them just as much as ever.
I heard people warn me about a loneliness that can follow a licensed clinician, especially if they venture into private practice. I suspect it's a strange overlapping of self-inflicted isolation: staying busy; hustling to make money; continued learning; and expanding your brand (yourself). I also suspect an amnesia of the very thing we're designed for and encourage in others - interpersonal connection guided by authenticity and vulnerability. I can have compassion for this plight but still feel strongly that we need each other. I know life gets tight and time is scarce. I've got two kids under age three, I'm at the tail-end of my hours, I'm studying for my exams, I'm working two jobs... If I am reaching out, it helps to consider that I have located the resources within my day to think of you and try to reach you because in one way or another, I value you as a clinician and friend. At the end of the day, we are stronger together.
At hour number one, it started out like a race. Sprinting as fast as you can to get away from the very beginning, hoping to outrun your shame of inexperience. I wanted to know more, do better, be the best. I had very little tolerance for mistakes or missteps. I needed to be seen as gifted. In order to do this, I had to seek out the flaws associated with my peers. Peers who were also running their own race, running away from their own inexperience. This is the conflict I created, I loved their support, their understanding, their likeness and yet at times I felt the need to devalue what they had to offer. Nevertheless, I needed them and I knew it.
Supervisors were hit or miss and I honestly did the same with them - sought out their flaws and often times took for granted their strengths. I did, however, stumble across a handful that were hard to discount - their wisdom and steadiness were much stronger than my ill-placed projections. I tried to hang onto them (internally and externally) as my relationships with each of them blossomed and subsequently ended.
As my hours chugged along, I tried not to count. 3000 is a big number. My peers would surprise me more and more. They had insights I missed, perspectives I lacked. In turn, they valued what I had to offer so my fight to avoid being seen as inept began to ease. There was less and less to fight. There was more to take-in. Moreover, they could hold my frustrations, my growing pains, and my exhaustion because they themselves struggled in kind. We began to lean on each other for support, love, and consultation. About half-way through, I began to realize that the markings of a great therapist is not their skill alone but their capacity to take-in the richness of other minds and other hearts.
As I write this, I have about 300 hours remaining. I have begun studying for my licensing exam. This growth process has been a roller coaster... it has been both relieving and disappointing, exceptional and terrifying. I am constantly arriving at a new place of my own growth, I still need the love and support of my colleagues and elders - many of whom seem to have fallen off the map... I reach out for consultation, peer support, referrals, etc. There's more and more silence in the wake of my efforts.
Naturally, I go to the only logical explanation: "It's me. They think I'm a terrible therapist and they don't want to associate with me." The other night, I spoke with a colleague of mine, and lovely therapist, over the phone; he maybe one of two peers who are consistently available and aren't evading contact in one form or another. After confirming that he too had been having the same experience (and subsequently the same thought process), I concluded that this may not be the result of the quality of my work or my person. So then what in the hell is going on? Are people busy; Overwhelmed; Anxiously attached; Uninterested; All of these things? Neither of us could really figure it out.
It's a hard phase. My learning hasn't slowed down at all and it requires me to throw myself into the pains of my own emotional growth. The only difference now is that I've accepted it as part of my process and do less to avoid it. But I feel like I'm constantly being turned inside-out. My emotional life in often in a state of upheaval because I wholly believe that the demand psychotherapy places on a patient is the very demand we must expect from ourselves if we are to perform and give. My heart is being broken time and time again to be rebuilt and re-birthed. Recently, I had a supervisor point out the subtle and unconscious rage that was deeply seeded behind many of my poignant interventions. I immediately recognized it and felt its aim to prevent a powerful helplessness that stems from my own traumas. I collapsed into a nearly month-long grief; grief that my rage was protecting me from. I felt my soul drop down to the earth and cried for days. I cried for my inner child, I cried for my father who has long since passed, and I cried for my own children. Upon crying my way through to the other side, I found I felt more easeful in my work, less pressure to perform, more presence, and an improved ability to find myself in each session without knowing and without desire. I felt more compassion for others, less judgement. But where were my friends? Where were my peers? Where were my elders? I find there are fewer and fewer people to guide you through these growing pains... but I feel I need them just as much as ever.
I heard people warn me about a loneliness that can follow a licensed clinician, especially if they venture into private practice. I suspect it's a strange overlapping of self-inflicted isolation: staying busy; hustling to make money; continued learning; and expanding your brand (yourself). I also suspect an amnesia of the very thing we're designed for and encourage in others - interpersonal connection guided by authenticity and vulnerability. I can have compassion for this plight but still feel strongly that we need each other. I know life gets tight and time is scarce. I've got two kids under age three, I'm at the tail-end of my hours, I'm studying for my exams, I'm working two jobs... If I am reaching out, it helps to consider that I have located the resources within my day to think of you and try to reach you because in one way or another, I value you as a clinician and friend. At the end of the day, we are stronger together.
Well said ! I totally agree and i'm glad your putting yourself out there. I feel community and connection are central to my stability in myself and my education, therefore, helping me as an integrated person show up for work. We're all in it together!!
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