I was only 100 hours away from finishing my registrar program to be endorsed as a clinical psychologist when I confessed to my clinical supervisor:
“I don’t think I can do this anymore. I want to quit being a psychologist.” The pressure of clinical work was all too much. But let’s start at the beginning, a few years before that confession. Now, burnout is an experience all too familiar to psychologists, particularly early career psychologists. The insurmountable weight of emotional involvement, the pressure to provide “effective” therapy, and the complexity of cases can lead to a sense of fatigue and sometimes even disillusionment. I was no stranger to this experience. Just a few months into my clinical registrar program, working in a group private practice, I found myself teetering on the crispy edge of burnout. With what felt like the weight of the profession on my shoulders, I began to question my career choice. The disconnection from the passion that once drove me was almost too much to bear. In a bid to relieve some of the pressure, I went into solo private practice. At least then, I could practice in a way that worked for me.
How could I work as both a psychologist and a creative? At the heart of my issue was a paralysing fear of stepping out of my traditional clinical role as a psychologist. I feared potential repercussions, repercussions from my peers for doing work that was wildly different from what my university degrees were in. I also feared repercussions from the psychology institution. This internal conflict made me feel like a tug-of-war rope being pulled in too many directions. I was trying to balance both worlds without breaking apart.
Psychodynamic psychotherapy played an equally supportive role. It helped me explore the underlying causes of my anguish, and the deeper, unconscious conflicts that were contributing to my struggles. I discovered that my fear of being a regulated professional was actually a manifestation of an unconscious fear of authority.
Supervision and therapy helped me to see this internal conflict had latched onto my professional identity as a psychologist because it felt safer than confronting the real, underlying fear. As I faced that underlying fear, my inability to see a future in the profession lifted. With space to think outside of myself, I then wondered how many other professionals were in similar situations. Turns out, there are many health professionals with non-clinical or creative businesses. Many were also silent about their non-clinical ventures for similar reasons to me.
With grief in my heart, I wished I had known how many other professionals were doing non-clinical or creative stuff at the start of my journey. It would have made holding the two jobs and two professional identities that much easier.
File under: A Day in the Life of a Therapist, Musings and Reflections
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“I don’t think I can do this anymore. I want to quit being a psychologist.” The pressure of clinical work was all too much. But let’s start at the beginning, a few years before that confession. Now, burnout is an experience all too familiar to psychologists, particularly early career psychologists. The insurmountable weight of emotional involvement, the pressure to provide “effective” therapy, and the complexity of cases can lead to a sense of fatigue and sometimes even disillusionment. I was no stranger to this experience. Just a few months into my clinical registrar program, working in a group private practice, I found myself teetering on the crispy edge of burnout. With what felt like the weight of the profession on my shoulders, I began to question my career choice. The disconnection from the passion that once drove me was almost too much to bear. In a bid to relieve some of the pressure, I went into solo private practice. At least then, I could practice in a way that worked for me.
Exploring a Non-Clinical Business
Unfortunately, the relief from burnout was fleeting. In another desperate bid, I explored a non-clinical creative venture. This creative detour in writing allowed me to show up as my full self, not having to hold back aspects of my personality and mask as a “professional.” The creative work also rekindled my love for helping others in a different capacity. As I helped businesses find their writing voice, I started to find mine again. Just as I thought I had found the answer in creative work, a new challenge emerged.How could I work as both a psychologist and a creative? At the heart of my issue was a paralysing fear of stepping out of my traditional clinical role as a psychologist. I feared potential repercussions, repercussions from my peers for doing work that was wildly different from what my university degrees were in. I also feared repercussions from the psychology institution. This internal conflict made me feel like a tug-of-war rope being pulled in too many directions. I was trying to balance both worlds without breaking apart.
The Importance of Supervision and Therapy
Thankfully, clinical supervision and my own psychotherapy were stabilising forces throughout this inner turmoil. Supervision provided an open space to explore my fears, rage, and uncertainties without being shut down. My supervisor’s questioning led me to realise it was possible to have the two roles without compromising my professional integrity.Psychodynamic psychotherapy played an equally supportive role. It helped me explore the underlying causes of my anguish, and the deeper, unconscious conflicts that were contributing to my struggles. I discovered that my fear of being a regulated professional was actually a manifestation of an unconscious fear of authority.
Supervision and therapy helped me to see this internal conflict had latched onto my professional identity as a psychologist because it felt safer than confronting the real, underlying fear. As I faced that underlying fear, my inability to see a future in the profession lifted. With space to think outside of myself, I then wondered how many other professionals were in similar situations. Turns out, there are many health professionals with non-clinical or creative businesses. Many were also silent about their non-clinical ventures for similar reasons to me.
With grief in my heart, I wished I had known how many other professionals were doing non-clinical or creative stuff at the start of my journey. It would have made holding the two jobs and two professional identities that much easier.
***
Returning to psychotherapy, I felt like I had come home. But this time, home felt like a space where I could be open, confident, and creative. For the past few months, I’ve had my biggest caseload with the most complex patients, and I am nowhere near that crispy shell of a therapist I once was. I can now channel my angst into my creative work, and as a result, I have a newfound flexibility and creativity in my therapeutic practice.
Sitting back on my supervisor’s couch with only a few hours left in my program, I reflect on my initial confession of wanting to quit psychology. I now see that it wasn’t about the profession, but about finding a way to integrate all aspects of myself.
File under: A Day in the Life of a Therapist, Musings and Reflections