Psychology Major

Hello All. I'm coming to you tonight/this morning, at work, looking out the window on my study break. Indeed, I am a psychology major, in the hopes of becoming a psychologists, or some type of equivalent therapist in an effort to help people release the burden of their minds. I remember very early on, when we were all in high school discussing what we wanted to major in, psychology was the last one I stuck with. Prior to this one, I wanted to be an OB-GYN, which would require me to major in whatever field covers that. I thought about it, felt like I'd get overwhelmed by vagina and the such, and had an interest in advertising. The advertising never really panned out the way it should, because I didn't give it much thought. I would assume that I said that only because of my growing interest in how comical (and stupid)commercials had become at that time. Between advertising and journalism, I developed an interest in psychology. I don't know my exact reasoning for choosing psychology; I feel it may have had something to do with a movie I was watching and enjoyed the atmosphere the job provided (not sick people, but the office, the couch, and the respect). Very early on, I would always hear the joke about how psychology majors are, themselves, crazy. I never actually denied the truth that that statement held, I just wouldn't use the word "crazy" (prominently because in my high school psychology class, we weren't allowed to). I will definitely agree with the fact that, at least in my case, there are some underlying reasons for studying psychology. I mean, think about it, I'm in college to study the study of the way people think, feel and act (pretty much). For those that know me, you know right away that I am the first to tell you that I'm not even a people-person. I've lost out on job opportunities for making that fact clear. But my general interest in psychology, even before helping my family, friends, and others in need, is to really help myself. I feel like I've been in a transitional period since the age of 15 or 16; just trying to find answers to different questions I have and come up with some sort of answer to who I truly am. I guess to say that, would be for me to also say that I wanted to find out what was wrong with me. I don't necessarily have a specific reason why I don't like people, or why I'm angry all the time, or why I choose to keep to myself more often than not, but that's just how I am. I've grown to believe these things as normal . . . until I'm in an atmosphere such as school where everyone seems to have the best times as long as everyone else is present. I've grown to respect people who accept themselves for who they are, and refuse to change just because it's recommended, but I've also grown to respect people who recognize that they have a problem and feel it's time to somehow correct it. I'm somewhere in between.


So with my underlying need to figure out who Jeron is (mostly, I'll never completely understand all the dimensions of myself, nor anyone else for that matter), I also wanted to primarily help my family. One of the major things I learned when I went to therapy was that I needed to feel comfortable with whoever I talked with. I couldn't just open myself up the way I did unless I felt the person listening genuinely had an interest in helping me feel better. Luckily for me, I had someone like that. She was caring, and really wanted to know how I felt, no matter how I felt. She made me feel like she was on my side, and gave words of encouragement to go by. She didn't recommend large quantities of medicine, she didn't make me feel small, or trivialize my problems. Actually, she didn't make it feel like therapy at all. That had to be the most comfortable chair I've sat in since actually. So, overall, it was a good experience for me. I'm actually thinking about going back, for among other reasons, I feel I learned more about my career from our short interactions than I will in reading any of these textbooks. My drive to be a therapist now is based on a story my mom told me about her experience with psychologists, and hospitals and what-not. She told me how every time she'd go, the person she'd talked to previously was no longer there. So she'd have to start over each time with someone different, and really never getting to the root of her problems. That really hurt me, one because it's my mother, and two, because as someone who wishes to be a member of the profession, I was ashamed at the lack of care and attention that was paid to her. I don't think people should be treated as a "job", or a "case", or an "appointment" or anything like that. With the stigma placed on people by society to even reach-out to receive help, it takes a certain amount of strength to even admit that there's a problem. So, to get over that initial hump of admitting help was needed, then going to people who didn't look at the situation as more than her name next on the sign-in sheet, I was ashamed. So now I'm determined to right the wrongs of that particular hospital, or institution. It's up to me to make sure that my patients feel comfortable enough with me to allow me to attempt to help them. It's important to me to make sure that once people leave my office they understand that they weren't just additions to my paycheck, but that their health and safety was my main concern. It's vital to me to do right by these people because I've been at points where I had no help, or I was too embarrassed to asked for it, and now I think about where I'd be if I didn't receive any. It's very ironic also, because in my quest to help these people, I'm also given the chance to learn more about myself each day, which is why I major in psychology in the first place.


Until next time people, don't be a failure, ask for help. I got you!