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A new decade is upon us (actually, there’s always a new decade upon us, but you know what I mean), and I have been debating when I wanted to write this. Do I write it this now, January 2, 2020? Should I wait until I have secured a postdoctoral position, so I can speak with some certainty about my future? Do I wait until I have defended my doctoral paper? Perhaps, I wait until graduation in August?

Part of my hesitation when I decide to discuss my experience this past decade comes from not knowing where it will all end up. It could be embarrassing to discuss my accomplishments and my growth without knowing if I will even have a job at the end of this year. Of course, this hesitation and concern about embarrassment comes from self-doubt. Self-doubt, I would say, was the theme of my 2019. Self-doubt was not something I really felt in the past 10 years. Of course, I have had my fair share of doubt, concerns, and butterflies in my stomach. However, I have always felt that I could accomplish anything I attempted because I have always worked hard enough to get what I want. I have also been careful and aware of my limitations because I am also realistic. I have not heard the word “no,” all that much in my life. I know how that sounds, just keep reading. Of course, I have been told no when I asked for an extra cookie or for McDonald’s when we (I) did not have McDonald’s money. But, I have not been told no when I asked for something I worked hard for. Sometimes, I was told, “well, I have this other thing you would be great at.” Maybe I did not get the lead role in a musical, but I got to be a second lead. Perhaps I did not get to live where I wanted, but I always ended up with a roof over my head. I had scholarships in college. I got jobs to pay for my room and board. I graduated from college a year early at age 20 with a high GPA because I said I could. I had about 6-8 jobs while I was in college because I said I could.

I applied for and got into Master’s programs for Forensic Psychology because I said I could. I graduated with my Master’s Degree in 2016 at the age of 23. I worked two jobs while I was in my Master’s program and maintained a high GPA. I got applied for and got into PsyD’s programs. I started groups, completed countless hours of school work, clinical work, side jobs, and GTA positions. Of course, I did not always get the field placement position I wanted and I had some bumps along the way. However, the most part whenever I wanted to do something, I was always told that I could. I had constant reassurance from friends, peers, professors, that I was a hard worker and that I could and have achieved and accomplished many things.

And then, 2019 rolled around.

Well, let’s go back to the Fall of 2018. Internship application season. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna match.” “You have absolutely nothing to worry about,” “You are going to the be the perfect fit for X site.”

Well-meaning, genuine words from people who truly care. I appreciated everyone’s kind words, but those words also fed anxiety. What if I did not match? What if I got my last pick!? I got invited for interviews, I got declined for interviews, I had multiple plane rides, hotels/Airbnb's, putting on my best face and playing the interview game. The day to submit rankings comes and goes. Anxiety continues to build. After you submit your rankings, everything is out of your hands, which is quite horrible if you are as Type A as I am.

Match Day.

We went to bed late the night before, and I did not sleep well. I laid in the bed in the hotel room in New York (we were presenting at a conference on Match Day, crazy, I know) staring at my phone. I decided I did not want to be near anyone else when I got the news, good or bad, so I got dressed and went to the gym. I was jogging on the treadmill and then it happened.

“Your APPIC Match Result.”

I stopped on the treadmill, stared at the email in my notification bar, and took a deep breath. Moment of truth, “Congratulations, you have matched!”

My heart jumped and sank at the same time. I sighed out of relief, I matched, I did it. Years of hard work, stacking clinical hours, building my CV, saving money, and advertising myself well in interviews all paid off… but it clearly was not enough. I did not get my first choice nor my second. Then it all came flooding back, “you’re going to perfect for X, site!” “I’m sure you’re going to get your first pick.” “They would be crazy not to pick you.” Well, clearly, you all (and I) were wrong. I was sad and defeated. Maybe I was not good enough. What does that mean? Was I wrong? Did I get the wrong idea from my interview day? Did that smile not mean what I thought it meant? That extra half hour in the interview, was it not a good thing? Also, why am I complaining? You should be happy. You matched, who cares?

I care.

I sent messages to the important people and packed up, ready to go back to my hotel room. Hopefully, we all matched. I practiced my smile and my response if anyone asked. I hoped people wouldn’t ask if I got my “first choice.” (Some people did). As I walked towards the hotel room, one of my friends was in the hallway on the phone, giving the good news to her family. She asks without asking, and I smile and say yes. This exchange happens a couple more times. Each time, I notice we all had the same smile on our faces. We were happy, we congratulated each other, we posted on social media, but something was still off. We got brunch, the day went on, we presented our poster, and went out for dinner and drinks after to celebrate. I think it was not until that night and part of the following morning that we all really were able to talk about being happy and frustrated as none of us got our top picks. I felt supported and validated that I was not the only one who felt this way. It was exactly what I needed at that moment. (Aside: this is also why I find having friends in your field is essential. No one truly gets what you go through unless they have gone through it. Other friends and family are obviously supportive and mean well, but it is just not the same). The rest of the weekend was great. We had a good time, no complaints. The entire internship process began filling the pot of self-doubt in 2019. That weekend is when the pot was more than half full.

The internship application process makes you ridiculously vulnerable. I wrote my autobiography, all of the reasons I want to be a psychologist (which for some people includes some traumatic experience), listed my hours, displayed all of my hard work to prove to you that I am worthy. I deserve to be here. I am a great “fit” for your site. Not only do I have put that in writing and send it off to 12-17 organizations, but I also have to do this performance for you and every other person I had to interview with over those two months. Toeing the line of vulnerable and professional for 35+ people in two months (and spending my own money to do it). In some respects, it is empowering and there is some validation in being able to sell yourself and really demonstrate how hard you have worked and how much you have learned. It also leaves you feeling drained, raw, and empty when it is all over. I was fortunate enough to match and still felt this way after; I can not even imagine how different it would have been if I did not match.

Part 1.