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It's everything I want to tell people when they make small talk and profound talk, but I often can't. Sickness, sex, and the process of dealing with aging parents feel unspeakable and sometimes unreachable, but they sure aren't here.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Scene from my Master's in Psych

Yes, I have that degree, and yes, I was a psychotherapist, for a while. Part of obtaining my degree was completing my practicum, which was a year of clinical work in a site of my choosing, with the grad program's blessing. I worked in an in-patient psychiatric hospital, where I learned two things about people generally: we are very fragile and very, very cruel. I was in touch with many grad students. Sometimes we had philosophical discussions. Sometimes I just got in someone's face and started barking. "That can't be normal." "'Normal'" is a word that we shouldn't be using because it implies a set standard of behavior, thereby allowing too many other types of behavior to be unfairly pathologized." "Okay. Is that fucked up then? Because I think that's fucked up."

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