As Vice-President of my University’s Counseling Psychology Student Organization, I had organized a “Life after the PhD” symposium with a handful of recent grads to recount their life since “The Program”, and to field questions from us self-important students.

The result was anything but confirming of our expectations. Reported were tales of managed care woes, hospital bureaucracies, and battles with social workers, peppered with platitudes of encouragement for our chosen field. Encouraging questions were greeted with veiled cynicism. They all looked and sounded burnt out.

After a post-mortem coffee hour that was notable in its brevity, I began cleaning up. But there was someone in the room still talking. It was a voice inside me saying, “Get out!”

*.......... *..........*

I discovered Psychology in the mid-1980’s, after collegiate stints in Communications (too easy), Business Administration (too dull), and even a summer semester at Strasberg’s Actors Studio (too silly). Here finally was a field that took a scientific approach to a fascinating aspect of existence: why we think, behave, and dream (that last one’s for you, Wyatt). I went to the Student Counseling Center to take the Strong Interest Inventory, after which the Clinical Psych intern regaled me with wonders of being a Psychologist, and gave me the APA Handbook “Careers in Psychology,” which made things look both glamorous and potentially lucrative. A visit with my academic advisor told me that she loved being a Psychologist because she got to teach, do therapy, conduct research, and frankly, liked having the PhD after her name.

I was sold. I changed my major. I loved Social Psychology, but figured that Clinical Psych would offer more career options. Hey, this could be the perfect job: a respected title, with the opportunity to do a variety of things from teaching to research to therapy to assessment. And good money with $100 an hour near-monopoly on therapy. Or so I thought.

So I started my 3-year journey into “Get into Grad School” limbo. I took an internship even though it was not required. I jumped on as a research assistant for some doctoral students. I did volunteer work at the Student Helpline. My Psych GPA was 3.8 and my GRE’s around 600. I applied to schools across the country.

The results? All rejections. I would not be deterred at this slap in the face. So upon graduation I took a job in the field of vocational rehabilitation in hopes of showing my “seriousness” to Clinical Psych programs. At $16,000 a year (1987 NY), this was less than any of my fellow alumni pals. It was here that I encountered the wonderful world of New York City Social Work, where antiquated psychodynamic theories and Masters-level folks from open admission programs trump any applied psychological science or advanced degreed professionals. The working conditions were like most mental health facilities: dilapidated and in need of funding. I left after one year with a resume entry.

I entered a Masters program in Clinical-School Psychology full-time to further show my “commitment.” I explored my interest in tests and measurements, and hope to transfer these credits into a future doctoral program.

While in this “holding pattern,” I hooked up with a professor after hearing her husband was a famous Yale Psychologist, and got a research assistantship at one of their institutes. This was good resume and recommendation fodder. I submitted to GRE re-torture after intense studying at Kaplan (with no change in results except a lighter wallet). I formed a campus chapter of Psi Chi and became president. I was ready for re-application to my “doctoral dream” and applied to Clinical and Counseling Psychology programs.

This time around I was committed to my future wife, so I only applied to programs in our NY-NJ-CT area. More importantly, I had discovered the wonderful world of Counseling Psychology, which promised, both in their published hardcover “Handbook,” and in their APA Division, of a specialty geared towards “healthy individuals and those in normal development distress.” Career counseling, stress management, and shorter-term more cog-behavioral counseling (NOT therapy!) were a Counseling Psychologist’s areas of expertise.

I ended up choosing the non-APA accredited Counseling Psychology program for these two reasons. Also knowing that they were in the accreditation process and this would carry over to my resume at a later date.

Upon entering the program it would not be long until I took a course in Rude Awakening 101. I realized these wonderful Counseling Psychology ideals I had gazed upon were the playground for academics without a firm occupational corollary. While the faculty (none of whom practiced and whose qualifications made me think it would be easy to get a faculty appointment) espoused their virtues, Counseling Psychologists in practice were doing clinical psychology to make a living, and clinical psychologists were augmenting with career assessment and counseling with no training in the subject. And forget ethics: I remember one professor teaching us what diagnostic categories to make up in order to get reimbursement! I had chosen a “Clinical Psychology Lite” profession regardless of what the APA Division and booklets were touting.

This all would make my choice of a non-APA accredited program seem even more disastrous. But actually it was this choice that saved me from a life of disappointment in the long run. You see my program, not being APA accredited, attracted older students, nearly all of whom still worked as teachers, counselors, social workers, and nurses. Not the cream of the academic crop nor well-read, it was through them that I realized how the “real world” of clinical/counseling/school psychology operated and who was “manning the machinery.”

It was not pretty. It was not intellectually stimulating. It was frustrating. There was a general cynicism and a focus on “disease” and “weaknesses.” They all wanted to be “therapists,” but not applied scientists of psychology. Cognitive and behavioral techniques were not the norm. And because they associated with other mental health professionals, and because of their own “stuff,” they assumed everyone, and I mean everyone, was an Adult Child of “something” from a Dysfunctional “system.” My enthusiasm for a career as a Psychologist was notably curbed.

I decided that my best area for “doing Counseling Psychology” would be where it originated: the College Counseling Center. I did all my practicums in this setting. It was fulfilling. But by the time I applied for internship, I was out of touch with the job market. I remember telling my wife (who had maturely chosen a vocational-based major in order to earn a real living and had thus been supporting us for the past few years) that I wanted to be Director of a College Counseling Center someday. The interchange over that weekend was the turning point in my life as reality slapped its cold wet hand in my face: