BLOODY HELL, I MADE IT!
BLOODY HELL, I MADE IT! I did it, I made it into the Counseling Psychology Master’s Program! Not only that… in a very competitive institution. I mean, it’s not Harvard but I sure
as hell didn’t think I was going to get in, which is the point of this blog post. I feel like God,
the Universe, Buddha, Tarot cards,Taylor Swift, whatever you choose to or not to believe in, just taught me a swift life lesson, no pun intended. Let’s start from the beginning.
I studied marketing, that is my bachelor’s. However, after an existential crisis, I decided that I wanted to help people in a more intimate and intricate manner; I decided I wanted to change my path (purposefully this time). So, I made the bold decision to start looking at institutions in Puerto Rico where I could get my master’s degree in Counseling Psychology. The first obvious and grand choice was... let’s call it Hogwarts University. Unfortunately, I was way too insecure to apply. I mean, it’s Hogwarts fucking University. Psychology is what they do (that sounds off) and I didn’t believe I was… good enough. This sounds very cheesy and I’m gagging, but it's true. So instead, I decided to apply to… let’s call it Durmstrang University (damn meat heads!). I put myself through a traumatizing experience where I ended up questioning my worth, not only as a student but also as a human being. If you wanna know more, read “Hey, I’m not dead.” But in a nutshell, they blew up my disability and made it seem like it would be, yet again, a burden. My intellectual capacity didn’t matter. All of my life accomplishments didn’t matter. What I wanted to do with my master’s degree DID.NOT.MATTER. They treated me like shit, and I started to believe that I was, because if a program that’s based on observing the reasoning and the development of cognition while communicating empathy and open mindedness didn't think I was enough, what in the Draco Malfoy netherworld have I been doing for the past 25 years. I mean, this is what I do: I observe, I think, and unfortunately, I sometimes judge (meh, but I’m open minded when I do.) Spoiler alert: I didn’t get in, making me think to myself “we’ve come so far, we might as well get rejected from a school that’s worth our time.”
So, I applied to Hogwarts, took some prerequisites, and managed my new PTSD from the violent rejection. I don’t think I’ve ever been that nervous before. I felt like crying the whole week prior to the interview. If you just looked at me, I would burst into tears. After this, I’m sure my wedding day will be a piece of treacle tart (I’m really having fun with these references.) The day of the interview, I decided to dress the part. I’m not saying I didn’t for the first interview; I just leaned toward looking approachable the first time, like I thought was the appropriate thing to do. The second time around, however, I dressed myself as a full-blown professional…with a GLOW twist. We're talking nude ankle boots, black leather fitted pants, black turtleneck, and a nude cropped chiseled-shoulder blazer. What can I say? This is important to me.
I felt so comfortable. More importantly, they made me feel comfortable. The Admissions Department people made sure everything in the process was accessible. The questions that were asked were very much relevant to the field. And I felt encouraged to be myself. There was absolutely no talk about what I can and cannot physically do. They were evaluating me on my cognitive potential and my ambition. You could feel the empathy in the air. Which is the whole point of the profession, being empathetic, open minded, and kindhearted. Have you ever left a date and thought “damn, this went well”? That’s exactly how I felt after this interview. And the magical part (back to the wizard puns), they felt the same; I could feel the excitement when the head of the Department called and said I got accepted with one of the highest scores. “Glow, it’s sounds like you’re gloating.” That just shows that “you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon” (thank Hermione Granger for that one.) I’m not gloating, I’m healing myself.
Here is the centaur glittered-shit that people call the moral of the story. I think this happened for a reason. If not, then I’m glad it did. That’s right, I’m glad; I am glad I got morbidly depressed (no, that’s not the clinical term; this isn’t Medline Plus, don’t quote me.) The reason I’m glad is because I had to hit rock bottom to see that, ironically, I was the one undervaluing myself. It wouldn’t have happened if I had recognized my potential from the beginning. I would have just applied to Hogwarts. Having said that, I’m now applying this life lesson to all aspects of my life. From now on, I am not questioning my worth, I am questioning yours. From now on, I am not questioning whether I am (or not) worthy enough to be in your program; instead, I am questioning whether (or not) your program is worthy of me. From now on, I am not questioning whether I am (or not) worthy of your love and affection; instead, I am questioning whether you are (or not) worthy of mine. From now on, I am no longer questioning whether (or not) I deserve proper medical fucking treatment; instead, I am questioning whether (or not) you are a good fucking doctor to begin with. Because, from now on, I’ll be seeing myself as The Boy Who Lived.