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“So, why did you choose psychology?” he asks. “Maybe I’m wrong, but you seemed to hate it. Every time I see you, which granted, has only been a couple of times, but you’re wearing that same pained expression. Is there anything about it that you actually like?” he asks.
“I like messing with people’s minds,” I offer. “Does that count?”
I’m surprised to hear him say that, because I really thought I had everyone fooled. Or maybe I’m just not as good at bullshitting as I think I am? I think some more about his question and then elaborate on my answer.
“I chose it as my major, because I had no idea what I wanted. And I do enjoy it, I’m just not sure if I enjoy it enough to be doing it in twenty year’s time,” I explain.
“So, do something else, then,” he says, looking at me like I’m crazy. “Seriously, I’ve never understood why people settle for something, when there’s so many other options.”
“With a psychology degree and not much else, what exactly are my options?” I tease. “And what if this turns out to be the better option anyway? Who really loves what they do all the time?” I add. “Do you?”
“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you,” he replies, smirking at me. “And bullshit you have no options. You have plenty of choices aside from this. The question is, what do you want?”
“That’s the problem,” I frown, thinking hard about it. “I don’t know what I want.”
It’s not like I haven’t considered doing something else, but I’ve invested so much time into this that the thought of doing something different is scary, especially when I don’t know what that is.
“Psychology felt like a safe bet, which is why I went with it.”
“But is safe always the better option?” he asks. “Is it safe to stick with something you’re going to resent in ten years-time, or is it smarter to change paths now?”
“Now, I guess, but I don’t want the last four years to have been wasted.”
“Sounds to me like you’re too scared to be honest with yourself over what you want,” Linton observes.
“Thanks for that assessment, Dr. Freud,” I tease. “Are you going to charge me for this session? And so what if I’m scared? Does it make me any less right?”
Linton sits forward and sighs as he adjusts his glasses.
“Let me try a different approach. Did you learn anything from your degree?” he asks.
“Yes,” I sigh, not sure where this is headed. “Of course I did.”
“Do you think what you learned could be put into other fields, outside of psychology?” he asks patiently.
“I guess so,” I nod.
“Then look at it that way,” he urges me. “Psychology is such a broad area of expertise, which means it can be applied into almost any field,” he says. “Let’s say you change your mind in five years and do something completely different. With a psych degree under you, how do you think you’ll compare to other applicants, when looking for a job?”
“I guess you make a good point,” I admit.
“I usually do,” he says with a wink. “Anyway, I better run. I have a group therapy meeting in a few minutes. They’re always a load of fun,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks for the talk. You actually helped.”
“Can you say that again and sound a little less surprised?” he teases.
My lunch break almost over, I dig through my bag for my phone when I remember a message from James, from earlier. The last conversation we had was this morning, before I went to work.
James: Okay, have fun at work. How’s the job going, by the way?
I’d briefly told him about it, but not enough detail that he could track me down. After the other guy turning up on the doorstep, I didn’t want to take the risk that I had another psycho on my hands. I was pretty sure he wasn’t, but you never really know. Especially with my luck.
Me: It’s great. Most of the time. Except when I hate it. I’m joking…kind of. At least I’ve made a friend, who is coincidentally into the furry scene for real.
James: I’m not shocked. It’s way more common than most people realize. What kind of things do you deal with there?
Me: Mainly things like drug induced psychosis, substance abuse, addiction, etc.
James: I used to have an addiction to eating soap.
Me: Really?
Yeah: but I’ve been clean for about a year.
I groan and choke back my laughter.
Me: That was a really bad joke.
James: Oh, I’ve got worse. Trust me.
The end of the day cannot come soon enough and as the second that clock hits five, I'm out of there. As I drive home, Linton's words keep rolling around in my head. He's right. If I'm ever going to decide to do something else, it should be now and not in ten years’ time. It’s actually kind of exciting, thinking about my future in a new light. I really can do anything.
