Page 44 of Broken Dream
“I guess I never thought of it that way. I mean, I think I understand myself just fine. But I’ve never been through any trauma, really. Not like some of the people in our family have.”
“True. And be thankful for that.”
“I am.”
She pauses before continuing. “But that doesn’t mean you know yourself, Angie. Not as deeply as you need to in order to help others understand themselves. It’s not just about experiencing trauma. It’s about understanding the human psyche. The highs and lows, the joys and sorrows, the fears and hopes. And that starts with understanding yourself.”
A silence hangs over us for a moment. Is that what I’m missing? A deeper understanding of myself?
“Do you think I can do it?” I ask finally.
“I believe you can,” Aunt Melanie says. “You’ve always been empathetic, Angie. That’s one of the key traits in this field.”
“But empathy isn’t enough, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. Empathy allows you to feel what others are feeling, but understanding requires more than that. You need to analyze those feelings and come up with patterns—patterns that help you understand how human minds work.”
“And how do I do that?”
“By studying psychology, of course. By talking to people, by observing them. Read about their experiences, immerse yourself in new situations. See how you react.”
“I took a lot of psychology in college for my major. I would have taken even more, but the pre-med course requirements ate up the bulk of my schedule.”
“Psychiatry is a different discipline anyway,” she replies. “Psychology is the study of human behavior. Psychiatry is the practice of treating mental illness. They’re two sides of the same coin, but they don’t exactly overlap.”
I rub the side of my head with my free hand. “So what you’re saying is that I have to learn how to treat mental illness as well?”
“That’s a given, of course. That’s what psychiatry is. But more than that, you need to be willing to dive deep into your own mind and understand how you react to things. Only then can you begin to understand how others might be feeling.”
I sigh heavily into the phone. “That sounds complicated.”
“It is,” Aunt Melanie says with a soft chuckle. “But that’s what makes it so fascinating.”
“Fascinating…” I echo her words, but my mind is going in circles trying to comprehend the enormity of what lies ahead.
“And remember this,” she continues. “A psychiatrist isn’t just a doctor who prescribes medicines. We delve into the unconscious, understand the past and present of a person. We seek to change the course of their future. It’s a heavy responsibility. We don’t just heal. We understand.”
“Understand…” I echo.
“And that’s only the tip of the iceberg, Angie. You’re going to learn so much more. Our job is not just to understand them but to help them understand themselves.”
A light bulb shines above me then. “And I can’t help them understand themselves without first understanding myself.”
“Bingo,” she says. “It’s a lifelong journey, and it’s not always pretty. God knows I discovered some things about myself along the way that didn’t exactly thrill me.”
“How?” I ask. “I guess I always thought of myself as pretty normal.”
“Normal is a relative term,” she says. “We are all complex beings made up of experiences, emotions, and thoughts that shape us into who we are. And believe me, when you start digging deeper into your psyche, you might uncover aspects about yourself that you never knew existed.”
I swallow hard. “How did you do it, Aunt Melanie?” I ask. “How did you dig deep?”
“It wasn’t easy. It took time. It took patience. And it took courage.”
“Courage?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“Yes. Courage to face the truth about myself—the good, the bad, and the ugly.”
The line goes quiet for a moment as I let her words sink in.
