Last week, my newly found self-published author friends had a joint event at Estancia Mall organized by our publisher, PaperKat Books. My friends set up booths, sold their books, and had book signings and launches. It was a triumphant moment for all of them.
I went there to touch base with them. I told each of them how much I appreciate and admire their work and why. Also, I showed up to be inspired.
At the event, I met up with Kath, the showrunner of PaperKat Books. As you know, I have already completed and submitted the full manuscript for my first book. Kath told me we’re looking forward to getting it published in the next few months before my 44th birthday in June 2024.
The sun is on the horizon, barely peeking. I can almost see what the future will be like for me as an author.
There was a tarot reading at the event. For the record, I’m not a fan of supernatural things, nor do I seek out esoteric practices. But as a behaviorist who is familiar with the unconscious, I believe in the psychology behind tarot readings. Carl Jung, the renowned psychologist, explored tarot readings to peer into the unconscious. I agree that when you get your cards read, they reflect back to you hidden themes and patterns buried or unacknowledged.
You see, I have a dilemma, and I’m not sure I’m making the correct decision. When I feel lost, I tend to ruminate and watch TedTalk videos. But there is no substitute for human connection. Going to the book event helped me verbalize what has been troubling me recently.
It’s about the impending need to renew my license as a psychologist, which I got from the Professional Regulation Commission (PRC) of the Philippines. Previously, I’ve written about letting go of my license. I reasoned that a writer does not need a psychologist’s license. Additionally, I don’t enjoy engaging patients in psychotherapy. From my perspective, it seems like I’m not earnestly practicing my profession, so who gives me the right to uphold my Registered Psychologist (RPsy) status?
The Tarot card reading revealed three particularly meaningful cards: the Nine of Swords, the Hermit, and Death. The first card highlighted the anxiety and fear regarding my future identity, because it’s an uncharted territory, and there are many questions about how I’m supposed to navigate it. The second card symbolized the importance of self-examination needed to guide me toward the right decision. And, the last card, Death, revealed how self-limiting beliefs have prevented me from living my life to the fullest.
One of the reasons that deter me from retaining my status is the cumbersome Continuing Professional Development (CPD) points.
Just like any other professional with a valid license, I’m required to earn these CPD points by attending PRC-accredited seminars. However, as a person with disabilities (PWD) due to anorexia, face-to-face sessions are particularly challenging for me. And these trainings don’t come cheap either. In retrospect, this CPD obstacle is simply a rationalization. It’s actually a ‘how’ problem, not a ‘why’ problem. If I were determined to renew my license, I would find a way, come hell or high water.
My reluctance to renew my psychologist license boils down to low self-esteem. I don’t value myself much and distrust my capabilities. I feel myself unworthy of the role’s responsibilities, and reputation it entails.
But despite my hesitation, I found myself taking the initial steps in the process of license renewal.
It started when I discovered that unlike what I assumed, my license does not expire this year, but next year, 2024. In the company I work for, I was tasked to be the wellness-in-charge. If it weren’t for my boss’ prodding, I wouldn’t even have bothered to glance at my PRC card.
Now that I’ve decided to renew, after all, I look back on the struggles I overcame to earn that license. Who do I see? I see a person who spent more than a year self-studying and reviewing to prepare for the exam. This person passed on the first try, despite being six years into a ten-year stint as a full-time mom and having no job. She worked so hard to pass the board exam, and clinching it was a significant accomplishment. I shouldn’t take this prize from her. I am honoring this person. She was brave, she was daring. I think I love her.
Motherhood can be so absorbing, that you tend to forget who you are and what you can do.
Staring at the photo featured here where I’m seated with my fellow mentees and authors, I suddenly realize that PaperKat Books has accepted me, just like the Philippine Regulation Commission accepted me. I have a seat at the table, and I belong.
I am worthy to be a writer and a psychologist. I’m legit.
Nothing in the world can erase the fact that I passed the board exam. I may not have been a top placer, but who cares? If I’m average, then so be it.
I will show up in my own unique way, not the way that A would do it or B would do it. Because there is only one me. Even if I sing a different tune, I am a valuable member of the choir. My contribution will be appreciated and considered worthwhile.
I realize that I am insecure about joining PaperKat Books because I write nonfiction, and most of the authors write fiction. In the same way, I am insecure about my abilities as a psychologist because most therapists are empathetic and have superb interpersonal skills.
But I can’t change who I am or my creative expression. I can only be the authentic writer and psychologist that I am. I’ve decided to embrace my authentic self and show up as me, the only way I can. I believe that both the writing and psychology fields will find me valuable. One day, they will appreciate my work. They will want me on their teams because there’s room for diversity and talent like mine.
At the event, I met another psychologist who had been published. Her book was well-received, and meeting her was a revelation. My initial reaction was to want to compete with her, but that’s zero-sum thinking that I’ve resolved to rid myself of. She is on her journey, and I am on my own. We are running in different tracks, and comparing us is like comparing produce in an abundant fruit orchard.
Moreover, seeing the other psychologist-writer succeed made me painfully aware of my competitive tendencies. I questioned yet again the urge to compare and measure myself against others. Likely, it’s because of my insecurity and past emotional conditioning, which told me I would amount to nothing. But comparing oneself to others is a human tendency, and I shouldn’t be too hard on myself for that. It’s something that we all do, even if it’s self-punitive.
Rather, the existence of this successful person should remind me of my vast potential. Her success should inspire me to forge on and take up the fight again. It’s like when you’re lost and you see someone who has blazed the trail ahead of you, and you think, “Oh, that can be done?” You don’t necessarily have to follow in their footsteps, but you regain the courage, you regain the hope.
Now that I’m going to be a published author, I look at my multifaceted and multitalented peers in the publication group. We build each other up and shine in our respective professions because not all of us are exclusively writers. And in this first-rate group, I belong.
Sometimes, I stand in my own way. I must look myself in the mirror and appreciate the priceless person I see. She is worth her weight in gold.
Because what if as a one-of-a-kind psychologist who writes I can do what another person cannot? What if my qualities, instead of being a dichotomy of assets and liabilities, are a mélange of multicolored, complex interactions that help me produce something meaningful?
Maybe being me will set me free.
