Personal Narrative: I Am A Psychiatrist

At the occasional family gathering the talk was always about my career. I would tell them I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Of course, the immediate answer was, “like in a scary hospital? You can’t even talk to people” You’re going to go crazy!” They were convinced I wouldn’t be able to handle it because I have dealt with social anxiety for a long time and I would be brainwashed by the patients. Social anxiety ceased me from doing things I really wanted in the past; it was extremely hard for me to form relationships. However, I don’t let others tell me what I can’t do. I know I am a strong person and I don’t allow myself to become easily attached to people that confide in me, however still sympathize with them. I don’t let other people’s opinions or my anxiety get in the way of what I really want; to work on a case like Marnie Foster’s and scrutinize a mind like June

I am Simone Alexander. I have severe schizophrenia, but I take my medications regularly. I have been through a lot. Even in my condition, I still try to help out my community during the rough time I have been through. I care a lot about Hollywood, California, because I was raised here. I am such a high spirited, generous, and kind woman. I have been going through a 5 year hardship relationship with my on and off again boyfriend Lucas also known as Paw-Paw. Last night was horrific. The unthinkable was spoken. I was traumatized.

Thank you for the opportunity to apply to work as a research assistant at The Department of Psychiatry & Behavioral Sciences. Please accept this humble letter and accompanying application as an indication of my interest in applying to work as a research assistance-Psychiatry.

“The last thing I heard where the sirens. And the last thing I saw where a kaleidoscope of blue and red. And then everything went black, every ounce of air had escaped my lungs and had reached the surface of the lake in the form of little bubbles.” I told Louis Green, possibly the most boring person on earth. I don’t think he wanted to be my therapist anymore then I wanted to be in therapy.

As I await the therapist in the waiting room, my mind is racing, heart pounding, and palms sweating. I’ve been waiting for three years to meet with him, but of course, Dr. Johnson was completely booked until now. Each night I have been taunted with an atrocious dream and ready for the affliction to cease. Finally, he appears in the doorway and calls my name. Instantaneously, I stand up and shuffle behind the therapist to the cubicle.

Still till this day he hasn't got arrested or the detectives have not gave me updates . RIght now am doing very good i still go to therapy if didn't i think i would be a big mess.it has helped me alot i have become a better person it made see things different. I do sometimes have my bad days and weeks but i go thru them . it's hard for me to come to school every year since i told my parents . if we have a 3 day weekend it hard for me to come back to school and get used to the people .

“How can I be good again? I just lost my wife and son in a car accident. There's nothing in life that can cheer me up. I have become an alcoholic who is now jobless.” I said. My Therapist, Dr. Newman, told me “Trust me, Mr. Smith. Only time can heal your wounds if you allow it to. Well, that's the end of the session, and I want to recall the accident that occurred so we can talk about it tomorrow.”

I had such a great day at clinical yesterday. I was finally able to see a vaginal delivery and that entire process. When I arrived in the morning, the mom had just received Cytotec, to help induce labor and ripen her cervix. She was forty-one weeks and zero. Around ten thirty in the morning, she asked for her epidural to manage her pain. We bolused her with fifteen hundred milliliters of lactated ringers to prevent hypotension. Shane was the certified registered nurse anesthesiologist (CRNA) who administered the epidural. It was very cool watching him administer all the needed pain relief medication before he administered the epidural to make sure that it would be placed in the epidural space in the spine. Then administered a small test dose, waited till a few blood pressures were taken, then administered the remaining about through an epidural pump. After the epidural was administered, I was able to administer her foley catheter. I was so happy that I was finally able to place one. I learned a few tricks from Maura (my nurse) as well. She taught me that it was easier to take the top off of the lubricant syringe and to place the tip of the foley inside of the syringe, that way it will not wiggle around and become unsterile. She also taught me to grab from the bottom of the labia and pull up, that way it ensures that I will have a clear entrance to

Let’s face it, I was bonkers. Nutty, some would say. I was officially deemed crazy by stepping into Wellstone. I was batty like a mellowed out, teenage Charlie Sheen. Who knew that an honors student would be sent to a psychiatric hospital for depression amongst other things? I always kind of knew that is what I would end up doing. It has to get darker before it gets better, right? At least I had my “amazing” people skills that would end up helping nearly all of the staff like me and most of the patients despise me.

“I want to live.” She said. She lifted her feet off the small coffee table and set them gently on the floor as she continued to look through me, too interested on the inner workings of her own mind.

I have had multiple clinical practices, however, out of all the experiences during my shifts, there is one particular event that holds great meaning for me. This event happened on my fifth clinical day of this semester, which was the day I first dealt with two clients.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

The Job that I would love to have after I graduate college is becoming a therapist. I want

I feel that the following experiences will help me to become a much better person, to set the tone for my studies, and help me complete psychology. In 1993, I spearheaded a Quincy, Il. flood drive. It encompassed nine counties, including a huge shipment of food, water, and other supplies, which came from the National Guard. Pick up after pick up, came loaded, bearing the same thing. We collected everything you could think of, except for furniture. We had a huge number of cases of water, baby food, snacks, and medical supplies, like bandages, etc. I also gained the commission of a big rig to donate the entire trip to Quincy, which included the driver, fuel, everything from Anderson Trucking Service. I also enlisted the media in order to assist