I made a promise to myself at eighteen- no child psychology.
I love children. I’ll call them ‘sprog‘ and ‘brats‘ in my mind and have unjust opinions about them and with this attitude you’d want to keep your little miracle away from me. But beneath whatever personality they’ve developed due to circumstance I love the child underneath. It’s cliché but their confidence and unmarred perceptions are beautiful before the real world decides to crush them and I feel ill equipped to be in a position where I might be complicit in that crushing. Continue reading “Child Psychology: Mother knows best?”
Someone pulls a knife on you. Do you imagine a dark street with a hooded figure emptying your pockets? Surely you don’t picture a colourful sunlit room with half a dozen tiny witnesses, the person on the other end of the knife a young boy. But that’s what happened five years ago at my summer internship. Continue reading “The little boy with the knife”
At surface level you picture psychologists working in cosy, cubic offices, with reclining plush couches to lay on and confess. People forget that psychologists are found in a myriad of social settings such as HR departments or as counselors within high schools.
Or in the walk in clinic of a cancer hospital. Continue reading “Everybody’s Dying: Working in a cancer hospital”