On becoming a psychologist: A personal reflection
This time of year marks a pivotal moment for aspiring psychologists as they anxiously await offers for postgraduate psychology programs. While the demanding journey to becoming a medical doctor is generally recognised and depicted in popular media, the path to becoming a psychologist is less understood. In Australia, the title ‘Psychologist' is legally protected and can only be used by those who have completed an accredited sequence of study. Most psychologists undergo at least six years of training, with some adding more years if they study part-time or pursue a doctorate degree. There are different pathways to becoming a psychologist, and while I can’t speak to them all, I can share some of my own experience to offer insight into what it takes to sit in the chair across from you and ask, 'What brings you to therapy?'
Whether therapy is an art or a science remains a subject of debate. I pursued psychology through an Arts degree, while many of my peers chose Science. Among the 1,000 of us who attended lectures in our first year, we were told that fewer than 10% would secure a place in the fourth-year Honours program, and fewer still would progress to postgraduate training. Alongside learning about Pavlov’s dog and classical conditioning, it was also impressed upon us that the course was intentionally rigorous and designed to encourage attrition to weed out those who did not have the requisite attributes for further study and beyond.
Five years later, I reached my Honours year in psychology after taking a circuitous route, combining Creative Arts with an Arts degree and ending up with majors in visual media, psychology and criminology. By this point, I had set my sights on becoming a forensic psychologist only to discover just how competitive it would be – there were six places in the only pure forensic psychology doctorate in the country with an intimidating number of applicants well into the hundreds. I was told that strong candidates typically excelled in statistics, which did little to inspire confidence! Honours brought a new level of intensity, introducing a research project and thesis alongside the familiar written assignments and exams. That year, I studied harder than ever before.
Hoping to broaden my chances of being selected somewhere, like others I also applied for a number of postgraduate degrees. The interview for the Doctorate in Forensic Psychology was by far the most daunting. As I waited my turn, I met other applicants, some returning year after year to try again, having been told they needed more experience. When my name was called, I was seated at a small table, feeling marooned on an island surrounded by a sea of academics – there would have been close to ten in the room. My fate rested in their hands. They fired questions at me so quickly that the interview was over before it felt like it had even begun.
Including undergraduate years, we covered a broad range of subjects from psychopathology and behavioural neuroscience to law in social theory, ethics, research methods; as well as psychological assessment and intervention. The forensic doctorate included a formidably large research project and thesis, as well as professional experience as a provisional psychologist on placement working in settings such as a secure forensic mental health hospital, the Children’s Court Clinic, prison, community corrections and drug and alcohol treatment services. I also spent countless hours at train stations, community centres and at youth justice sites seeking research participants and interviewing them for a study about the intersection between developmental transitions and pathways toward and/or away from offending behaviour. While our peers had long finished their studies and were progressing their careers, we were still at university working as research assistants, teaching, in office administration or other entry level jobs.
In total, I accumulated thousands of unpaid hours on student placement. I developed a vitamin D deficiency from spending so little time outside, and the sheer amount of reading and writing strained my eyes to the point that I needed prescription glasses — an issue that resolved not long after submitting my thesis. We sacrificed time with friends and family, along with leisure, exercise, healthy eating and sleep. My research supervisor, who was also known as a musician, seemed to live the life of a night owl. Before a critical deadline, it was relieving to be able to send him a draft of my thesis chapters in the middle of the night and receive his feedback before morning. At times we shared classes with the clinical and health psychology doctoral students. We were told that if we looked healthy, we weren’t working hard enough. One faculty member remarked that a previous student had been unrecognisable after the course because she looked so well. Former medical doctor Adam Kay has written about the paradox of working within the health field, which simultaneously neglects the wellbeing of health practitioners. Hearing more recent stories from junior psychologists gives me hope that the culture of training programs is shifting in a more positive direction. In our cohort, one doctoral candidate dropped out before the course began and another in our first year. Of the remaining four, three of us graduated together.
While we celebrated finally being registered psychologists, we still weren’t forensic psychologists. Next, we had to become psychology registrars and complete further supervised practice before receiving our forensic title. The duration of the registrar program varies, lasting a year or more depending on qualifications and time taken to meet all requirements.
I thought I had finished studying, but not long after the doctorate I found myself with the urge to return and applied for the Master of Clinical Psychology. During the day I worked as a forensic psychologist around my clinical placements in the student clinic and later in a hospital outpatient program. My evenings were spent attending classes, and weekends and annual leave were taken up writing assignments and working on my thesis. Once again after graduating, I had to complete the registrar program before receiving the title clinical psychologist.
After completing the clinical masters course, my academic journey still wasn’t over. I felt dissatisfied with interventions that lacked depth, often oversimplifying the complexities of individual experience and overlooking a highly significant aspect in any process of change — the therapy relationship itself. This led me toward attachment informed and developmental-relational approaches, and applying for another four-year training, this time to become a psychoanalytic psychotherapist. The program is demanding, involving a one-year infant observation, where, as the name suggests, you closely observe an infant’s development within their caregiver environment over their first year of life. Alongside this, we engaged in clinical and theoretical seminars, supervised practice, and attended our own therapy sessions at least twice a week, in addition to completing extensive written assessments. By now, I have lost count of how many years of tertiary education I have completed — it must be somewhere around twenty. Yet as a psychologist, the learning never truly ends, whether through structured training or informally drawing knowledge from ongoing engagement with literature, professional relationships, and experiences within the consulting room, we are always evolving and developing.
At Illume Psychology, we’re committed to more than just managing symptoms; our focus is on nurturing genuine development and wellbeing so you can enjoy a more enriched and fulfilling life. This philosophy is one we share as a team, continuously supporting and inspiring each other’s growth — both personally and professionally — as we aim to deliver the highest quality psychology care to our community.
— Written by Dr Poppy Edwards
October 2024