The problem with being surrounded by psychologists is that, well, you’re surrounded by psychologists. Thoughtless remarks become windows to the soul. A harmless joke reveals subconscious undertones. Nuance is torn apart and grappled with until you no longer remember what the hell you were talking about in the first place. One minute you’re ordering the egg white omelet, the next minute you’re diagnosed with clinical depression. Once upon a time, if I were asked “How was your day?” I’d proceed to recount the highlight reel of the last 12 hours of my life. Nowadays if asked about my day, my response is, “I’m not falling for that shit again!” At which point I usually run away and lock myself in the bathroom for a few hours. Psychology is an admirable profession. Helping people develop skills that enable them to become more aware, empathetic, compassionate, confident and just plain happier is an honorable way to spend a day. However, unlike other professions, the mindset of a psychologist is tough to switch off. If you’re a surgeon for example, it’s unlikely that you’ll leave work and take a scalpel to the first person you see. But psychology is different. You’re trained to alter the way you intuitively understand words, intonation and body language. But just like a surgeon, or any other profession for that matter, there’s a time and place to apply those skills. Can every detail of a person’s character be studied? Sure. Does that analysis guarantee genuine insights? No. Small talk is still small talk. And my penchant for Appletinis doesn’t reveal any repressed homosexuality. So until psychologists find their “off” switch like the rest of us, I imagine I'll be spending many more hours locked in my bathroom.
