If you’re reading this, all parts of you are valid and full of possibility.
My parents divorced when I was 4. To make it work as a single mom with 3 kids, we moved into low-income housing which, as you can imagine, didn’t provide access to the best schools (for reference, the setting of “Hillbilly Elegy” is my hometown). By the 5th grade, many of my peers smoked cigarettes, had drank alcohol, and some were having sex – being smart was far from “cool”. I learned to hide my good grades, not talk about the books I was reading, and to tell dirty jokes, all of which I became quite skilled at. When I was placed in the advanced classes in high school, most of the people who had been my friends weren’t in the same classes. So now I was around people who jived with my smarts but didn’t really appreciate my sense of humor. In essence, I learned how to hide parts of myself in order to fit in.
As a first-generation college student, I never expected anything other than to fund my own college education. I started working at 14 and applied for funding from anywhere I could. I wanted to leave Ohio and go to the school that offered the best scholarship, so I packed up and headed off to the University of South Carolina. I knew nothing of southern culture and had only been in the state one other time when visiting schools. I had no idea what I was in for.
When my family left after moving me in, I stood in the Women’s Quad realizing I knew no one. I walked to the Russell House to get some food and saw a large group of girls walking towards me. Wanting to make friends, I looked at them and said “hi”. Every one of them looked at me, then turned their heads in the other direction. What I didn’t know at the time is that they were all rushing a sorority and weren’t allowed to talk with anyone who wasn’t. All I knew was that I was not accepted. Again.
I had issues with my roommates, didn’t understand words people said (“canteen” was a container for water in my world), listened to different music, and didn’t dress like others. Most of my friends were Black, and I would get stared at just walking around campus with them. At one point I was actually told, “Yankee go home”. I was lonely and miserable and didn’t feel that any part of me fit. When I would call home in despair, I was told to just get through it and eventually things would get better. I never reached out for support beyond this.
As a junior, I told my advisor that I wanted to get my Psy.D. (doctorate in psychology) from the same program as a professional I had shadowed. She looked at me and said, “no one will ever respect you with that degree” (as compared to a Ph.D.). I left in shocked silence.
I interviewed for doctoral programs the following year. In an interview at what is now my alma mater (and a Psy.D. program), I was asked what I would do if I didn’t get in. I responded, “I’ll probably go back to South Carolina and continue to work and volunteer and will apply again next year. This is where I’m supposed to be”. I started the program the next fall and graduated with an award for “Sustained Superior Performance” 5 years later.
Growing up with divorce gave me an appreciation for family dynamics and communication. My skill at telling dirty jokes (and yes I think this is a skill) has been hugely beneficial in making people comfortable talking about sex. Having limited funds available taught me the value of money and the importance of work ethic. My appreciation for culture has allowed me to help others better understand its significance when they’ve had the privilege of never having been the only one. Being discouraged has taught me to trust my gut.
I’m a psychologist, a certified sex therapist, and a supervisor. I’m also a teacher, a wife, a bonus mom, a sister, and a friend. More than any of that, I’m human. Every part of me has been relevant at some point in helping me connect with my clients and the people around me. I have full confidence that every part of you is equally important in who you are, who you will be, and all the people you will impact along the way.
If you’re reading this, all parts of you are precious.
-Dr. Sarah Wright, University of South Carolina
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