E Triple Painful

This is a long story about the Examination for Professional Practice in Psychology (EPPP - pronounced as "E triple P").

So, the EPPP is this godforsaken test that everyone who wants to practice clinical psychology has to take. You might have already guessed how I feel about it, because you are a very perceptive reader. But, like dealing with the Electronic Thesis and Dissertation (ETD) editor to fix your margins (which are one freaking sixteenth of an inch off), or staying up for 43 consecutive hours to write about mediators and moderators during prelims, the EPPP is something you just have to do. You can't start asking why. You just fork out your hard-earned thousand dollars* and take it.

Start by asking everyone you know if they have study materials to share with you. Because if they don't, you're going to need some stacks on deck to pay out the nose for your books and flashcards and CDs and practice tests and guided study course and whatever else it takes. 

Also, start by making sure your friends and family are ready for this mess. You're going to be doing some leaning and needing. Prepare them for the oncoming crazy train. If you don't already have one on board, I'm just gonna say it couldn't hurt to have a therapist on your side as well.

Gather ye study materials while ye may. 

Once you get whatever it is you're going to use to study, maybe don't spend like two months just sitting on those study materials. Maybe start reviewing them earlier.

Piaget and Pei Wei

But, once you're in it, just plow through them. Read the review stuff, answer the mini practice quizzes, and keep going. Change study locations. Take breaks. Listen to music. Here's my EPPP playlist, if you're interested. I think it has the right balance of songs to cry to when you're pretty sure life is over, songs to scream to when you hate everything about the EPPP, and motivational songs for your drive to the testing center. 

Behavior Therapy at the Downtown Cary Library

Ethics at the Downtown Durham Library,
where that one guy talked to me about horror films
and stared at me until I left. 

Yeah, not kidding about the horror films guy. Story time!

So I was chillin at the Downtown Durham Public Library, in this little study area with some tables. It was generally understood that it's to be a quiet area. There were many tables, each capable of seating four people. As all the tables were empty, I went ahead and staked my claim on an entire table and started studying. I was reading about Pope, this guy who did all the research on therapist-client sexual relationships (which are totally, clearly, blatantly unethical and yet are shockingly more common than I knew, but I digress). 

There I was, minding my own business and studying. And I notice this guy walking around, maybe having some auditory hallucinations or something. He was muttering and shuffling and just a bit agitated. Whenever other people anywhere in earshot would talk, he would say, really quietly but still audibly, "shut up shut up shut up" and keep browsing books. He'd get a book, sit down and flip through it, then re-shelve and repeat. I was like, ok, this guy is interesting. I'm going to keep studying. 

But then he sat down at my table. Directly across from me. And he began this conversation: 

Library Guy: "Do you like Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"  

Me: "Ummmmmmmm"  

Library Guy: "It has a lot of blood, doesn't it? What do you think of Terminator?"  

Me: "Ummmmmmmmmm"  

Library Guy: "Sometimes the movies have too many cuss words."  

Me: "Ummmmmmmmm"

I tried to send all my best "I'm busy" nonverbal cues. I texted Emily. 

Me: Shit, a crazy person** just sat down and started talking to me.  

Emily: Cure them. It'll be good practice. 

The end. 

Social Psych at Bean Traders in Durham
Delicious coffee, and interesting content
that's really difficult for me to remember. 

Mo' problems, mo' practice (at Monuts Donuts.)

Although I did frequent various study locales in Wake Forest, Durham, Raleigh, and Cary, my home base for studying was the fabulous James B. Hunt Library on NC-State's Centennial Campus. I can't even explain its amazingness in words, so here are some pictures I took during the many, many hours I spent at Hunt.

Takin' a walk around la biblioteca at sunset.
Admirin' the LED cattails and whatnot.

Study booth and whiteboard (They provide markers. I know.) 

Florescent lights done right (the vertical bars hanging from the ceiling).
It looks really cool when you can see the whole room.
(Or I just became oddly enamored with the lights while in a state of studying delirium.) 

Main level, with fourth level balcony. That red and white painting is huge and I love it. 

Part of the main floor (level 2), with stairs leading up to the third level. 

One of my favorite study spots, on the periphery of the
quiet study area on the main level, overlooking Lake Raleigh. 

Climbed these steps many, many times. 

There are just so many places to study at Hunt. I'd reward myself for finishing one section with a walk to a new seating area.

*    *    *

Meanwhile, on the home front, the laundry situation was looking rather grim. 

It's all clean, I promise. But... we did spend many many nights sleeping on the couch
because we weren't quite ready to summit Mt. Laundry, and you can't put clean stuff on the floor.
Maybe I should buy more laundry baskets. 

I've told ya'll about Jonathan before, right? So you know he's completely awesome. He'll be the first to agree. But I mean really. January consisted of me studying or working all. the. freaking. time. That left very little room for things like cleaning, cooking, or... what am I forgetting?

Oh, right. Parenting!

Jonathan did all of that. Got the kids ready every day, took them to school, picked them up, took Evelyn to Ballet, paid all the bills, renewed the Museum membership, took the kids to friends' birthday parties, made Gideon a Yoshi cake for his birthday (I'll post on that another day), tended to Evelyn when she caught the stomach bug... All the things. All of them.

And on top of that? I'd often come home from my long days feeling really sad, or stressed, or angry, or otherwise unpleasant. And Jonathan was (is) so incredibly patient and supportive. I'd apologize for not being around, for seeing him for 10 minutes on his birthday, for not doing all (or any) of the things, and he'd tell me I didn't have to apologize for any of it. That things were okay. No attitude, no grudge-holding, nothing. I'm telling you, he's amazing.

*    *    *

So, once I got through the review materials, I was feeling pretty damn good. The review stuff had highlights of everything ever in psychology, and then a handful of multiple-choice questions to answer after each section. I was killing it on those questions. I was ready to tackle the 8 practice tests.

My first (and only) error-free practice test page!

On January 17th (11 days before the exam), I took my first practice test. Here are some text messages I sent following that first practice test: 

"So I finally took a practice test, got 60%, can't stop crying. I feel like everything is a mistake. Like some kind of joke, like I've convinced all these people who tell me it'll be just fine that no, really, I'm a fuckup. And this test somehow matters more than anything ever."  

"I just failed a practice test. Time to drink." 

And some replies from my wise friends and supporters: 

"KEEP GOING." 

"Yes. Time to drink." 

I was a hot mess. I went out with some friends. Got my head out of the test. Stopped crying. Got some sleep. Finished the day.

I do not like it by a lake, I do not like mistakes I make.

The next day, I decided I'd take my practice test lakeside. I recited all my mantras. I tried to keep breathing. 

58%

Okay, really? It was time to consult Google and Facebook. Where else do you go when things seem to be falling apart?! So I searched for EPPP practice test scores. I asked people who had recently passed the EPPP how they did on their practice tests. And you know what? Everything was going to be okay. If only I'd known going into it that most people hover around the low- to mid-60s on practice tests. And most of these people go on to pass the real test. I don't know why the practice tests are so incredibly soul-crushingly horrible, but knowing that my scores were not as terrible as I'd assumed gave me the resolve to keep going. 

It's been 7 years since my last stats class. At this point I wanted to gouge out my own eyes. 

One of my better practice test scores. Real morale-killers, those practice tests. 

It's good to have caffeine, highlighters, pencils, and a sharpener on hand at all times. 

A rare balanced meal at P.G. Werth's while studying.
("Balanced" is a fancy way of saying "with wine" right?)

I knew it!

It took me a while, but I think by the third practice test I realized that the point wasn't to answer everything, score it, and fall into a pit of despair. The point was really to review the detailed explanations accompanying every answer on the answer key. The problem was, I'd been spending hours answering 200 questions at a time, scoring, and then - as mentioned hereinbefore (stole that word from the Practice Act) - despairing. So I couldn't even begin to focus on the answer explanations. 

But I wised up. I started answering practice questions in sets of 10, and then checking each answer and reviewing the explanations for each item. I took notes and reviewed concepts as I went. 

All these things that I've learned.
(So very few of which were on my version of the test.) 

It took for. freaking. ever. Getting through each practice test took me about 12 hours (that's including any needed sanity breaks such as walking or driving from one location to the next, occasionally eating something, and many many coffee breaks). 

I got pretty loopy. I would spend hours and hours doing mentally taxing stuff and not talking to anyone. As I'm sure you're aware if you haven't yet hidden me from your Facebook feed, I was on Facebook posting about my studying adventures a lot. I was texting a lot. I tried to keep myself entertained in my notes about various questions. 

Yo.

Yo. 

Yo.

And it went on like that for a while. I took a few days "off" from my regular clinical work to dedicate the time to studying. I squeezed in some IEP meetings. I kept going, and going, and going.

The day before the test, a Tuesday, I overslept. I went to the dentist (something I love, actually). I went to the donut shop to study. I had a splitting headache and deep sense of dread about the 8th and final practice test I was working through. So I stopped. I went home and took a nap.

Maxin' and relaxin' with Olive, Sydney, and Mr. Rogers when I hit the wall.

I woke up at some point that night and thought all I wanted in the whole wide world was to hang out with my friends and drink good craft beer and not think about the test the next day. 

And because my friends are amazing, they put their kids to bed and drove to Durham and we went to Fullsteam and drank good craft beer and drove around downtown singing to Sublime. And I didn't think (too much) about the test the next day.

Still love the Working Man's Lunch... but that Hogwash bacon beer is incredible.

And then it was January 28th. EPPP day. Luckily, my former self had the good sense to block off some self-care time. If I learned anything back in the old days of training for marathons, I learned that come race day, you trust your training. You don't try to cram.

Whatever agenda says, Chelsea does. 

Crazy eyes and my fortune mantra. 

So, I went to Rise for a delicious egg and habanero cheddar cheese biscuit. I ate a few bites of that and downed a giant coffee. I couldn't sit still so I drove around. Then Emily's meeting was over so she met me at Rise and I ate some of a donut. Drank some water. I think we talked, I might have laughed. A bird came really close to where we were sitting outside. I have these snippets of memory because I was mostly not there, mentally. 

Breakfast at Rise.
Distraction courtesy of Emily. 

It was test time. My exam was scheduled from 12:30 to 4:30. I drove to the testing center, showed my IDs, put my stuff in the locker, got photographed and patted down and wanded (um, that sounds suspect. It was a metal detector thing). Pulled up my sleeves and pant legs and pulled down my socks to show I wasn't hiding the ultimate EPPP crib sheet. I got seated at my station in a little room full of people taking all kinds of exams, full of cameras filming us from every direction. I tried not to move too much - didn't want anyone thinking I was up to something. But at one point I did take off my rings and set them on the desk, and BAM the proctor swooped in to tell me I MUST KEEP MY JEWELRY ON. That shook me up a bit. But I recovered. 

I took the full four hours for the exam. I was confident in my answers on about 10 of the 225 questions. On the others, for most of them I was able to narrow down the response choices to two. But I walked out feeling pretty certain that a passing score was a long shot. Everyone told me I'd feel this way, but that knowledge didn't take the edge off. 

Exhibit A: I did indeed take the exam. 

I got my printout saying I took the exam, complete with the proctor's seal and all that. (This detail will become important later. You didn't think the story was over, did you?) I blasted my playlist and I hit the road to see Neil. I thought it would be good to have therapy right after the exam. It was... not good? I mostly just sat there feeling all shaky and stressed and freaking out and thinking of random items I didn't think I got right, and trying to explain things to Neil but not really talking. (I've had a few weeks of trying to explain things to Neil without talking. It's really hard. He hasn't gotten better at mind-reading.) Then I left there, still shaky and nervous.

I realized I was hungry, so I went to the grocery store. Guys, do you know how many choices you have to make when you go to the grocery store? I probably looked like I was on some sort of controlled substance because I wandered around the store with glazed eyes just completely overwhelmed at the very idea of having to select something. I wanted a balanced meal to just appear before me. So I texted my friend.

Alissa: Wooohooooo!! Test is done!  

Me: Yes! Oh my god it was horrible.  

Alissa: Drink! 

Me: Yes, I can't make decisions at all. I'm at the grocery store looking at things to eat and I cannot choose anything. Tell me what to drink.  

Alissa: Wine. Eat something premade. Amy's frozen meals are good. Or just bread and cheese and fruit. 

I got the most random stuff ever. Pizza rolls. Ice cream. Wine. Expensive champagne (just in case). A frozen meal. I went home, laid on the couch, asked Jonathan to heat up something for me to eat, had a couple pizza rolls, and completely passed out.

When I woke up the next morning, my entire body just ached. I think it was one of those sleeps where you don't move an inch. I was so sore. And still tired. But it was a new day, and there was stuff to do. Like, an ultrasound for me (no, I'm not preggers... my body has just been protesting the amounts of stress I've been feeling and the doctors have wanted all sorts of tests. I can fill you in on that another day) first thing in the morning, followed by working until 10:00 that night. It was quite the EPPP survival celebration, right?

But to make things even more exciting, on that fateful day after the exam, I got an email from the state board asking whether I'd taken the test. Because, you know, no big deal, but they're changing test administration companies and some things have gotten lost in the process.

I can't even.

There was some frantic texting, pulled over on the side of the road. There was my friend Mary, who checked whether it was one of the days when the board answers the phone and let me know that indeed it was. I calmly called the board. I calmly emailed the board. I frantically facebooked and texted and emailed friends. I had a bunch of people on my side, validating my freakout. And in the end, the board (I imagine them to be like the Wizard of Oz, all curtains and smoke and prestige) said that they were "reasonably confident" that my scores would reach them sometime between 2/1 and 2/5. So I should just stay calm until then.

If you hadn't already gathered from this post, I'm really good at staying calm. (That's sarcasm.) Luckily, I had this pesky little detail called the state licensing exam to take in the window between taking the EPPP and finding out whether I passed the EPPP. So, I studied.

Studying on the dock at Lake Raleigh

There must be... 18 ways to prosecution

Listening to my music at Panera. 

And on Tuesday (6 days after the EPPP), I took the state exam. This one was a touch less stressful, because it's just 50 questions and an hour time limit. I still walked out feeling a bit unsure, but not quite as full of despair as I was when I left the EPPP.

Then, I waited. I took Gideon to the doctor, where we got a referral to the pediatric endocrinologists to try to suss out why he's so tiny. I met with a CPA and got a PO Box and did other stuff to start a business***, I saw clients, I waited some more...

First thing this morning I got the email letting me know I'd passed the state exam. Yay! I waited about an hour before I emailed back and asked whether there was any word on the EPPP. I got this reply:

The scores were received this morning, and I will say that you passed handily, so now take a deep breath. 

Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! I got this email in a very, very quiet waiting room of the office where my supervisor works, and I texted and posted and Facebooked everyone I knew. I wanted to scream. So freaking exciting. Once we walked back to his office, I couldn't contain it any longer and I said, "I PASSED BOTH EXAMS! THIS IS AMAZING!" And he celebrated with me and I still can't stop smiling. I feel like I ought to wrap this up with something insightful but all I have is smiles and feeling incredible. I'm pretty sure it was all worth it just to feel like this.

*So it's, what, like $850 or something? But once you pay the testing site fee and the state fee and the processing fee and the "let's be honest we're just bilking you" fee, and the state exam fee and whatnot, suddenly you're out a whole lot of money. This might motivate you or scare the shit out of you, because if you fail you get to pay it all again.

**I know, I know. Crazy isn't in the DSM. Sometimes I use shorthand when I text. I get it and I have compassion for this person possibly suffering from something. Or maybe not suffering from anything. This is my personal blog so I'm being real with you. 

***Yeah, because just studying for the EPPP isn't nearly enough excitement, I thought it was a good time to also have various doctor's appointments for Gideon and to start a business. I'm working on this pattern of having a million things going on all the time.