Location: Washington, D.C.
Job title: Child and forensic psychologist, Maven Psychology Group
Previous jobs: Partner/co-founder, Maven Psychology Group; adjunct professor, University of Maryland (2018-2020; 2021); adjunct professor, George Washington University (2020); clinical supervisor, Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Coalition (2020-2021); mental health director and psychologist, Maryland Child Advocacy Center (2014-2020); associate attorney, DeHay & Elliston (2002-2003).
What led me to my current role: As a child, I was a sensitive soul. As early as kindergarten, I had so many strong feelings. I grew into adulthood and remembered those experiences vividly. I realized this was a special skill: Many adults do not recall their childhood in detail, but I do.
After working as a camp counselor and in a preschool, I discovered I also loved spending time with kids. Finding a vocation in which I can work with kids was a given, but in what capacity was a journey.
My journey of becoming a psychologist involved MANY wrong turns. However, after initially becoming an attorney, I realized I enjoyed the emotional aspects surrounding issues far more than legal fighting. I retired early from law, course corrected, and entered a PhD program in child clinical psychology.
After gaining enough skills and experience, I was ready to create my own perfect job: opening my own practice. Creating Maven Psychology with Dr. Jenna Calton has allowed me to do everything I love, including therapy, assessment, expert witness work, adjunct teaching, clinical training and even the flexibility to co-create a nonprofit.
How I spend the majority of my day: I spend my day interacting with people (in person, phone or Zoom). I have interactions with children, parents, schools, lawyers and other mental health professionals.
I get to play with toys during the day. I also spend time writing reports, reviewing legal documents, writing patient notes, sending emails and looking up research to aid all that I do.
Inevitably, as a small-business owner, I end up doing odd tasks like, “Oh no, we need more trash bags,” or “Yikes, the sink is leaking.”
Note: Patient gender, ages and information have been deidentified.
6:30 a.m.: I wake up to my alarm, look at the time, and smile happily as I don’t need to wake up for another hour! Yes, I set it a full hour ahead for the joy of going back to sleep. Don’t judge.
7:30 a.m.: I smell coffee. Wake up. Hear husband moving around. Two minutes later, he arrives with a steaming cup of the “elixir of life.” We have our daily drink-and-chat.
7:40 a.m.: Check work emails. There’s a note from a director of a local child care center regarding a traumatic incident that happened the previous day. She asks if I can make time to give advice on how to handle the situation.
I respond to a few other emails. Lie back down, read the paper, check social media and actually get out of bed at 8:30.
8:30 a.m.: I hop out of bed and head to my closet. Big decision time. What to wear? I think through my day. I have an in-person therapy session with a 6-year-old boy who loves to sit on the floor and play Legos. This means it’s pants day. I also have a new patient whom I’ve only met once. She is an 8-year-old girl who was super excited to see the “glitter” jar in my office. She had told me she loved sparkles, so I’d made a mental note to wear my sparkly shoes for our second session today. Finally, I notice a consult with an attorney. This means I want to look a bit more professional. I choose a blazer.
Next, I head to the kitchen to grab food for later. I usually don’t eat breakfast. I get my usual — yogurt, bubble drinks (Spindrifts and Coke Zeros), Pirate’s Booty (I also eat like a kid), granola bar and cheese.
I then order my daily Starbucks, an iced latte and iced tea (yes, it’s an issue, though I call it “self-care”).
9:10 a.m.: Get into car, drive to Starbucks, run inside, say hi to the barista that I know, grab my two drinks, back into the car, head to work.
9:30 a.m.: While driving, it’s time for my biweekly call with my partner. Today’s agenda: Hiring more clinicians and working on next year’s budget.
10 a.m.: Arrive at work while still talking with Jenna. Settle into my chair, log into Zoom. Spend the rest of the meeting working on our budget.
10:30 a.m.: Phone rings. End Zoom call with partner and jump onto a call with director of the child care center from this morning’s email. Provide psychoeducation about how teachers, kids and parents may react to the event that occurred. Discuss how to screen for symptoms, and proactive steps to take.
11 a.m.: Zoom meeting with Dr. Deboard-Lucas, board president of the TRUE Center. The two of us, plus three other clinicians, co-founded the nonprofit, whose mission is to treat trauma in children from underserved communities across the DMV. Discuss the podcast we’re appearing on tomorrow.
Log into my next Zoom, where the parents of a teenage boy I treat are waiting to start their session. The teenager recently disclosed he had been sexually abused at camp years ago.
1:02 p.m.: I text therapists in my next meeting that I will be a few minutes late. Dash to the bathroom, run to the fridge, grab my lunch and log into Zoom yet again.
1:05 p.m.: Group supervision with our other Maven clinicians. Together we review risks across this week’s cases, such as suicidality. Each of us present current cases and ask specific questions, and we talk through possible approaches. Meanwhile, I eat my yogurt and Pirate’s Booty, trying not to crunch too loudly, and drink my first Coke Zero.
1:50 p.m.: Set up therapy room. Pick out toys: Legos and Magna Tiles come out because my 6-year-old male patient loves these.
Log on to his medical record and review where we are in treatment. He’s being treated for trauma related to physical abuse. He lives just with his mother, and is very aggressive when mad. He is being treated with Trauma Focused Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and we are working on feelings identification and modulation.
My patient builds towers, and I join him, using Lego figures to help him talk about feelings. We also address how to feel better, and I teach him “cookie breathing” (smell the cookies in the oven, then blow on them since they’re hot). At the end of the session, his mom joins us, and he teaches her this new skill. I love my job. I know I can really help this kid, and I can see that his mom is now hopeful too — whereas when she first called me, she was not.
2:50 p.m.: Quickly clean up toys. Get Coke Zero No. 2, bring on the caffeine as I still have lots left to do! Write therapy note about session. Prep for next patient, an 8-year-old girl with anxiety.
3 p.m.: Patient arrives, smiling brightly. She’s excited to see my shoes. In our first session, she did not want to go alone into my therapy room, but this time she’s willing. Continue to work on our therapeutic alliance. Draw with her. Provide psychoeducation about therapy. She is willing to answer many more questions than in our last meeting, sharing her anxiety and how it interferes. This input helps me make her treatment plan. At end of session, write therapy note.
4 p.m.: Zoom with lawyer representing a mother in a rabbinical court. Discuss his interest in hiring an expert (maybe me) to testify about the best interest of the client’s daughter regarding custody.
5 p.m.: Complete a therapy note started earlier in the day. Return emails and phone calls. Eat cheese and drink Coke Zero No. 3. Return call to attorney in California who asks me to review a child’s forensic interview.
6 p.m.: Grab granola bar and drink Spindrift, wishing it was a Coke Zero No. 4. Review some of the discovery for a New Hampshire case involving sexual abuse at a school.
7 p.m.: Text husband about dinner. He reminds me he’s going to the Nationals game. Great excuse to stop by Chipotle for takeout.
7:30 p.m.: Get home, scarf down dinner. Promise myself I’ll actually cook a home meal soon. Eye my elliptical and debate working out. Barter with self to do it tomorrow.
8 p.m.: Curl up on the sofa, watch mindless reality TV show. I get annoyed when trauma comes up in the show, so I change the channel. I need escapism, not more abuse disclosures. Do some paperwork and answer some emails.
10 p.m.: Take a hot bath and read The Washington Post and other news online.
10:45 p.m.: Crawl into bed. Pet cat. Mindlessly browse social media. Read a book on Kindle.
11:15 p.m.: My husband comes home from the ballgame, gets in bed and falls asleep — before me, as always! Finish book. Buy another Kindle book. Begin reading.
Finally, sleep comes around 1:15 a.m. Zzz.
