Today we’d like to introduce you to Christina Huang.
Hi Christina, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
There’s a joke about how Asians never argue about when life begins: at conception or birth, as it’s agreed upon that life begins the day one graduates from medical school. Back in undergrad, when I was premed and majored in biochemistry, I was slowly developing an awareness that I was unhappy and that route was not a great fit for the natural way I think. I didn’t like the disease-care model of the USA (I still find it strange that we call it a “health care model”), nor did I enjoy having limits placed on my desire to ask Why and delve deeply into the root causes of issues. I was never satisfied with just learning symptoms and treating them without any more consideration to the person, their experiences and the specific contexts of the situation. As part of my premed courses, I was required to take intro to psychology and I fell in love immediately. I found the human psyche endlessly fascinating and complex. To me, there was no better use of my time than to dedicate myself towards learning how to help people in a way that is often misunderstood in society. The connections we have toward each other are arguably our single greatest antidote to suffering as well as our single greatest cause for pain, especially as so many traumas are human-made.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
It has, and it hasn’t. Life is inherently uncertain and to a large degree unpredictable. I have been lucky in that I encountered many great opportunities by keeping an open mind. The way that my career looks today was never my plan, and yet I feel so fulfilled. The clients I am privileged to work with are some of the most beautiful, authentic individuals on this gorgeous planet. Toward the end of my graduate schooling, I lost my beloved father who died in my arms after a very prolonged and unexplainable medical illness. He died in the hospital where I was working as a biofeedback clinician, and I felt absolutely powerless and helpless to do anything about it, despite exercising as much control as I possibly could with directing his healthcare and navigating the exceedingly complex and disintegrated medical system from the inside. I mean to say that I had more access and resources than most. I was 28: an age where none of my peers really knew how to support me or handle death and where phrases like “sleep is for the dead” were used on a near daily basis. I had nightmares and trigger point pain for a bit of time, and I felt so alone in my sorrow and fear outside of my own family. My own psychologist helped me greatly. Until that time, I had approached psychology as a passion, but it was during those harrowing years where I really experienced how much of a difference psychology makes in our experiences. One of our most enduring stigmas is still that the head is decapitated from the body and that having feelings and thoughts is equated to weakness, whereas numbness is a bizarre sign of strength. In my opinion however, we are remarkably anti-fragile, as long as we can get the right support and understanding, and I try to carry that lesson in every minute of the day when I am in my professional role.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your business?
I have a private practice in Mission Valley. I’m not fond of “specialties” as I just find everything too interesting and I love to learn! However, if we are to get technical, my PhD also included a health specialization, which is a few extra years of learning the connection between psychology and physiology as well as Heart Rate Variability Biofeedback. I also spent about a decade in rigorous training at Sharp Mesa Vista’s Cognitive Intensive Outpatient Program where we treated very acute and potentially lethal forms of mood and personality disorders. Therefore, I feel particularly adept at complex psychopathology. Whereas some other providers may shy away from specific issues, I gravitate toward them. I also teach advanced quantitative statistics to first year PhD candidates, and I enjoy conducting diagnostic psychological batteries, either to provide an objective diagnosis or often serving as an expert witness in the legal system.
If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you?
My mother often likes to tell tall tales of me as a child, although I’m unsure how much she is embellishing just to play around. She frequently tells stories such as I didn’t talk, babble, or make any noise until I was ready to say an entire sentence in my native tongue. She also tells a story of how when I was barely able to walk, I’d still insist on walking everywhere because I could, and I’d re-walk the distances she carried me! My father would say that I was a “weird” child, often choosing unusual toys that weren’t popular with other kids but rejecting popular items. My childhood photos show I was quite flamboyant and frequently dancing. Once I became of age to go to school, to which my mother sent me a year early, I spoke mostly in Taiwanese and a little in English, although I understood both entirely and no one understood me! I remember my first few years of school were split between school and English tutoring to help me know which language to speak and when.
Whether my parents’ stories about me are true or just them joking around, I do think that a healthy level of defiance and tendency to question norms has always existed in me. My parents, especially my scientist father, trained me from an early age to question and rarely take things for granted. I grew up mostly in South Texas where no one else looked like us as my parents were exiled from their native land, and so for the longest time I thought that the language we spoke at home was fictitious. To this day, my siblings and I will revert to our home language when we want privacy in public. Even when I visit Taiwan to see my extended family, the locals are shocked by my speaking the local dialect as it is apparently very rare for someone my age to know an outlawed language (see where I inherited my defiance?). Luckily, I had a wonderful childhood and grew up mostly around first generation American kids of Mexican descent who are (still so) humble, loving and grounded. Thus, I have an interesting mix of feeling at home whether I hear Folklorico, country music, or Taiwanese music.
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