No Turning Back

Searching for a summer internship between my junior and senior years at Dartmouth, little did I know I would be facing a challenge much tougher than the cutthroat job market, more intense than the scrutiny of a prospective employer. I was battling it out not with the moguls of the publishing world but with two even fiercer opponents: my parents. When faced with the prospect of sending their daughter off to the crimeridden streets of New York City, my dad and mom stepped into the ring.

Ironically, getting the internship proved to be the easiest part of the whole process. After the standard resume submission and interview, I got a summer job offer with Psychology Today magazine. It was an ideal position for me, a double major in English and psychology. I would write for publication and have my articles printed, for the less-than-munificent sum of $25 a week.

When I told them over the phone that I'd gotten the internship, my mother got very quiet. "I have a bad feeling about this," my mother told me. "I was thinking about it last night and I couldn't sleep. If you went to New York, I'd be too nervous." My dad just said no, flat out. "No."

And so we fought. Loudly. In my house, over the phone, and in the car. We kept my brother awake for two hours one night. The more we argued and the more I cried, the more I began to question not only why they were putting up such a struggle but also why I cared so much.

"You need to redefine your relationship with your parents," a friend said to me. "You're an adult now, and this is your decision. You can't let them treat you like they always have." I thought a lot about this assertion. The odd thing was, I'd never had any intention of redefining anything. I'd always liked the way my parents dealt with me. I wasn't rebeling against them or our current relationship, and creating havoc in my household was certainly not part of the plan. I didn't need anything to change. I just needed permission to take the internship.

That reality was central to my dilemma. No matter how much I yelled, I couldn't take the job with-out my parents' blessing. I wanted their final approval, no matter how grudgingly or reluctantly it was given. No internship, no matter how central to my career, was worth dividing my family.

The worst thing was, I could see their point of view. New York is scary, and I'm certainly not a seasoned city-dweller. Suffering the heat and exhaustion of commuting an hour to and from work for a pittance is a questionable maneuver when I could have spent the summer on Cape Cod with my family. Deep down, I also knew how they felt. Stopping me from taking the internship was a means of resisting a permanent departure. Letting me go to New York would be more than approving a summer internship. It would be letting me go forever.

Nevertheless, I still wanted to work for Psychology Today. It was only ten weeks, after all. I had prepared my speech, and was ready to put up my best fight yet. No more tears, I resolved. Just a logical, well-thought-out argument outlining why this internship was so important. I began to plead my case over the phone to my mom. I was halfway through when she interrupted: "You don't have to go on anymore. Your dad and I decided that you can take it."

Now it was my turn to remain silent. I felt very little of the jubilation I had expected. Then I realized something. Years of love and encouragement and advice had led up to that fleeting moment. And after it was all over, there was no turning back.