Cracking

Last week, two days before my paper critique presentation (the last step in the comprehensive exam process), I lost it.

I could feel it coming on - the exhaustion, the muddled thinking, the panic, the inability to get to sleep or stay asleep, the obsessive studying and note-taking (did I really need to write and re-write and re-write the four characteristics of a geographic information system?) - and I knew there would be consequences, but I kept thinking that I just needed to shove all that aside, pull myself together, and get through the presentation. And I almost made it. I almost managed to plow through before I lost my mental cookies.

And then Tuesday came along, and someone said just the wrong thing, and I came to a screeching halt. I felt so low, so depressed, so anxious, and so very out of it. I can't really explain it - I felt utterly detached from reality and unable to ground myself. Everything seemed so loud and looked so dim. I came home from school that day and went straight to bed, where I cried for three hours. Then I wrote to my advisor and said that I was struggling. Then I proceeded to not fall asleep for a while, and then I woke up at 3 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. All the while knowing that I needed to have a polished written critique submitted to my committee by 5 p.m. Wednesday, and a polished 20-minute presentation ready to deliver by 1 p.m. on Thursday.

On Wednesday morning, I dragged myself to my old therapist's office. I had bags under my eyes and I wasn't thinking clearly. I was dizzy. I kept spacing out; he kept asking me how present I was and reminding me to stay with him. I told him that I felt like I was really, truly on the verge of a breakdown and that the thought of continuing to live with these mood swings - as I have for most of my life so far - was unbearable. I told him that sometimes the thought of death was so nice. Not that I would ever do anything to myself - I wouldn't, because I wouldn't do that to my son; I wouldn't ruin his life - but for as long as I can remember, when things get bad it's comforting to think of not being here. I remember being 13 years old and obsessively planning my funeral, just because it helped calm me down. But this time I was scared, because I was so very out of it and I had such a tenuous handle on... everything.

When the hour was up he did the typical "Well, it looks like we're out of time" therapist thing, but when I stood up to leave and fumbled through my wallet for the check, he hesitated and said we had a couple more minutes. I sat down again, and he gave me some suggestions - one of which was to go to the student counseling center and talk to them about medication. I have tried hard to avoid medication for reasons I don't totally understand. Perhaps it's a control thing. Perhaps it's a fear that the medicine won't work, and then what will I do? What will my options be? Perhaps it's the worry that the medicine will work for a while, and then it will stop.

But this time I think I'm ready to try it. What happened last week truly terrified me. It's not like comprehensive exams were the scariest thing in the world, nor should they have been as stressful as I managed to make them. I think they were just the straw that broke the camel's back... Between that, and my mom getting sick, and traveling last month, and having this cold that won't go away, plus all of the other things that are always running obsessively through my head anyway, plus what just may be chemical issues in my brain that I can't control, I shut down. I broke.

So in two weeks I have an appointment with a psychiatrist. I know that by then I may be feeling fine. I may have forgotten what I felt like a few days ago (and what I still feel like, a little - these episodes leave an emotional residue). But regardless, I'm doing it anyway, and I'm going to make sure the doctor understands that despite my placid and friendly-looking exterior, I need some help.

One of my friends sent me a link to a blog entry about a guy who was afraid to go on medication but found that it made a real difference for him. It's a Christian blog, and I'm not a Christian, but it was moving and helpful and comforting anyway:

http://www.air1.com/blog/brant/post/2012/01/10/Is-Jesus-Enough.aspx

I especially relate to this - this feeling that I can't rest, I can't make my mind stop, I'm a failure, life is rushing by and I can never quite catch it: "My life had been wasted. I'd accomplished nothing, and the sorrow of it all was descending on me. The vanished years! I've done nothing! Where did the time go? Life is too fast, rushing by like a freight train, and I couldn't get on it... I'd previously lie there and think about how I blew it on the air this morning; how I never should have quit talk radio; how I shouldn't have said that one awkward thing five, 10, or 25 years ago;  how I'd wasted whatever I'd been given; how I'd failed to provide a yard for my kids to play in; how the years were slipping by, and, though my wife said differently, I just knew I wasn't doing enough as a dad or a husband or a child of God."

In the two years that I have known my therapist, he has never recommended medication. I'm not sure that's really his thing. He has recommended talking, meditation, yoga, tai chi, and rest. He has recommended opening up to other people and taking some risks in order to develop friendships. He has recommended relying on my family when things get tough. He has recommended that I call him if I need to, even if it is 11 p.m. on a Saturday night (he doesn't mind and he will call me back, he says). But the other day, I think he could see that I have kind of hit my limit. I think he could see how scared I was and how tired I was - of myself.

I did get through the critique, by the way. After my therapy session I came home and slept for two hours. Then I hauled myself out of bed, somehow wrote something that my advisor said was thoughtful and comprehensive, and put together a presentation that, while not an oratory masterpiece, served its purpose. In all honesty, I have no idea how I did it. I really don't. I'm just glad it's over.

Aim for results, not accolades

The past two months have been relentless and exhausting, so much so that I could feel myself stumbling through life in a total daze, losing perspective, becoming ungrounded. First there was the conference in early December, then there was fieldwork, then there was the Christmas trip to see family, then there was a bout of bronchitis that hung on for weeks, and then there were my Ph.D. comprehensive exams.

Throughout the last six weeks the exams have been at the forefront of my mind, and I've been studying for at least a good five or six hours a day, if not more. Oftentimes my family would go to bed and I'd be up reading and taking notes. I'd get up in the morning, eat breakfast, and break out the books again. I took one day off - Christmas - but otherwise, I was loathe to give it a rest. In the short history of my department's Ph.D. program, no-one has failed their comps and only a couple of people have received conditional passes. I did not want to be the first person to totally bomb, especially because there were two other women in my program taking their comps at the same time, and we're all in the same subfield. That would be humiliating - to fail as they passed. All three of us worried about it. All three of us were freaked out about struggling through while the other two skated by. And all three of us were horrified at the thought of being compared to one another (we still are).

The exams started on Thursday of this past week. I knew they'd be tiring, but I felt ready. I guess I wasn't prepared for just how draining they would be. The question sets I received were doable, but they were also really long and challenging. I spent nine hours on the questions on Thursday, another three hours on a second batch of questions yesterday, and then had my oral exam yesterday afternoon. I did my best, but it's hard to maintain a high level of quality when you've been sitting there, thinking and writing, for an entire day. I know some of my responses were weaker than they could have been simply because clarity and concision fizzled away by the day's end.

I passed. My friends passed, too. I have mixed feelings about the entire experience. On one hand, I feel great that this is over (save for a critical paper review next week, but for some reason that seems less intimidating than the exam) and pleased that I got through it. I'm proud of the three of us as a group - three women in science, marching this long road together. The comprehensive exam is a big hurdle in the Ph.D. process - and we surmounted it.

On the other hand, I find myself ruminating on the things I missed or didn't explain well enough. They had told us that during the oral part, they'd focus on test answers that were fuzzy or incorrect and help us work through them. Of course all three of us had some fuzzy answers, but for some reason I felt really bad about mine. Why is it that I think I should be able to get all of the right answers, all the time? Why, after three decades, do I STILL believe that I need to be perfect? Why do I still want to be the best, the smartest? It's ridiculous, and I see that... The oral part actually went really well in many ways. They'd wanted me to get to a certain (and pretty obscure) conclusion on one of the written questions, but I hadn't, and so we addressed it step by step. Even though I showed them that I knew all of the concepts and equations needed to get there (even managing to remember some pretty complicated diagrams and drawing them on the board), and even though it led to a productive discussion about possible future research, and even though they seemed to enjoy the conversation and think I did well, all I could see was where I had failed.

There was even a part of me thinking, "They shouldn't have had to ask you ANY questions. They should have looked at you and said, 'We have nothing to say because you got it all right!'" Which is beyond ridiculous. It is a Ph.D. comprehensive exam. The point is to put you on the spot and test you and challenge you. And the question that I only "did okay" on was a tough one: the answer was elegantly simple but in all honesty I would have never, ever gotten there on my own - even if I'd studied for two more months - because I would have never been able to see the problem from the perspective my advisors wanted me to see it from. I needed their help to get there. I am trying to be okay with that - with not being able to get everywhere without help.

My only resolution for 2012 is the title of this post: Aim for results, not accolades. Or in the words of actress Helen Hayes, "My mother drew a distinction between achievement and success. She said that 'Achievement is the knowledge that you have studied and worked hard and done the best that is in you. Success is being praised by others, and that's nice, too, but not as important or satisfying. Always aim for achievement and forget about success.'"

I have spent so much time in my life worrying about what others think, trying to figure out how to gain their approval and be their "favorite." Looking back, that tactic hasn't gotten me anywhere. If anything it's held me back. How many times have I quit jobs or other endeavors because I wasn't the best, because I didn't win, because someone else did better?

Now I've found a field that I love. I get up in the morning excited to do the research I do. I could talk about it all day (fortunately for those around me, I hold back). Perfectionism will not be allowed to mess this up for me. I'm trying to forget about winning people's approval and focus on meeting the daily, weekly, and semester-long goals that I set for myself. I have high expectations and standards: if I meet my own goals, eventually I will get to where I want to go. Ultimately, that's what will allow me to achieve - not praise from other people.

At any rate, at this point I am relieved, tired, and - annoyingly - sick again. Antibiotics killed the bronchitis but they couldn't prevent this new cold virus that I seem to have picked up overnight. So now I'm going to spend the day resting, playing, and eating, and NOT looking at books, thank God.

Finally, a break

I've been on the move since the beginning of December, first in San Francisco for a conference, and then in Arizona for fieldwork. I'm finally home. I'm so glad. It's 10 a.m. on Saturday and I'm snuggled up under the covers, uploading pictures to the computer and discussing Lego airplanes with my son. Best place on earth right now (unfortunately I have to get up in a few minutes, make myself presentable, and go to school to proctor a final exam).

Union Square, San Francisco (don't know who these people are... I was just trying to get the tree)

 John Muir Woods north of SF

Sign at Muir Woods

Excursion to Santa Cruz (~70 minutes south of SF)

After the conference, I spent two days at home before heading off to Middle-of-Nowhere, Arizona for fieldwork:

Canyon near Sitgreaves Pass along Route 66... These bouldery landscapes always make me a little nervous. Who knows when another giant rock is going to tumble downslope?

My field area is beautiful at this time of year. The nights are cold, but the days are perfect for hiking - cool and sunny. 

Campfire food (we camped... I slept in the car because I'm always freezing when I tent-camp in the winter)

Joshua Trees south of Las Vegas

It's been a whirlwind. I've done a pretty good job of maintaining my energy levels; in fact, when we were hiking around my field area, I felt absolutely great. I think ramping up my running in the past couple of months prepared me well for stomping around the desert. On the other hand, my body is definitely waving a white flag and begging for some downtime. As soon as we got to AZ, I came down with a rather clingy cold. Usually I can shake those things in a couple of days, but this time it's still going strong nearly a week in.

I need some rest.

Unfortunately I won't get much of a mental break until the end of January, after my comprehensive exams are over. That's right - over Christmas I'll be hitting the books. I hope I can make myself focus (and I really hope I pass!). Right now all I want to do is lounge around on the couch, drink hot chocolate, and make paper chains for the Christmas tree.

Turkey Trot = Turkey Flop

I paid $35 to run a 5K Turkey Trot this morning. This particular race has been a tradition in our town for several years, and it draws a pretty large crowd of runners (at least 300, maybe 400). Furthermore, the course is as flat as it's going to get around here - so at least in theory, it's a good opportunity to set a 5K PR.
It's sponsored by a professional athletic center where a bunch of pro football players train.

In other words, all signs point to a well-organized race.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. Issues with this 5K:
1. 15 tables, no signage. I didn't pre-register, so I registered this morning. It took me several minutes to figure out where the sign-up sheets were. Once I'd filled out the form, it took me another few minutes to figure out where to pay. The person who accepted my money said, "You can get your bib over there," and then pointed in a vague direction. Lather, rinse, repeat with the chip table.

2. No starting line. Most of us milled around in confusion, trying to deduce which direction we were setting off in. Furthermore, there were no suggestions for runner/walker placement. What's the point of having a big, USTF-certified, timed 5K if the people who want to get off to a fast start are blocked from doing so? I'm not insulting the walkers, but race directors should think about this.

3. No gun, no "Ready, set, go," nothing. Some people started running and the rest of us followed.

4. No clocks anywhere along the course. Even the smallest and newest race I did a couple of months ago had a clock at the finish line. I should have started the timer on my phone, but I assumed I didn't need to.

But wait. Isn't it really all about the joy of running? Isn't that the most important thing?

Um, no. If I want to experience the joy of running, I'll go to the local park and run for free. When I sign up for a race, I do it because it's a way to feed my self-competitive hunger. I love running, but I love running in large part because it's a way for me to set goals and strive to reach them.

I've been doing more speedwork lately, and I think I managed to keep up a decent pace during the race - so I have high hopes that I beat my last time. I'll have to wait until the results are posted online (which should be anytime between now and the end of the year).

/disgruntled post

Happy Thanksgiving!

He was kind of a jerk (and maybe that's okay)

I've been reading the Steve Jobs biography... and although I haven't finished it yet, the first few chapters portray him as a volatile, selfish, and demanding individual. I'm pretty sure that had I been one of the employees described in the book, Steve and I wouldn't have gotten along. He would have been too mean, and I would have been too sensitive.

The funny thing, though, is that although the book makes no attempt to sugarcoat who he was, it's actually inspiring me to change the way I interact with people. I'm a people-pleaser - not by nature, but by training. I learned early on to focus outward, away from myself, on the things other people wanted and felt. I wanted to make everyone happy. By nature? I am not the nicest person you will ever meet. I can be selfish, perfectionistic, driven to the point of tunnel vision, disgruntled, critical, and overly emotional. I try to hide all of that; my whole life, it's been drilled into me that these are all very negative qualities. So I try to squelch them, not just for the sake of everyone else, but also so that I won't hate myself.

But trying to please others while constantly stifling my own opinions and frustrations isn't working anymore. It just makes me feel bitter - especially now, given the situation with my mom and how busy I am with school and home life. I don't have time to sit around wondering how to make every other person around me happy or worrying that they won't like me. Screw it. Innately, I am all the things I listed above, but I am also a good, loyal, and caring person. I am a loving mother and a committed partner. I'm self-reflective. I'm generous with my time and material possessions. Expressing how I feel won't change that. I've decided to "let it all hang out" and see what happens. I'm not going to be intentionally rude - but I'm going to be direct.

I've tried it over the past week, and I'm surprised by how well it's worked. It's possible that I have caught a few people off guard by being more outspoken and opinionated than I've been in the past, but as far as I can tell, it hasn't hurt me or anyone else. In fact, it has been helpful to me because it's allowed me to state my own boundaries: "No, sorry, I can't do that because I just don't have time" or "If this happens again, I'm going to need more advance notice" or "That project seems more like busywork for the students than something of value. I think we should change it to make it less time-consuming and more meaningful for them." Maybe I'm going to come across as more negative or more demanding, but if so, so be it, because I also think it'll help me preserve my own integrity and build relationships that are based on complete and total honesty.

I'm starting to realize that the people I get along with the best aren't necessarily the nicest people, but rather the most honest people. More than anything, I appreciate knowing where they stand. There's comfort in knowing that they are looking me in the eye and saying everything, not placating me with a bunch of niceties and then talking about me behind my back.

Furthermore, I love what I do, just as Steve Jobs loved what he did. And I don't want "being nice" to stand in the way of doing what I love and being as good at it as I possibly can be. I don't want "being nice" to stand in the way of creativity and development of ideas.

Stage III

I'm visiting my parents this weekend. I felt like I needed to see how my mom was doing, get some additional information about what she's dealing with, and hopefully bring her some cheer. (I say that last part with some chagrin as I am really not someone who brings cheer... Pollyanna I'm not. I guess what I mean is that I wanted to show her that I care and I'm in this with her.)

I was able to review the tumor pathology report, which in a nutshell indicates that she has Stage III colon cancer. That means she will need to have chemotherapy. I've read numerous reputable sources indicating that the latest chemo drugs for colon cancer are highly effective, and the side effects are relatively tolerable. There's no reason to not be optimistic.

She is incredibly energetic for someone who had major surgery less than two weeks ago and is facing such a tough diagnosis. It's impressive. She's walking around a lot, chatting with friends, getting her own food (she won't let us do much), taking her medications on schedule, and basically being her usual self. I do not see any self-pity or even much worry on her part. She's handling it all about as well as anyone possibly could.

I wish I could say that I am following suit with my own attitude and feelings, but inside I am wrecked. I went for what was supposed to be an hour-long run, and halfway through I stopped right in the middle of the road and started to cry. I'm trying to hide it, but... this is hard. And it seems really unfair and selfish of me to see this as so difficult and to get so upset when my mom is being so positive. It's not that I don't believe she'll get better - I do. The odds are well in her favor.

The thing is that you never know how you're going to react to this sort of situation. All this time I figured that if something were to happen, I'd be able to hold it together. I'm not. Not really. I mean, I think that on the outside, in my interactions with her, I am doing and saying the "right" things. But inside I'm torn up. There's an added complication to what is going on here, which is that our family isn't particularly close and we have a lot of unresolved issues. I have distanced myself from them in recent years. Many of their friends and my friends don't get it; they think I'm selfish. I have my reasons. Now this is happening, and while my feelings about my dysfunctional family haven't changed, I also have this built-in need to be there for my parents. It's confusing and disorienting, and I feel totally narcissistic for having all of these self-focused feelings when it's not about me.

I should be fine. I should be strong. I should be encouraging. I will be those things, as much as I can. But I don't always feel like I have it in me. If this is a marathon, I am not the person at the front, bravely maintaining race pace and thinking positive thoughts. I am the person jogging well behind schedule, the one puking in the bushes and begging to quit, the one who doesn't quit but who whines all the way to the finish line.

Seven miles, students, and Steve Jobs

Yesterday I ran seven miles, the farthest I've run in at least a year or two. My lungs felt good throughout; my legs got kind of rusty at the end. But I finished feeling more refreshed than tired. It helped that I was running outside. The weather was perfect - sunny, cool, breezy - and the falling/blowing leaves made it all the more invigorating. Today I kept it simple and followed up with a three-mile walk on the treadmill.

As I walked, I thought about my students. I've been teaching college students in some capacity for the better part of 10 years. When I started out, I was only a year or two older than the seniors. It didn't take much to intimidate me. I worried about whether they liked me, whether they thought I was lame, whether my classes were "fun" enough.

This is the first year where I look at my students and think, "They're so young." When I'm around them, I don't feel old, per se, but I see how I have changed in the last decade as an instructor. I feel more comfortable in the role, more capable. If they act out, I don't take it personally. I see their insecurities, their worries, and their frustrations. I see their creativity and their unique way of approaching problems. I think they are all incredibly smart and talented, though in different ways. And I really like each and every one of them. This semester I got lucky with my class: no-one whines (or if they do, they're smart enough to whine out of earshot of me), and they work hard enough.

I thought of them, and me, and life in general, when I read part of Steve Jobs' 2005 commencement address to Stanford graduates (I know he talks a lot about death here, but this quote is really about life): "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart... Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."