Go ahead: ask me about my dissertation

Exactly three weeks ago, I posted this on Facebook:

"My holiday wish this year is for every single one of you (plus my coworkers, who will unfortunately never see this message) to please refrain from asking how my dissertation is going.

I really appreciate your care, your concern, and your support... but asking me about it when it's not happening just makes me feel bad and guilty and lots of other things that PhD students are conditioned to feel when their work doesn't get done, despite whatever other important and valid stuff they're juggling in life.

When I'm making awesome progress, I will let you know. And when I need to talk about it and get some support, I will let you know that, too. And please feel free to ask me about the other things going on in my life, 'cause there's lots and they're way more awesome than my dissertation. :)

Thank you for understanding (and for helping my wish to come true!). ♥"


My motivation for posting this was how terrible I had been feeling when people asked me about my dissertation - which seemed to be ALL THE TIME. I couldn't say that I'd been working on it, because I hadn't. I had been so busy through November and December figuring out my new job, getting to know people in my new town, and getting back into a good self-care routine of gym and healthy food, that I was simply too exhausted to work on it. I was also just burned out - as much as I wanted to finish, it felt like the hardest thing in the world to even think about trying. It was still that thing hanging over me like a dark, glowering spectre, threatening my current and future happiness, and making me feel guilty for doing the things that anyone would've expected me to be doing whilst starting a new life for myself in another country. So, I posted the above, and suddenly (thankfully!) - people stopped asking. And it was awesome.

You know what happened next? I took two solid weeks off of work over the holidays and new year. I knew that if I was to have any hope of defending my dissertation in May, for when my return flight is booked, that I would need to have it done by January 7, the day I was due to go back to work. And so, I wrote. Midway through the two weeks that I spent largely sequestered in my room at my desk, I stumbled upon this poem of Mary Oliver's:

'The Journey'

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.


That was it. My journey. My dissertation. The stars did  begin to burn through the clouds, and the light returned, and I realised that to write was to (symbolically) save my life. And, I am overjoyed to say that I was successful. Last night, at about 9:30pm, I emailed a complete draft of my dissertation to my supervisor. I'm done. I'm really, really done.

It's far from perfect, but I'm proud of it. :)

I have to say, friends told me that writing and finishing a dissertation was a bit like giving birth, and they were so very right. The last few days of writing were punctuated by almost every emotion imaginable, from moments of uncontrollable sobbing to literally skipping and dancing down the lane during my late night mind-clearing walks and feeling more liberated than I ever have in my entire life. And, as life tends to throw everything at us at once, including a situation with my family in Canada this past weekend that made me greatly wish I was there, rather than here, it was a lot. But, I did it. And I'm not ashamed to admit that when I posted a screenshot of my dissertation title page from the finished complete draft to FB, and friend after friend from afar congratulated me, all I was able to do was sit there, looking at the screen, and cry. (Thanks to those of you who posted and 'liked' - it obviously meant a lot!) Suddenly, it was really over. And then my friend Tom - who already has his PhD and has used the birth-giving metaphor in conversation with me before - wrote: 'Congratulations! It's a boy!' and I found my laughter again. 

I have to say, though, that although those were tears of relief and joy, there was definitely a huge low afterwards. It hit me especially this afternoon at work, and although I was happy to be back there (it feels a lot more like a holiday than my holiday did!), I was exhausted. And I suddenly felt very lonely and lost. Doubt slunk into my mind about whether the draft I've submitted is actually any good, and at the moment it feels like it sucks ass, and I'm dreading that is exactly what my supervisor is going to tell me in her comments. But right now, aside from the tiredness and apprehension, I am wondering who I am when I'm not working on a PhD. (And then there's the other question: who will I be when being a doctor is a part of my identity? But I'm not ready to answer that one yet!).

I guess the answer is that I'm not entirely sure. Aside from one year off when I was 26, I have been in the education system continuously since I was five years old. This is my fourteenth year of university, and my sixth in the PhD program at York U. And, let me say, the last 2.5 years of languishing in dissertation-land - and all the other shit I went through during that time, 'cause there was a lot of it - was the most difficult part of it by far. I'm thankful to be on the other side (by only 24 hrs!), and yet I know that being a student, and a graduate student in particular, has been a significant part of how I construct my identity. I have a feeling, though, that moving on from that part of my life is going to allow a lot of other awesome stuff to emerge. Not to mention that my middle name, Farryn, does actually mean 'wanderer' or 'adventurer' - which means I'm pretty much fated to do cool stuff. ;) Stuff that it didn't feel like there was space for before, since indulging in activities not associated with my dissertation was supposed to be guilt-riddling and shame-worthy.

After spending the past few years imagining what it would be like to have real free time, I am suddenly wondering what to do with it now that it's mine. (Until I get comments back from my supervisor and have to do revisions on the dissertation, anyway!). I promised myself last year that when my knee was healed, and my dissertation was written, that I would learn to olympic lift. And, well... my knee is nearly there. The reality of having to follow through with that dream is a little daunting, but I think I'm going to commit to doing it in the spring, once I've had a chance to get my body used to lifting for strength again at a lower rep range (and once I know whether my contract at work will be extended). Exciting. :) And I have so many books to read - for fun! Yes, this is going to be good. 

Although I'm sure there will continue to be a lot of huge highs and massive lows over the next few months as I finish up the dissertation, defend, and sort out my 'next steps', I am so thrilled to welcome this newness into my life and say goodbye to what no longer serves me. Happy 2013, indeed!