As I've sought to take a few beats and reflect on the last couple weeks, Let It Be by the Beattles floated into my statistics-scorched mind and has kindly stuck around. It's provided a gentle, melodious reminder of what I need to aim for as I face what I can only describe as deep unmooring of myself from head to heart. There will be answers, in one way or another; the nights will become less cloudy in time. I just need to find the ways to let it be, so to speak. Finding greater grace and acceptance, of what is and can be, and becoming more comfortable with the changing tides of this PhD ocean I find myself on.
I spent about 40 minutes, ranging from simply crying to essentially sobbing, in my faculty advisor's office last week. "I'm so unhappy," I sputtered, almost immediately after I sat down. "I feel so useless and stupid and so lost...and so...undocked...unmoored?" I eventually got out, desperately trying to pin a label or two on the unsettling defeat and sadness I had increasingly felt over the quarter. "I don't belong here...I'm literally the dumbest person in my program...I shouldn't have done this...I'm so lonely...why didn't I go elsewhere when I had the chance?...I'm never going to be a statistician or health metrics guru or coding whiz...I hate feeling so dumb and unhelpful to my team and slow...and just everything." My faculty advisor passed me a tissue box and listened until I finished unpeeling the layers of self-doubt, despondency, and isolation that had brought me to this point.
Thankfully, my faculty advisor is no stranger to students' or employees' emotional roller coasters, and to mine in particular. Over the decade plus we've known each other, she has given me the tough love and feedback I needed (and often before I knew I needed it); supported me through exciting and painful professional decisions alike; and helped me navigate personal losses and heartbreak. For some people having this kind of mentor fusion across professional and personal dimensions may seem odd and/or would not be preferred. After all, faculty advisors can wield a lot of power of over your academic and career pathways, and the fact that mine has seen me through some of my personal lows, from the dissolution of an engagement several years ago to a more recent decision to stay in Seattle/go to UW and end a relationship with a man I nonetheless deeply loved, is sometimes a bit scary. Even after all of these years, part of me was terrified to admit the depths of my sadness, frustration, and rutterlessness at that meeting - as if I was letting her down as much as myself.
The remainder of our meeting was spent talking about the wide prevalence of such experiences in graduate school and especially PhD programs; how this particular program was never going to be a cakewalk for me ("If all you had wanted was a PhD, there were much easier routes"); and what tangible steps we collectively and I individually could take to hopefully improve aspects going forward. I left our meeting drained and still feeling unmoored, a sense that kept me raw and tears close at bay for hours, if not days later. Yet I also felt ever so slightly better, like heavy gears slowly inching toward motion, offering hints of a sunnier horizon and gently whispering, you’ll get there, just hang on a little longer. Let it be.
Today I learned...
I can be a steely tough scientist and emotionally splintered human being at the same time.
Today I'm grateful for...
The people who listen. The people who accept you, from the great to ugly, and want to see you succeed. The people I get to have in my life, since having such wonderful, genuine, emotionally-supportive people is never a given.
Today's best part...
Honestly, I'm still working that out. Perhaps an early bed time will do.
Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be
There will be an answer, let it beLet it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it beWhisper words of wisdom, let it be
I spent about 40 minutes, ranging from simply crying to essentially sobbing, in my faculty advisor's office last week. "I'm so unhappy," I sputtered, almost immediately after I sat down. "I feel so useless and stupid and so lost...and so...undocked...unmoored?" I eventually got out, desperately trying to pin a label or two on the unsettling defeat and sadness I had increasingly felt over the quarter. "I don't belong here...I'm literally the dumbest person in my program...I shouldn't have done this...I'm so lonely...why didn't I go elsewhere when I had the chance?...I'm never going to be a statistician or health metrics guru or coding whiz...I hate feeling so dumb and unhelpful to my team and slow...and just everything." My faculty advisor passed me a tissue box and listened until I finished unpeeling the layers of self-doubt, despondency, and isolation that had brought me to this point.
Thankfully, my faculty advisor is no stranger to students' or employees' emotional roller coasters, and to mine in particular. Over the decade plus we've known each other, she has given me the tough love and feedback I needed (and often before I knew I needed it); supported me through exciting and painful professional decisions alike; and helped me navigate personal losses and heartbreak. For some people having this kind of mentor fusion across professional and personal dimensions may seem odd and/or would not be preferred. After all, faculty advisors can wield a lot of power of over your academic and career pathways, and the fact that mine has seen me through some of my personal lows, from the dissolution of an engagement several years ago to a more recent decision to stay in Seattle/go to UW and end a relationship with a man I nonetheless deeply loved, is sometimes a bit scary. Even after all of these years, part of me was terrified to admit the depths of my sadness, frustration, and rutterlessness at that meeting - as if I was letting her down as much as myself.
The remainder of our meeting was spent talking about the wide prevalence of such experiences in graduate school and especially PhD programs; how this particular program was never going to be a cakewalk for me ("If all you had wanted was a PhD, there were much easier routes"); and what tangible steps we collectively and I individually could take to hopefully improve aspects going forward. I left our meeting drained and still feeling unmoored, a sense that kept me raw and tears close at bay for hours, if not days later. Yet I also felt ever so slightly better, like heavy gears slowly inching toward motion, offering hints of a sunnier horizon and gently whispering, you’ll get there, just hang on a little longer. Let it be.
Today I learned...
I can be a steely tough scientist and emotionally splintered human being at the same time.
Today I'm grateful for...
The people who listen. The people who accept you, from the great to ugly, and want to see you succeed. The people I get to have in my life, since having such wonderful, genuine, emotionally-supportive people is never a given.
Today's best part...
Honestly, I'm still working that out. Perhaps an early bed time will do.
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