Post-Rant Remorse

Yesterday's post was more grim than I had meant it to be. It has left me feeling guilty and a little bit nauseous, but then again that could be the beer working its way out of my system after last night's gig. I had never meant to exorcise any long-laying demons, or to make my mother and father sound like demons themselves. It was just out of me before I realised what I was saying. I've thought about deleting it, but that would be contradictory to my attempt at real honesty. I am bracing myself for the fallout of AJ reading it.

Feeling much brighter today. As if he could sense I was at my wit's end, dad called me yesterday evening. He told me AJ has been calling him daily and checking in and he is working hard to assure her all is well. It was one of the nicest, longest conversations I have had with him in a long time. It gave me room to stop worrying for a while, to think about something else.

I am refocused on all things PhD as I prepare for my confirmation seminar and conference coming up next month and begin to actually face the workload I have accumulated while I worried about my in-laws, my uterus and my parents. I'm beside myself with stress, but it is a nice kind of stress because I am in control of the stressor - an uncommon and delightful feeling these days. I think I am actually starting to find my feet in this whole process, realising that I actually do have the right to be here - that it was my hard work and intellect that landed me the gig and not just some fluke twist of fate. I have started to read drafts and feel proud of what lies on the pages. Mustn't get too comfortable, though. This is no time for resting on laurels given that the upcoming seminar determines whether or not I am permitted to continue with my research.

I am growing to love academia even more than I thought I would. Hard work and incessant criticism aside, my days are also filled with long coffee breaks and meandering conversations about topics I wouldn't dare broach with most people. I am surrounded by people from a plethora of countries and backgrounds. Afternoons are packed with reading - an activity I have always regarded as my absolute favourite thing to do. It is a gift, really, loving what you do. Such a rare thing. All you have to do is push past the stress of the deadlines and the red marks and the sleepless nights spent getting in and out of bed to write down random ideas popping into your half-sleeping mind. This academic love-fest may seem out of place, but shifting my gaze on such things has just helped me put all of the other business in perspective. Permitted some distance so I could make a less emotional, irrational assessment of what lies ahead and what came before.

All of the other stuff will work itself out, it will come in time. I finished a book on Wednesday night - Douglas Coupland's Girlfriend in a Coma. There is a part of the novel that talks about how people in the world have forgotten that they are part of something, about the lack of connection. I don't feel that in my life. I feel a part of everything - maybe too much sometimes. Maybe crawling inside myself to avoid thinking about the things that hurt is a mistake, will only make things worse in the end. Being too involved is what has made me who I am, being a small part of something bigger has helped to direct and inspire me. Cutting away from the first relationships that taught me how to be a part of something will only deteriorate my ability to be a part of anything else. If that makes any sense at all. It makes sense to me, anyway. Maybe Mr. Coupland can say it better...

"Sometimes I think the people to feel saddest for are people who once knew what profoundness was, but who lost or became numb to the sensation of wonder—people who closed the doors that lead us into the secret world—or who had the doors closed for them by time and neglect and decisions made in times of weakness." - Douglas Coupland