some results

Today Dave returned to Michigan, and I remained in New York. We are not sure how long this arrangement will last, but I desperately hope to find a resolution in the next few months. In the meantime, I am reflecting on some lessons I learned from my therapist in the Fall. I found my therapist online, and he was a pleasant and encouraging person. He didn't have much to say that I haven't already thought about myself. And there isn't that much I can do mentally that will change the fundamentals of my situation: I still have to do my job every day; I still have to live apart from Dave; I still have to experience this difficult transition; I still have to wait for future plans to become clear. But there are a few things that he told me in our sessions that I want to record, so I can remind myself about them in the future:

• I am not my job. We all wear multiple hats, but I often view myself solely as an academic, rather than remembering that I'm also an individual, wife, daughter, sister, friend, community member. My career is an important and significant aspect of my life, but it is only part of the whole.
• I cannot control anyone or anything beyond myself. When things go wrong at work, I can try my hardest to fix them and put the program on the best possible footing. But in each of the issues, there are multiple parties involved. I have to accept that sometimes things won't be fixed the way I want them to, and that's not my fault.
• I am not trapped and alone. As much as I feel weighed down by my job, I need to remember that I have freedom – I have a loving spouse, the support of my family, wonderful friends; I have the financial resources to pay my bills and live in a safe and comfortable place; I am healthy and young. This is just one stage of my life; I have to go through it, but it will eventually turn into a new stage, even if I stay in this same job for many years. And even if everything in my career goes disastrously downhill, I will not be abandoned to some kind of failed life.

It's time for me to put this knowledge into action and get it done! The next eight months are going to be a wild ride...

semi-anniversary

Dave and I got married six months ago today! I still remember the disbelief we felt when we woke up the day after the wedding: wait, are we really married? Did that just happen? Was it all a dream? I'm so glad it turned out to be real.

I don't have any wisdom to share, nor am I really able to process yet what has happened in the past six months. I'll need more time for that. I'm still unbelievably happy to be married to Dave. Sometimes, I hear people say that marriage didn't change their lives much. Maybe they had already lived together before marriage, or there were no other major life changes that occurred at the same time, so they had a chance to adjust to marriage gently and gradually. This wasn't the case for me: we had never lived together, and around the time of the wedding, I was also graduating, moving, and starting my first real job. Sometimes it feels like everything changed.

I can't say that the beginning of our marriage was how I had pictured marriage would be. Yes, we went on a lovely honeymoon. We get to live with each other sometimes. We are sharing our lives and learning what it means (i.e., how hard it is) to love someone as much as you love yourself. But there are some ways in which this beginning has felt traumatic to me: our time apart in August/September, when I realized that I couldn't do the long-distance thing anymore; the looming knowledge of separation in the winter; the delicate and complex dynamics of supporting each other's career goals, at possibly very real costs to one's own, etc. I've wanted to yell back at life, "I'm not ready! One thing at a time! This is TOO MUCH." There are silver linings, I know. I treasure each day we wake up in the same bed; I know in a deep way how precious our relationship is, and won't take it for granted in the future (I hope! keep me accountable).

Even though these trials have come, and I'm not exactly handling them as well as I would have hoped (see everything tagged "mental health"), I'm still grateful to have Dave as my partner and teammate, and for his patience with me. We are not out of the woods yet, in terms of career uncertainties and difficulties. But sometimes we say to each other, "Gosh, maybe there will come a day when we'll look back at this time and think, 'Boy, we had it easy then! All we had to worry about were our jobs!'" And maybe when that day comes, I'll be thankful for this early period, when we learned to listen carefully and encourage each other in a hard time.

a metamorphosis of sorts

An analogy I've been using lately to describe how I feel about my work is, "I feel like I'm being crushed like a bug." The combination of feeling burdensome responsibility without concomitant authority makes me feel weak and insignificant, powerless to push back against the forces pressing me into the ground.

Sarah, ever the innovative encourager, advised me not to think about myself as just any bug, but as a cockroach. That's right – they're impossible to kill, difficult to crush, and skillful evaders of danger (but too gross for illustrating in this post).

In high school, we caught a cockroach in the hallway (plenty to choose from!) and put it in a bell jar vacuum in the physics closet. We sucked all the air out of its spiracles and watched it collapse. We went to work on a project, came back a half hour later, released the vacuum, and then stared slack-jawed as the cockroach. came. back. to. life. With great respect, we released it back into the hallway.

I've frequently felt over the past few months that there's something pressing against my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. Sure, maybe that's a minor panic attack. Or maybe it's just the staging ground for an incredible comeback, à la vacuumed cockroach! Okay, no one actually believes it's the latter, but I am really taken with Sarah's suggestion. I don't need to be a graceful dragonfly or stunning butterfly, elegant and attractive. This doesn't need to be a narrative of victory and glorious triumph. I just need to survive, and maybe that is more possible than I realize right now.

not coping anymore

About a month ago, I wrote a post, "coping," about ways in which I was going to deal effectively with my anxiety and stress in this period. I can say with confidence that I've made a good faith effort in each category and even have some progress to show for it!

• Research: I've gotten my first two articles in press, and drafted most of a new article coming out of my dissertation. Not bad!
• Well-being: for the past six weeks, I have diligently run twice a week. I've been practicing a little yoga (though could do more), and have done a weekly 7-Minute Workout. I sleep regular hours, and have been cooking healthy foods (and baking plenty of treats) for me and Dave.
• Kindness: this category will never get a big check mark from me, unfortunately. But I'm glad that I've articulated it as a goal because it does motivate me to take the time to make a meal for someone, reach out to a friend going through a hard time, and be patient with the inefficient person ahead of me in line (why is this one always the hardest?).

So I'm sorry to report that I'm not coping anymore. I sometimes feel so overwhelmed that I can't breathe. I want to hide in my bed all day from anyone and everyone. The thought of checking my email makes me want to cry, and sometimes, actually makes me cry. It turns out that almighty Discipline has not been powerful to save me this month. 

For the first time in my life, I went to see a therapist today. I'd been hoping to put this off until I got back to New York, where my health insurance will provide some coverage. But my friends' gentle suggestions have become more urgent over time, and I decided that they were right. I'm glad I went, and over my last month and a half in Ann Arbor, I hope to gain new insights into why I feel so overwhelmed, while learning new techniques for managing my anxiety in this transitional time in life.

This isn't the sort of thing that I would normally publish on a non-password-protected blog. But I'm inspired by the work my cousin Stephanie is doing at the University of Waterloo with Stand Up to Stigma, a student initiative that fosters more open dialogue about mental health. I'm thankful for everyone in my life who has told me about their experiences with mental health treatment recently, and I want to be able to do the same.

San Diego Sun

Dave is giving a talk and a poster at a large conference in San Diego this weekend, so I've tagged along for the ride. Sunny southern California! This place seems like a different planet from the Midwest, especially at this time of year. We came out a day early, rented a car for the day from the hotel, and set out for some relaxation.

First, we walked around La Jolla, gawking at the fancy shops and wildlife alike. The cold and wild Pacific Ocean! With its sea lions, brown pelicans, and cormorants...

Then we drove further up the coast and spent the afternoon hiking in Torrey Pines State Reserve. It was fun to see the different kinds of rock formations and scrubby plants that manage to flourish on the mesas:

We watched the sun set over the Pacific – so much better than watching the sun rise over the Atlantic, not least because I'm awake at sunset! West Coast 1 - East Coast 0.

We then set off in search of our favorite San Diego meal: fish tacos! Chowhound directed us to Oscar's Mexican Seafood in Pacific Beach, and we couldn't have been more pleased:

This whole trip I can't stop wondering, are people in southern California less depressed than people in the Midwest or on the East Coast? I couldn't help but notice how active people seem to be, at least in the area near our hotel/convention center. Even middle-aged ladies who at first glance don't seem to be fitness fanatics are going for a walk along the bay in their loose-fitting khakis and sneakers during their lunch break. By contrast, in Michigan by this time of year, we are all already holing up for the winter, which will last another six months. Does living in a place of natural beauty, particularly of the sort that reminds you of how small you (and your problems) are relative to geologic time, help you keep things in perspective on a daily basis? Or do people here just learn to take the sunshine and warmth and vastness of the ocean for granted after a while? Clearly not everyone in Los Angeles is a happy camper...

creativity

Last night, Sarah and John hosted a really fun dinner. We feasted on tasty vegetarian dishes and stuffed ourselves with fall desserts. Rather uncharacteristically of me, I brought a crafty activity. Of course, this crafty activity was actually Dave's inspiration: balloon animals! He had learned to make one with his niece at a fair and was bitten by the balloon bug. He got us a pump, a beginner's book, and some balloons, and we all got into it:

Sarah with her brontosaurus

 John's creation: the "NAI"

Dave's toothy T-Rex

 A new headdress for Matt

 Fruit of the night's labor

We all enjoyed it more than I had anticipated. I was struck by everyone's intense concentration as they attempted something new, and the satisfaction that resulted from trying a new project, improving one's skills, and coming out with a fun final product! It made me think that I don't pursue enough "creative" projects in my life. Katie's blog, with its recent reflections on self-expression and photography, has also been stimulating my thinking. I'm too overwhelmed at the moment to take on new goals or hobbies, but I'd like to reframe some of the things I already do (like cooking or writing) as expressions of creativity to remind myself of the importance of making things.

coping

I've been thinking a lot recently about a conversation I had with my department chair several weeks ago. It seemed fairly unremarkable at the time, but my chair started our discussion by saying, "I was thinking about all the issues facing us right now, and I started to feel overwhelmed, so I sat down and made a list of things that we do actually have control over, and I wanted to share them with you." Now I realize that he was teaching me about how to survive in this job: focus on what you can actually control.

Part of the issue with adjusting to my job is that the boundaries between what I can or can't control are not yet obvious to me. This is probably due to my inexperience. A crisis will arise, and I will respond as if there's something I can do about it; it won't become clear until later that the issue was out of my hands the entire time. This is frustrating, but educational, and I'll learn.

At the moment, there are some things I know I can control. I want to focus on them over the next several weeks:

• Research: this is my time to bang out some articles. Although my job still makes demands on my time, I do have the time and space to focus on my work. I need to make the most of it, because when this time is over, it won't be nearly as easy to spend an afternoon reading and writing. When I was sick of finishing my dissertation, I never imagined how precious I would consider my research time!
• Well-being: the main assaults on my mental health are job-related stress and anxiety about getting Dave and myself to the same geographic location on a permanent basis; these are both long-term issues that will take some time to address. But what I can do now is make the effort to cook and eat healthfully, be disciplined about getting enough rest, and exercise (e.g., running twice a week and meditation of some form). These don't directly address the stressors, but I hope they'll make me stronger and more flexible (mentally and physically) when I have to deal with them.
• Kindness: yeah, I'm pretty stressed out. But I have so much to be thankful for, and I can practice my thankfulness by being kind to others. I remember this little tiff I had with a woman in my choir back in 2005, when I was stressed out about applying for graduate schools. I was so sleepy during rehearsal, that I was reading a magazine when the sopranos were not actively rehearsing to stay awake. The woman behind me scolded me, which made me indignant. She emailed me later that night to apologize, saying that she had been out of line. I responded by explaining that I was sleep-deprived because I was going through a lot of stress, and she replied to say that she totally understood – her mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's the previous year, and she had had to put her in a nursing home, and bring her father home to live with her – and that I could call her anytime I needed someone to talk to. Umm, yeah you win, lady! I should have been more gracious towards her in her outburst. I've been trying to remember that lesson ever since: you never know what's going on in the lives of people around you, and a small gesture of kindness may go a long way in someone else's life.

Just typing out these plans have made me feel a little better. My hope is that at the end of the next few months, though I'm unsure about where things will stand on various issues with my program, I'll be able to say that I was disciplined about my research goals, worked to stay sound in mind and body, and was kind to others (esp. Dave!).

Ups and Downs

I returned with Dave to Michigan three days ago. I was overjoyed to be reunited with him, and felt such lightness on our ten-hour drive back. Who knew I would ever be so happy to be in Michigan? My first three years of graduate school here were miserable. I still remember that sinking feeling in my chest every time I would pilot my car onto the "PA Turnpike West" ramp, after a visit home. How could I belong in a place with such squat buildings, flat landscapes, and provincial norms? Now the universe has the last laugh – what a thrill to have a large apartment, clean air, plentiful parking, and friendly strangers! Haha, silly me.

I busied myself with unpacking, getting back into the swing of my research projects, and cooking for Dave. I thought that the anxieties and tears of the past several weeks were left behind, at least for the next few months! But they came roaring back last night. Just when I thought I could start sleeping deeply and restfully again, I had a four-hour session of sleeplessness over job worries. How to solve the seemingly intractable issues at work? How to balance my need to be productive in my research now while also moving my agenda forward in New York? How to ensure that Dave and I will be settled in the same place as soon as possible?

Dave always reminds me to make the most of each moment and to take everything day-by-day. My insomnia last night is evidence that this doesn't come easily to me. Suggestions, friends?

on the verge

Since mid-August, I've cried every day. It's usually not a torrent of heaving sobs; it's just a few tears here and there. That is, I'm constantly on the verge of tears, and some small thing will push me over, however briefly. All this to say, I'm having some adjustment issues.

Obviously, a lot of this has to do with being apart from Dave. But we've been long-distance before: I've spent at least a good chunk of the past three summers in New York, and we were apart for a full year when I lived in Europe during graduate school. Somehow, this feels different. Even though I know we have a decent situation and that it could be much, much worse, I still find the separation overwhelming. And I can't figure out why!

When I'm being gentle with myself, I remember that I've been through a lot of changes in the past year. Even though most of them have been really positive, it can still be tiring to have to adapt to new identities and new places repeatedly. Also, Dave and I didn't live together before the wedding, so we've only enjoyed the pleasure of building a home together for a few months. Now that we're living separately, it feels as though we've moved backwards, rather than forwards. I keep asking him, "We're really married, right?" For someone who's newly and happily married, I feel oddly heartbroken.

And maybe my inability to cope is related to some unrealistic expectations: marriage would fix everything. So I'm shocked and depressed that I'm still asking myself many of the same questions I asked when single: What should I do this weekend to keep from feeling so lonely? What new hobbies could I explore to pass the time? Should I think about freezing my eggs?

I need to adjust so that I can function better. I'm trying to exercise more, so that I'll sleep better, and I'm making the effort to seek out time with friends and family nearby. And maybe I need to accept the idea that I won't feel whole or happy and just live with it. I consulted a wise friend who's had too much experience with being apart from her significant other, and she wrote, "In many ways it just feels like I shut the door on part of my emotional life for a while, and try to remain as upbeat as possible about other things." It doesn't sound easy, but perhaps that's the most pragmatic way to go. Coping mechanisms, anyone?