Once upon a PhDreary....

The last couple of weeks have been quite the emotional roller coaster.  I recently compared this feeling of anxiety to that of a serious breakup -- you know, with the butterflies in the stomach and the inability to eat and all that stuff.  Only, that anxiety has been going on for weeks instead of days.

I've been saying lately that the dumbest thing a smart person can do is get a PhD.  This is semi-true.  First off, it's a number of years that you subject yourself to constant judgement from others where you either feel like you're being micromanaged or you're not getting enough help, and probably nothing really in between that.  Secondly, most people in science geta job as a postdoc when they get out and postdocs make barely enough to live on!

Mostly, I've been really hating these last couple of weeks because it's been a lot of stress.  First, I had a matter of days to edit my 200+ page dissertation.  After I included my advisor's edits, I realized that I wasn't positive she actually read the whole thing, but... she said I could send it out....  Then, I had to prepare for an hour-long oral presentation on my work.  I hate formal presentations.  I don't even like talking in class.  I really, really don't like it when super smart people fire questions rapidly at me and I'm the sole person to raise my sword and fight back.

So that brings us to the mantra.  A friend of mine last year introduced me to this mantra, which I'm pretty sure comes from the movie Finding Nemo, but whatever.

Keep on swimming.

Keep on swimming.

Now, it's good that I am who I am.  I'm pretty independent.  I'm not a crier.  I do well at picking myself up.  But, man, I just about lost it today.  The weight of it all and then, the inspirational words given to me by my mentor included only something along the lines of: "You're smart.  But you have to speak confidently, else everyone will jump all over you."  Something about sensing weakness and vulnerability.  It's like we're in the jungle, and I better be the lion.  So, lemme roar a little.  

Nonetheless, the answer to my mantra tonight: "I'm mother effing Michael Phelps."

I guess that doesn't fit well with my jungle theme, but I'm sort of all over the place right now.  What do you expect.

12.5 hrs and I will have proved myself to all .... And you can call me "Docta'."