(56) in the thick of it
i am deep in the writing process.
it hasn’t been easy, but it has been somewhat enjoyable — the same form of enjoyment you get from completing a grueling workout. it can get pretty hard at a time, your tank gets empty, and you might feel like calling it quits, but if you persist through the pain and the exhaustion (or so i am told) finishing can feel like quite an accomplishment. (tell me, PhD readers, is this true?)
a friend of mine recently asked if i was feeling motivated. and the truth is, unlike a few months ago, i am not motivated in the slightest. the sheer scope and weight of the PhD, the amount of literature i have yet to cover, the amount of pages i have yet to write, the amount of loose ends my brain has to tie, and knots i have to untie, scare me. bad.
but i am nothing if not disciplined, and so i have pushed. the only way out is through. with more or less interruptions, i have made the best of my very limited, extremely fractioned and fractured time.
i have a plan that i’ve been following and failing to follow, equally. but still, i am ahead of the game, and en route to submitting when i decided to submit. so that is good.
i wish, long and pray for unbridled, uninterrupted, long writing days, 8-12hrs of writing not interspersed with distractions. and the days were promised, they were earned, but they are seldom granted. in between the awful and ungrateful commute to and from lisbon in peak rush hour to get a to, or pick up a from school (which shaves off nearly 2h of my day, not counting how it cuts my working day short if i pick her up, since i am unable to get back to my office in solitude and have my reasoning interrupted), i am ever annoyed by the presence and motions of my own household.
i was thinking of metaphors, and somehow saying that the phd is a marathon doesn’t feel quite right. a masters thesis is a marathon, a postgraduate degree is a marathon, a phd is a long distance trail through rocky terrain, scorching desert, frigid peaks, through the night, especially catered for endurance looneys that sign a waiver letting the organization off the hook in the event of injury, disability or death. and in my case, it’s a long distance trail that i have committed to finishing in half of the statutory time, just because. (that thought in itself is pretty chilling).
this has probably been the loneliest endeavor of my life. and right now, in the thick of it, i feel the loneliest i have ever been.
i notice my feelings, i observe. i don’t think i have ever felt so alone when with other people, my people, the people closest to me and who know me better. the worst kind of lonely there is. i feel utterly alone with my husband, with my daughter, with my parents, with my friends. i feel a degree of separation from everyone else as tangible as the grand canyon, and i want to scream through the void, drown the echo and say “hellooooo??? is anyone there??”
i feel less lonely with people who have gone through this experience before, and they all can relate to the insurmountable solitude. i think that solitude plays a part in the ethos, the psyche, the zeitgeist of the phd. and this amount of loneliness can make anyone go loopy (phd psychosis, anyone?), but maybe it is what it takes to churn a dissertation out. i have always known this, theoretically, but a bit like the philosophical problem of qualia, you can know it abstractly, but you don’t really know how it is unless you’ve been through it.
socially, i often feel like i get irremediably lost in translation, and i can’t communicate my needs effectively. i don’t have the brainlenght, the emotional capacity, the concentration or the eloquence to say what i mean, express what i need, to others. and so i bite my tongue and sit in silence, feeling unseen, unheard, through no fault of others or my own.
companionship is tricky. i have limited rest days, and i need to rest, but the days inevitably get filled with social functions, and obligations, engagements, events. and in these i get anxious, because i feel a bit like an olympian pre-meet, in the sense that i should either be training or giving my body the rest it needs to give it my all and execute the best performance i have in me.
phds are not the end-all academic work. they are the beginning of your professoral life. like my wise (and phd) friend m was saying, they are your last work as a student. still, i need the adequate fuel (both physical nourishment, as well as spiritual, social, emotional) and plentyyyy of rest so that i am able to get to the finish line.
it’s hard. i guess that’s why so many people sign up for it and fail to submit. still, it’s hard to convey the toll this is, on your body, on your mind, on your soul. the price you pay in terms of absence, putting a pause on being anything else [insert all other roles: mother/daughter/wife/friend/professional] but a phd researcher for a time. the brain power this takes me makes me fall asleep exhausted in the couch at 10pm, mid-conversation, almost every single evening. it feels like pregnancy, labor, childbirth and postpartum, all over again. just without the accompanying practical support or understanding from other people. it sucks!
at night, i dream of running. i dream of running in the dark. running with a headlamp for guidance, through muddy and rainy trails in the mountains, misty shrowds, rain showers, in the thick summer air, up and down slippery slopes, skidding my way through pages and pages, crashing down on leaves and sheets of paper, getting hit in the arm and sratched by tree and book branches. i dream i am either surrendering, running in the zone, footfalls for compass, or that i am pumped full of adrenaline, chased by a bear, falling on a freezing agitated creek, losing track of the mileposts. alternatively, i lose sight of the race and begin chasing something. What? (…tenure!). and i dream of the unapproving faces of the judges of my toil… i dread the release i will feel with submission. the resentment i will feel after this is done. (for myself and others alike). but alas, i must live in the present.
during the day, i have procrastinated by exercising. lifting heavy weights, swimming. running has taken me both out and very much into my mind. i run in silence, thinking through the curves and turns that lay ahead, the arguments that i’ve left behind. i listen to podcasts of oct 7th survivors, i read opeds on the middle eastern war. i meditate to focus and garner my strenght. and my zensunni mindset takes me away from the drama that i watch unfold before my eyes. i walk, and walk and walk, as if the kilometers can solve all my troubles.
when i drive, i disassociate. sometimes i get to the destinaton with no memory of going there in the first place. when i sit in the couch, after a long day of writing, exercising, being mindful, tending to family needs, i feel like i am having an out of body experience. my mind roams and scrolls the dissertation freely… reviews the avenues i have opened, the questions i posed.
and i daydream of the future. of the beit din in london, of retaking hebrew classes, of the next courses i will sign up for, the travelling i have to do, new research centers and projects to be a part of, new teaching duties and activities, a new freedom to engage with the university, more time with my family and friends, trying for a second baby.
i have worked some, more than i expected, outside of my dissertation. i had exams to supervise and grade, oral exams to give out, conferences to speak in and events to attend. all in all, especially with the demands of a family life and a’s mysterious illnesses lasting well into summer, this has been a more eventful couple of months i could have ever anticipated. i met with the palestinian ambassador and the president of the lawyers’ bar of palestine. i heard a conference, and then i reached out in private. for 40 minutes i talked, i listened, i held hands and cried with the palestinian ambassador. there is a special kind of pain shared between peoples that i don’t think outsiders are privy to. and unless they are voyeurs, maybe they shouldn’t.
a lot of big feelings and emotions have gotten me feeling displaced in the past year. displaced in my privilege, displaced in the viewpoints i have the advantage of getting, shorn away from things that have always been familiar. yet, i find it reassuring to remember that i thrive most in discomfort. both for the phd and for everything else…
i am 270 pages in and about 180 pages away from my loose-target. the thesis is not measured in meters, but in terms of substance, but still i’d say it’s a pretty accurate estimation of how long i have to go. i don’t know if i’ll be able to finish the “shitty first draft” before logging off for holidays on the 1st of august, like i had planned and idealized, but darnit if i’ll try. and try and try. and after the holidays then i still have a month and a half until i hand it over to my supervisor. so i’m feeling tired, but pretty confident i am able to do it. better or worse, i will do it.
f.