It’s been a little over a year since I’ve started my PhD. It’s been, well, mostly good. The panicking, the crying, and the sense of despair have been balanced by the joy of good feedback, a sense of achievement, and above all, doing what I actually love, even when I bitch like hell about it. Because even doing things you love can seem like a pain the arse when you’d really like to be doing that other thing you love which doesn’t have a deadline.
Doing my PhD has already taught me a few things. It’s affected my fibromyalgia – and been affected in turn – in new and interesting ways. As well as some old and frankly boring ones. I’ve met some lovely people, online and at conferences and talks, including the awesome people who volunteered to let me into their lives and be participants (and answer some really weird, nosey questions). I’ve been introduced to some ideas that I’ve loved or hated or just made me think, that have changed how I’m approaching my research entirely, or confirmed some of my suspicions that while I may or may not be barking up the wrong tree, I am not the only one doing so. It’s been awesome.
And, in the grand tradition of avoiding doing some work, I’ve made a list of the things I’ve learnt.
1. Say no
Whether it’s because you don’t have the time, or because you straight up don’t want to, say no. I’ve got shit to be getting on with. Sometimes that shit is sitting on the sofa, eating crisps, and doing sweet fuck all, but still, I’ve got shit to do. I have finite energy – you do too, even if your reserves are decidely larger than mine – and I have learnt that I can’t do everything that everyone wants me to do. So I have to say no – whether it’s to going out with friends (it frequently is, and my friends are the best for understanding this) or reading a book or travelling to an event. Most people have been understanding.
This is why I’ve quit my job, at least for the rest of the year, to focus on my PhD. I do, mostly, like teaching. However, this particular teaching role was throwing up demands on my body and mind that were impacting my priorities in life – I have been bitchy and I haven’t had the energy to be the person I want to be, or to do the things I want to do – or even the things I need to do. I’m lucky; G is immensely supportive, hugely helpful, and he does the hoovering. I like the income. But I need to refocus and get on with my research and my writing, and teaching EFL to teenagers wasn’t helping. So I’ve quit and it feels great.
2. I don’t need that in my life
If you can’t acknowledge that I might know what I need or want, and that I do know what I’m doing – or, conversely, that I still have the right to go ahead and do it anyway – then I do not need you in my life. If you can’t get over my disability, I do not need you in my life. If my disability (or whatever) is such a barrier to our friendship, or you employing me, or you speaking to me politely – guess what? I don’t want to be your friend/employee/colleague/whatever. So long, farewell, fuck the fuck off.
Seriously though. One of the bits about radical self care is this: don’t feel you have to keep someone in your life if they’re sucking your soul. Which is not to say I’m going to dump friends just because they’re having a shitty day/week/year; we all do, and sometimes depression makes everything harder. But it is to say that I don’t need sources of hate in my life, and I can’t win everyone over to the dark side with the power of my personality and swear-filled arguments, so I will choose my battles and my friends.
3. Say yes
Having just said all that – I have learnt to say yes. Yes to the things I want to do, the things I need to do, and especially to the things that mean I’ll be utterly useless for days after but I hope it’ll be worth it. I don’t always say yes – but I try to, especially when it’s something that might be fun, or open my mind.
4. Down time is sacred
I have a rule: unless there’s something urgent that needs to be done by tomorrow (or worse, by yesterday), I always have a few hours to watch TV, knit, cook, walk the dogs – time to live, in a quiet, low-energy way. G and I have some tv programmes we watch together – I have several I watch alone. I like cooking dinner for us. We can talk and eat and bitch about the things that need bitching about, and it helps keep me from going batshit insane.
5. Own your weaknesses and limitations
They’re not something to be ashamed of. And in talking about it, I’ve found other people will also talk about it. I hope that, maybe, it’ll help someone else decide they can do a PhD and see that it’s not all stress and working yourself into the ground and crying. Sometimes it’s fun and the hard work is manageable, and you can do it while being chronically ill and constantly shattered. Or at least you can do the first year. Fuck knows what the rest is going to be like.