…and I keep throwing them away. Maybe I’ll never graduate. Maybe I’m supposed to be an ESL elementary school teacher forever. I’m starting to get comfy in my teacher jumper. I’m starting to see myself doing this in the … Continue reading
Has it been a month already? Tomorrow’s the dreaded thesis seminar again and for the first time I’m not sure I’m showing up. I may not be able to handle it. I still haven’t answered back to my tutor’s email … Continue reading
Wow, feels like forever since I’ve been here. Not only have I missed blogging every single day, I’m also afraid (as silly as it may seem) that if I don’t keep up with my posts as I used to, I’m … Continue reading
Today I received an email from one of the people I’ve grown most afraid of: my tutor. It’s been a month since I saw her, first at her office and then at the thesis seminar. She seemed pleased with the … Continue reading
There is no day that goes by without someone checking out my post Writing a thesis while being depressed, mission impossible? It is by far the most read post on this blog, some examples of the search words that lead … Continue reading
Been sitting here for two hours looking at my attempt of a draft of my final chapter of the Frankenthesis. It’s not really the last chapter, it’s the second one, but it’s the only one I’m missing. Have to deliver it by Friday so that it can be checked and read by the people at the dreaded thesis seminar. I’ve gotten extension after extension, and this is the last chance I have of delivering it. I honestly think I’m in danger of losing my tutor. This isn’t wat she signed up. She’s not my mother, nor my therapist, nor my friend. She’s a successful academic who accepted to work with a high performance student, and what she got is a depressed, washed up , insecure cry baby who can’t manage to write down a chapter without a breakdown.
If I finish on Friday, I’ll be done with my self-created monster. Not DONE done, but I’ll be on the other side, on the much greener (or so I think) grass of corrections and editing. If only I could have it done by Friday I’d have one less stone to carry around. But as I was saying, I’ve been wasting my time for two hours and produced exactly 2 paragraphs, one of which I erased. And so, I come here to whine in the totally realistic hopes that ideas will magically flow into my mind and I’ll just have to write them down.
Today was a better day though, I don’t want to sound like I’m still swimming in the same misery pond I was on Sunday and Monday, let’s say I’m just dipping my feet in those waters. Panic has receded into anxiety, and after the f*cking Science Fair was over and done with at school (something I hated so much I didn’t even blog about), and I managed to gain a small victory against the infernal online system that runs the reviews I’m working for, I managed to ease up on the apprehensive state of shock I was in.
Anyhow, I guess this is me reporting I’m back from the land of despair where I’ve been approved a resident’s visa. Lovely trip, the sightseeing is amazing. Here’s a pic I had taken while I was there, fun times!
Being having panic moments since yesterday. I start sweating like crazy, my heartbeats rise, and I feel like I could die. And I want to die. I actually dreamt I was about to be killed by a lunatic and in my dream I just closed my eyes and hoped that he did it, I didn’t put up a fight, I just lowered my arms and silently waited for him to slash my throat. Nice huh?
I wanted to write yesterday about how I was feeling, but nothing sounded right. Perhaps because nothing IS right. Some of the stuff I was writing yesterday looked like this little draft I forgot to erase:
My life’s just too much for me. I’m glad it’s Sunday because I can’t handle Monday. I’m a chronic underachiever. Not only have I been given an education and basic needs covered, I’ve been blessed with some level of talent, wits, and common sense. And yet, I keep complaining about life, get into financial troubles, am stuck in the final chapter of my thesis, and single-handedly manage to make my life miserable. Because lets face it, blaming your parents can only get you so far. Why am I not stronger? Why I am sick? I guess I just wish I wasn’t such a loser.
Mr. Shrinky says my dream was very important because I’m learning to cope in different ways other than self-harm. I haven’t cut despite of how overwhelmed I feel. Instead I dreamt that someone else did it for me, and come to think about it, the dream has indeed helped because I haven’t felt that horrible urge all day long even when I’ve had such a dreadful one.
I feel like I’m doing a fool’s dance. One step forward, two steps back. It may have been some sort of breakthrough…but that doesn’t change the fact that my life is too much for me. People are starting to be condescendent with me: they are nicer, they let me get away with whatever’s on my mind, they look at me and stop themselves from saying things that may hurt me. Because they feel (or know) I’m weak, I can’t handle stuff, I’m broken. Ugh…
Today I made a huuuge fool of myself. I wanted to start digging and get in the ground, cover myself real good with dirt, and never, EVER come out again. And what’s worse is that if it hadn’t been for this gigantic embarrassment, my day would’ve been fine, maybe even a little better. But now my day is ruined and I’ll go in the record as the dumbest attempt at a student ever.
I think I’m gonna have to divide what actually happened in two parts. The first is the good part of my day, something I had been looking forward to, and the second is the self-inflicted torture that ruined my day, and possible a lot more days to come.
So the first part goes like this: I’ve been offered a job at my uni’s historical institute (a.k.a. Mount Olympus), I’ll be working as an assistant to two of their journals. This was made possible thanks to a dear dear teacher for whom I’ve worked as an assistant before and who (as what happened later only confirms) thinks just too much of me. He suggested me for the position to the other editors when it became vacant, and it was thanks to him that they chose me over a several other candidates, without so much as an interview. Today was the first time I was meeting 2 of them (there are four editors, two of them were absent: my professor and another one whom I didn’t know). I was excited because I was going to find out everything about what it is they want me to do and the whole nine yards basically. So I left my job at 3:30 and not a second earlier, drove like crazy to try to be there at 4 like they had asked me to, and made it at 4:10 more or less. I met two of the editors and they laid out their plans, and everything was dandy. And this is where it gets ugly and complicated.
There was another business I had to attend at the institute, I had a thesis seminar my tutor signed me up for. At the time (it started back in December)she let me know I had to attend it once a month on a day where I had failed yet again to meet the deadline for a chapter, and she looked pissed
with good reason. This seminar includes undergraduate, graduate, and doctorate students who are in the process of writing our respective dissertations, and this made me feel absolutely unsuited for the whole thing. How could my thesis, a simple, probably boring, not even from a history major, undergraduate dissertation, be compared to an eloquent thesis for a doctorate in History??? But up to today I’d managed to keep my head above water, reading the texts and managing to open my mouth without letting the butterflies escape. Yep, up to today.
This week however, I didn’t manage to fully read one of the two texts that we were going to discuss; I was a lazy ass and quite frankly forgot about reading them until yesterday. I read one and about three thirds of the other one last night on my laptop and didn’t write down my notes. I arrived late to the thing (it also started at 4), and was almost immediately asked to provide my feedback for the text I didn’t finish. It was the first chapter of a graduate dissertation and a damn good text, but I didn’t really have much to say besides that. I should’ve been honest and say I hadn’t had time to work on it, however for a split second I thought I could wing it. Guess what…I couldn’t. I started babbling without saying anything remotely articulated, and then… I just couldn’t shut up!! I looked like president Peña Nieto on a streak. I went on and on talking without saying something for about two minutes that felt like 2 hours, with 7 people staring at me waiting for a mildly reasonable idea to come out of my mouth, until a kind soul put me out of my misery by saying “why don’t you just think about it, and we’ll go back to you?”. I wanted to open the window and just escape, but that’s not even it!
It was bad enough making a complete fool of myself in front of all of them, but it just gets worse. This guy who gave me an out was the other professor who’s responsible for the seminar besides my tutor, but as I was about to find out, that’s not the only way I’m connected to him. When the seminar was over and I thought I could begin to recover from my humiliation….this same professor approaches me and tells me he wants to see me in his cubicle… as he is the other absent editor I’m supposed to work for!! I just felt like dropping dead right there.
So I went to his cubicle where he explained details he considered important for me to know about my new job, but all I could really do was wonder if he was thinking something on the line of: “THIS??? REALLY??? THIS is the girl I’ve been told about?? This mediocre, dumb, insecure loser is who I’m supposed to trust my journal to?”
God, just remembering this makes me want to die all over again. And I feel like cutting again. Bad. Something’s different though, I feel like calling Mr. Shrinky. He and N always tell me to call them when I get like this. Most times it doesn’t even cross my mind. Sometimes it does but I dismiss it like the stupidest thing I could do. But today… I wanna talk to him. I probably won’t, I’m not strong enough to call, and don’t have the privacy to do so either, so maybe, for the second time today, I’ll see if I can wing it.
I’m happy to report that I’ve finished the chapter I was working on, I still have to review it, but I’ve done what I can with it and I’ve stopped being mad at my thesis. I’m gonna take the rest of the afternoon to do the proofreading and I’m gonna take a look at the last chapter missing, and if it all goes well tomorrow I’ll be working on it.
Today my horizon seems quite brighter than yesterday’s, I don’t know exactly what happened but when the sun went to bed, I completely freaked out, I mean, lost it. I Kept having SH thoughts that were kind of hard to restrain in some moments (though I managed to), and I just felt so terrible about myself for not finishing the chapter already. Then, when I wasn’t beating myself up I was busy being immersed in self-pity, I wanted to cry because things have been so hard on me, because I didn’t have anyone to comfort me, because I lost the first place in my class (yeah, that’s how much of a nerd and obsessive I am), I think I would’ve cried if Sylvester would’ve so much as left my side.
By the way, I haven’t talked much about him but you should know he’s my baby boy, the one that makes me look like a crazy cat lady (not saying I’m not), and the most spoiled one of my kitties too. So without further ado I present you, Mr. Sylvester Bombon:
But as I was saying, it all got better in the morning, ran some errands in the morning and when I started working on Frankenthesis I was on fire! I just hope I can keep up this speed, it’s be about time!
Why is it so hard? Is it supposed to be like this? I swear I’ve been working all day and when I looked, I realized I’d only written about 2 pages and still have at least four more pages to write. When I was still taking courses it wasn’t so hard. I could sit down at 8 o’clock at night, maybe even 9 or 10, and I could write down a 15 pages long essay that was due the next morning, and still get a pretty good grade. Where is that girl? I need her so very much.
I just feel so desperate, it’s like swimming real hard to get to the shore, but you’re barely moving because the tide is so strong, and you see the shore, and you know you’re close, but you just can’t get there and you get so tired and frustrated you feel you’re gonna drown any second. That’s how I feel. I hope it goes away soon. I hope the apple cinnamon tea I just made for myself washes these feelings away.
I need to write two 25 pages long chapters for Jan 15. Right now I’ve been working on one that’s already 21 pages long, but I just can’t seem to be able to finish it. The other one… well I don’t even want to look at it but it must be about 8 pages long
if I’m lucky.
BF says it’s normal, that it’s only my second day back after the Xmas break, that it’s not acceptable to say I can’t, I’m just simply off-court and need to get back on track. Maybe I’m just too hasty and terrible at waiting to see results.
I do have to say the comments from yesterday’s post helped a lot, and I’m already following your advice so I hope to see the outcome soon.
Anyways, my rant is over. Thanks for bearing with me. I’ll now get back to working on my little monster.
I don’t consider me a New Year’s Day Grinch, but I do wonder what the fuzz is all about. The firts day of the year is always a dead day, nobody’s out on the street, everything’s closed, and your supposed to enjoy the quietness and calm around you. Well, I don’t. Even more, this calm worries me because I fear that’s one of the reasons why Sundays are so hard on me. That’s what it’s come to, I’m feeling just a hint of a chest pain, but I’m terribly scared of what it may become as the day goes by, because it can get so strong it amazes me it doesn’t kill me. So I’m gonna try to keep busy, probably reading and working on the Frankenthesis. I haven’t finished a couple of books and I might get to that.
As for the thesis, I didn’t deliver what I was supposed to in December, and now I have a lot more work to get done by Jan 15th, and I’m not sure how exactly I’m going to manage to get it done. If only I’d type on it as many words as I have on this blog, I’m sure I would’ve finished it by now 🙄 and I have to admit I need all the cheering up I can get to work hard and maybe finish what I’m supposed to.
This time around, New Year’s Day is reminding me of everything I didn’t accomplish, of all the different ways I messed up, and all the problems I got myself into, money being the most worrying one. I guess I’m feel a little ripped out because people act as if on Jan 1st everybody got a clean slate, and I don’t see that. What I see is a reminder that time keeps going by, it doesn’t stop and everything we do keeps adding to our tab.
All I got left, and I realize it’s a very big thing, is the hope that things will get better, and man do I need a brighter horizon to keep me going right now! Hope is the fuel that so many times keeps our engines running when all evidence says there’s no point. And today I can be thankful that I do feel the warmth of hope (however small it may be) in my heart to keep me going.
I realize this is a bittersweet post (that’s a little more bitter than sweet), but still let me take the time to wish you all a happy 2013 full of happy moments and goals achieved, and a year that brings you as least sorrow as possible! 🙂
I have to hand in the third chapter of the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named on Friday, and this is more of a death-line than a deadline, since I’m absolutely convinced the world will end if I don’t*. I’m missing about 8 pages, so that’s about 2 pages per day, doesn’t sound too bad right? When I put it like that it looks perfectly doable, and yet instead of working in on it I’m writing a post.
The fourth and first chapters are done, so when I hand this one in, I’ll only be missing the second one, which has about 30% of its contents written. My problem is not so much the quantity as much as the quality of the writing. I have such a big lack of confidence that I can’t tolerate the thought of putting my incompetence out there in a piece of paper for everyone to see and probably laugh at. And I’m honestly terrified of my dissertation, it’s crushing not only my confidence but my every goal and hope in life. I can’t shake off the feeling of the huge desapointment I’ll be for everyone and for myself if I never finish it and honestly, this is an option that’s starting to appear on the horizon, as opposed to the new paths and possibilities opened for people my age that are graduating. I’ve started seeing it all the time thanks to the wonders of Facebook: What’s-his-name from elementary school just got his degree and now is going to backpack through Europe, there’s the girl who always annoyed the shit out of me getting married and having perfect babies, and oh don’t forget the armies of former classmates going off to graduate school abroad.
My bottom line is Facebook sucks ass. And that’s the main reason why I’ve deserted it. I don’t need the constant reminders of what a failure I am and how my life is going nowhere. What’s worse is that facebooking has become some sort of obligation and people constantly pressure me into loging in and checking this or that, and when I don’t, for them it’s like I’ve stopped caring because I’ve missed a lot of the stuff that’s going on with them. In order to stop that, I’ve been logging once every other week and take some minutes to see what I’ve missed, that’s about all the facebook I can take right now and I do hope people stop taking it personally. Also, I just can’t deal right now with the I’m-always-so-happy image that most people put up in their profiles. I think when I’m done with this torture that my thesis is, maybe I’ll be able to go back to it for the things I enjoy about it, like the political expressions and being more in touch with the people I know, or the cat pictures! 😉
* I’d be so great if the world would end on the D-21st, I wouldn’t have to finish my thesis! 😀
I absolutely adore Japanese food. I could it eat every day for the rest of my life. The rice, the noodles, the sushi, the soups, all of it. So yesterday, after yet another gray day, I decided the higlight of it could be treating myself with some sushi. Around 5pm I ordered some rice and a roll from my favorite place. I didn’t have dinner and for a change I went to bed not too late, only to wake up at 2 in the morning feeling so nauseous I could barely make it on time to the bathroom. I don’t know how many times I puked before the sickness went down to my stomach and D (no, not depression, the other D) made it’s grand appeareance.
Long story short, when it was time to get up and go to work I was a wreck and had to ask willingly for the sadistic procedure of getting an injection. I just can’t afford to skip another day of work, especially not today. Good news is the kids got out early today so I only had to teach 3 classes. Bad news is they got out early because we the teachers are in for one of our monthly marathonical meetings so I’m stuck here until 4 in the afternoon (in case you are putting two and two together, yes, I’m writing this post while I should be working. Bad employee, bad, bad employee 😉 )
The thing I’m wondering is, does it ever get any easier? I mean working. Or is it always gonna be a struggle while I’m dealing with D (no, not the stomach-D, the other one) Because it’s been almost four months since I started here and it’s not getting easier. Or is it difficult because this is not my passion? What I want to do is research. For those of you who don’t know, I studied Latin American Studies and I’m specializing in Gender History. Now THAT is my passion. Except I can’t go after it until I finish the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named, and so the vicious circle continues.
I haven’t been writing in the past few days because I’ve been feeling like I have nothing else to say, guess I’m still in my meh phase, trapped in robot-mode, and I’m so sick of it!
Work’s better, with a little help from my partner I have managed to stop being late and go back to having enough time in the morning to get me some coffee on the way to school, which makes it easier to do my job. I think I’m getting used to it (I just started at this school in mid-August), but it’s still hard having to deal with it AND with my thesis, which is not comming to good (or not at all I might say).
The kitties are fine, getting bigger and stronger, they’re going to their permanent home this week, and I’m gonna miss them so much. With the help of meds they did beat the skin fungus, the bad news is now my cats have it and need to be medicated as well. Now that the babies are going I’ll have more time to focus on helping my cats beat it as well.
In other news, I’m thinking about quitting therapy. I’m just not sure it’s helping me anymore. The crisis keep comming and it’s been months since I felt I made some real progress. Also, I certainly could use the money; half my paycheck is going to my mental health, be it therapy or meds, and as much as I try to stretch the other half I’m just not making ends meet. It’s a very hard and unfair decision to have to choose between your mental well-being and your personal finances health, but I’m getting pretty close to having to do just that.
It does worry me that maybe I won’t be able to cope with my issues, but how not to be depressed if I’m not having enough money for my expenses? Money problems are certainly not the cause of my depression and I’m sure that even if I didn’t have issues with it I would still be depressed, but the problem here is that I don’t want money to be just another aggravating factor.
I’m just thinking out loud and probably won’t make a decision like that in the remaining time this year has left, but I am worried and it’s something that’s on my mind.
Today my long weekend ends. I really needed it, thank goodness for Mexican Revolution. However, I do have to go to work tomorrow. I do have to face a thesis seminar and I do have to face my tutor. It’s not a matter of wether or not I can take it, it’s is a matter of last chances. Tomorrow I have the obligation of not f*ucking up. As of this moment I feel sort of capable, I hope to continue feeling that tomorrow morning.
It’s just so hard getting out of bed in the morning. Once I manage to do that, it’s usually already a little bit late and I have to run, which makes me very anxious all day long. If I could only not feel sick, if I wasn’t sick, I know I’d have finished my thesis already, I know I’d enjoy my job, and I know I’d be on may way to graduate school. The worst part is having to lie about it, because no matter what people say, being severly depressed is frowned upon. And even though I don’t want to, even though I should know better, people’s view on my performance affect my own personal view of myself. I’ll feel like an irresponsible whining baby because I can’t comply with what’s expected from me.
And when I stop being so hard on myself, still I can’t shake off the failure sensation. I can’t forget that I used to be the shining star of my undergraduate generation, the one everybody consulted before handing in papers, the pride of teachers, and a girl who had her act pretty much together ALL the time.
I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know where she went and I don’t know if she’s ever comming back. I sure do hope so because I miss her. I can only wonder how she managed to handle everything, not just her everyday stuff but also the garbage that keeps me a complete mess and forces me to be medicated and go to therapy three times a week.
There are flashes when I feel everything will get better, and periods of time when I do feel better, but even when that happens I can’t forget I’m not what I used to be, I don’t forget my utter failure in all of my goals, and I don’t forget there are still battles comming up ahead.
Damn, I’ve written a sad post again, and I’m not even feeling that sad. Come to think about it, maybe writing all this stuff helps me chanalize it instead of feeling it on my flesh. It has always been this way, except before I only wrote when pain was piercing me and now, sometimes I’m able to hit the keyboard at the first sign of a crisis, and I think it has helped me in reducing them. I wish this was all the therapy I needed, but until that’s the case (I do hope that’ll be the case someday), here’s a cat.
If you read the title of this post and expect to find an answer for the question I presented, I’m sorry because I will disappoint you, I’m getting good at disappointing people. I haven’t excelled in writing my thesis, no matter what the high expectations everybody had on me, but once my dissertation was in the mix together with severe depression, that’s when I really lost sight of how to do what needed to be done to get where I wanted to go. Some days I don’t even know why I keep trying. On the bright side, this is not happening every freaking day like it used to, now the really gloomy days appear to come less often than the grey ones. The bright, happy ones are still a gift I’ve yet to receive.
It’s funny I should be thinking of this issue today, writing about it, when I actually managed to get a lot of work done. Well, a lot compared to my other days, because it was nothing compared to what I used to produce when I was more functional. Maybe that’s just the point, I feel intellectually tired and ready to pop a movie and just relax, like I had an incredible amount of work finished, but the fact is when I looked at what I did, I felt completely miserable because of how little it seems, and it’s not difficult to go from there to self harm for me.
Today I had pretty strong thoughts of doing exactly that instead of going to therapy, fortunately it wasn’t like other occasions when I can’t think of anything else and I end up falling for what in that moment seems like the easy way out… in the end I dragged my ass to shrinky’s office. Maybe I’m not being completely straightforward, I was feeling miserable in the first place because I didn’t go to work. I have a deadline due on Friday and I knew there was no possible way to get my chapter finished and my pending stuff from work if I didn’t force my schedule a little bit (working as a teacher means you’ll always take a lot of work home). This makes me feel like a complete failure, like I’m failing all around my responsibilities, and well, that’s sort of the train of thoughts I was riding when I wanted to cut myself.
Shrinky told me some stuff that I didn’t want to hear and didn’t help much at that time, but now is making me feel a little better. He said I’m too hard on myself, verging on cruel, and that for me it’s always about being the best or being nothing at all. There’s no in-betweens, and when I dare to not be the best, my self-hatred is so strong that all I can think about is hurting me. He reminded me of everything I’ve dealt with in this past month and how it’s perfectly natural if I can’t meet my deadline…still feels like I’m an utter failure, but it’s helping me get a hold of myself.
Back to what I was talking about before I started rambling, I guess I’m just wondering out loud how I can deal with these two things that are eating me up. One is my Frankenthesis (a term coined during T, because my own creation is turning against me), and the other is my depression. Somehow, they’ve become bff’s, allies in putting me down and keeping me from moving on. And don’t get me wrong, I know I am doing just that, except that it’s not at the pace I’d like to, not at the pace everyone expected from me. Generally speaking, I am better than I was months ago, it’s just I’d like to be free from these plummets and get on with my life!
So if you have any thoughts as to how I can deal with writing a thesis while being depressed, do let me know! Pretty please?
- How to finish your dissertation when you really hate that shit
- PGSD and other things they didn’t tell you
- Smile like you mean it
- The Frankenthisis strikes again
If you found this post by googling key words such as “dissertation depression” or “I am afraid of my dissertation”, these readings might help (thanks to @carmenmccain for bringing them to my attention):
The-thesis-that-must-not-be-named keeps haunting me like the worst kind of Halloween spook. I simply don’t know why I can’t get on with it, and what’s worse is that I’m actually starting to imagine a life without graduation…after all I already have a job I moderately enjoy and that keeps me from begging for money on the street. What I don’t think I could live with is
The past few months have been a rough ride, and if I were a little sympathetic with me I’d accept I’m still healing from the mayor crisis I went trough, the real problem here is that the rest of the world is not going to be as nice, and it’s more likely to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until I break or bend. I like to write, and tough I don’t have time to sit around doing nothing I could certainly manage an hour or two a day to work on my it, so why the hell I run away from it like it was the plague is beyond me. And it’s not even like I forget about it, because I get absolutely no moment of peace, my mind is never really free from it and I can never say, like I used to when I was in college, “well, I’ve worked x amount of time so I’m gonna relax for x amount of time”, come to think about it, I never truly relax because I have this huge weight on my back that I could but won’t lift from myself, it’s freaking masoquism!
On a totally related note, perhaps becuase of the cramps it’s causing me, here in Mexico we’re a month away from Enrique Peña Nieto’s ceremony to officially take office. I say officially, because the current president has basically stopped pretending to have any authority left. I remember six years ago I was hysterical because I had no doubt Calderón’s election was a fraud; this time around I’m quietly watching the political changes go by, not because I’m happy with them, but because I cannot honestly claim without the election was a fraud.
Peña Nieto’s party bought the election, that’s definetely truth, but is was the mexicans who decided to sell their votes for groceries, and since everybody knew beforehand that our electoral institutions are a sad joke, it’s no surprise there was no punishment for these actions.
On December 1st, when EPN becomes Mexico’s president, I will not be angry, I’m just gonna be terribly sad because my country got the president it deserves…
5 kitties just arrived! They couldn’t have come at a worst time, when my tutor is absolutely furious at me and I have a sh*tload of work to get done both on my thesis and at my job, but man are they beautiful!
I’ve raised quite some orphan litters, and now apparently my fame precedes me because from the last 5 or 6 litters, most of them have come from people who come and ask me to take them in…sometimes folks who don’t even make the title of acquaintances. And although I’m terribly busy and still somewhat depressed, I just don’t have it in me to say no to any kitty who needs love and nurturing, so I now have yet another thing to do.
Besides, I think taking care of them might end up being just what I need right now to get me out of my dark little self-absorption; truth is, raising kitties is one of the most rewarding things for me in the world, and it certainly is a small tragedy when I have to let them go, I don’t know how many more litters my heart can take…
I’ve managed to do it again. Self sabotage is apparently something I can never get enough of. I was supposed to meet my tutor today to show her my progress on the chapter I’m currently working in. The meeting was just an hour after I leave work so I had to run to get there…just to tell her I had left at home the above mentioned progress (not that it was anything to be proud of in the first place). At first I hoped it wouldn’t matter all that much since we had to get into the corrections I thought she was going to give me from the last chapter I handed in…but it turns out she’s only going to give me those after I hand everything in. So basically the meeting was pointless and I could see she was mad, and she had every reason to be so. Come to think about it, a lot of people have good reasons to be mad art me…including me.
I just don’t know what to do with myself… and all I feel like doing is listening to Manu Chao, maybe he can make things a little bit better tonight.
The lyrics on this song go more or less like this:
My life… little light with no candle
My blood from the wound
Don’t make me suffer anymore
My life…stray bullet
Through the highway
I don’t want you to go
I don’t want you to move away
Every day a little more
My life…little light with no candle
My life…dark water puddle
My last refuge
My last hope
I don’t want you to move further away each day
My life… little light with no candle
My blood from the wound
Don’t make me suffer no more
It was a Monday and for me as an elementary school teacher it was a day off thanks to Miguel Hidalgo and the Department of Education, but my time had run out. I had to deliver my fourth chapter, and it didn’t matter wether I was happy with it or not. I was already a week late and there was no possible way to get out of it with a plausible excuse. So I printed it and drove to UNAM’s Historical Research Institute, a.k.a. Mount Olympus, and handed it in. I wanted to see my tutor, but she wasn’t there, which in the end turned out to be not such a bad thing.
I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself. My chapter was probably sh*t, and to top it all off, my morning off turned out to be a bitter reminder of the days when I could do whatever I wanted and especially GO wherever I wanted. Compared to that, now I was basically a prisoner from the moment I woke up until 3:30 or 4 in the evening! And it’s not that I didn’t have responsibilities before, it’s just that I could choose when and how to address them.
To make it all a little bit worse, instead of getting the usual I-got-your-paper-now-let’s-meet e-mail from my tutor, I got an even shorter mail asking me to call her…and that’s when I flipped. Of course it had to be a different mail, given the less than awful text I had dared to hand in, she was probably pissed and disappointed, she might even tell me to find another tutor since I can show no sign of commitment to my own thesis. It was until Friday when I gathered the will to call. She was as nice as ever and just wanted to organize our schedules to be able to meet soon, and had probably asked me to call just to avoid all the coming and going of messages that usually takes for us to find a time to meet. I mentioned in the most normal voice I could find that I wasn’t happy at all with what I had sent and had expected her to feel more or less the same, and I got a silence that felt as: “What on earth are you talking about, crazy girl?”. She eventually said that it wasn’t the case, the progress could be seen, and we could work on the bumps I had encountered when we met. The call left me feeling as crazy as ever, but still definitely a little better than before.
Mondays are pretty sh*tty on their own without your crazyself pitching in, so I hope I can control her tomorrow. Let’s see.