Dissertation Wars: An Intermission

Oh my goodness--the introduction is up and running kids. It’s crazy! It’s neat! It’s everything your mother warned you about when she said don’t take candy from strangers!

I live in perpetual fear that it also marks my inability to graduate. NGES strikes again. (That’s Not Good Enough Syndrome for those of you who forgot.)

But! I’m smart enough. I’m clever enough. And gosh darn it people are scared of me. Wait…(I also may, or may not, be clinically insane.)

Serially--the thing is as a grad student, or anyone that reads a lot of hoity-toity books, you read a lot of people using big words, sounding important, and acting for all the world like they have done something brilliant. You accept it because, let’s be honest, they are a tenured professor and you…you’re a lone grad student hoping no one notices you’re a crazy anarchist feminist who (not so) secretly believes in superheroes.

Short digression: I honestly have grad school PTSD. I carry constant anxiety that my professors are going to drunkenly email me and accuse of my wasting their time, being egotistical, and otherwise blackening the space-time continuum around me. I wonder if this anxiety will ever go away or if I will respond to every email from a person in charge with a wince, an elevated heartbeat, and a tentative click of the mouse? I would say it’s my NGES, but my NGES is due, in part, to my PTSD.

At what point should someone seek professional help?

End digression.

The thing is I had a bit of a health scare and my future was in pretty serious question (believe me, I wish I were being hyperbolic). Suddenly I was all like, “Can I get this done? If everything goes south can I finish this thing before I run out of time?” Somewhere in my mind the impulse to get the thing written overwhelmed the fear that I would fail and I just knew I had to start writing immediately (again, I wish I were making this up).

I had a friggin’ existential out-of-body experience. Another sign professional help is in order?

I didn’t even know I could sit and pontificate for pages on end, but I wrote twenty pages (single spaced) without citing anybody in about ten hours. For you non-writers out there that is C.R.A.Z.Y. That’s like Batman smiling. It just doesn’t happen.

But the meth addict in my brain (metaphoric not literal) that kept whispering “you aren’t smart enough,” disappeared and, for better or worse (please don’t let it be worse) I managed to put what I was thinking into logical, coherent order. I really, really hope someone else hasn’t already done this and I just missed their book.

Right after I finished I immediately thought, I can’t believe you did that. You are sooooo not smart enough to act that confident. But I think I need to stop that behavior. I think at some point, if you are going to write a gosh darned dissertation, graduate with a PhD and make your brother refer to you as “Doctor” for the rest of your natural lives you have to believe--deep, deep down in the place where you think superpowers are real but don’t tell anybody--that you are smart enough and anyone that doesn’t agree with you just doesn’t get it.

I mean, what other option is there?

To do what we do (academics that is) you have to believe and have faith, despite all evidence to the contrary, that the dissertation you write will someday be a book. And that book, even if it only sells 100 copies, will change the world. I mean seriously. Because if you don’t believe that then all the heartburn, the headaches, the eye twitches (those are my favorite as they increase my attractiveness tenfold) and mental breakdowns are pointless.

I refuse to believe that the irreparable mental damage I have done to myself over the last five years has been pointless.

We’re talking M. Night Shyamalan--Lady in the Water quality arrogance. Or…self-confidence. I like self-confidence better. Sounds more positive.

So we’ve finally had our first “aha!” moment. I credit this silly blog and all you poor sods who get suckered into reading it. Afterall, I’ve been using the internet to pretend my thoughts are brilliant and worthwhile for years.