Day 95

Perhaps I shouldn't publish it for the whole world to see, but my kryptonite is indifference. Ignore me and I am transformed into the Incredible Hulk (wow, two comic book references in as many sentences). I suppose this weakness was inherited from my father. He was an alcoholic and, therefore, unavailable to me in almost every way. His apparent indifference toward me was infuriating. Every so often, that rage is reignited by some new set of circumstances.

I spent much of the last two days camped outside the door of one of my professors after he sent me a critical email. I wanted to discuss his criticism. He seemingly ignored my phone messages and email so I thought that I would ambush him in the hallway. He never arrived. It appears that I will not be granted an audience with him before my "Defense" which is scheduled for tomorrow.

Oh goodie, another opportunity to deal with my unresolved childhood issues, what some people refer to as an AFGO (another fucking growth opportunity). There are several lessons I have learned over the years that I hope to apply here.

1. I must continually remind myself that my professor is not my father. His motives are a mystery to me. It is pointless to assign motives to him and act in accordance with them.

2. More important than being heard and being right is maintaining my peace of mind and my integrity. I need to continually ask myself what I need to do to live consistent with my highest self.

3. It may appear as though this person has power over me. However, his power is limited. He cannot take from me what is most precious to me.

I can choose how to respond to this situation. The role I choose to play is not limited to doormat or raving lunatic (my preferred role in the past). I face my committee in 24 hours. I am going to try to show up as a grown up. If I were a superhero my superpower would be compassion.

Day 94

I was in a group recently when the discussion turned to death (I know - I hang out in weird circles). Someone said they knew a guy who was diagnosed with a terminal illness. His response was, "Hmm, this should be interesting."

I am trying to cultivate the same kind of acceptance for the process that I am engaged in right now with my dissertation. I want to know, really know, that regardless of what happens I can maintain my peace of mind. I was feeling a little crazy yesterday (between crying jags I wanted to scream) and I remember thinking between sobs, "Is this really worth sacrificing my serenity?"

Is anything really worth sacrificing my serenity?

Day 93

Some days really suck!

Three days before my dissertation defense and I received a two and a half page (single spaced) critique from one of my committee members - just a few concerns that need to be addressed (yea right). What I really wanted was a gold star.

When I came back to school 5 years ago what I wanted was support and guidance and encouragement. I soon discovered that graduate school is not the place to get those things. I have worked on letting go of that expectation. But this morning when I opened that email, more than anything, I wanted to hear "good job." I wanted a pat on the back. I wanted resounding applause. Graduate school is firmly grounded in a process of critique - it is meant to shape us into scholars. Right now it just feels mean.

Graduate school does not promote good mental health - just ask Ted Kaczynski.

Day 92

My partner Bill is occasionally a little grumpy. I used to take this personally. If he was in a bad mood I was convinced that it must be my fault (the whole world revolves around me after all). I would sometimes respond by being extra nice, trying to make amends for whatever I had done to bring on his foul mood. Other times I would get defensive. How dare he be so grumpy with a wonderful partner like me? Either way, I was so involved with me that I couldn't be there for him.

Now when I observe signs of grumpiness I stop and remind myself that his mood is not about me. I detach which, ironically, allows me to be more compassionate. I ask how he is doing. I listen. I offer support. If he needs space I give him that.

I may even learn to enjoy his pain (and my own) by recognizing that it is an opportunity for genuine connection. For now, baby steps...

Day 91

Yesterday I was listening to a program on NPR about the Hadron Collider. I don't really know what the Hadron Collider is but I know that it is expected to teach us more about the universe we live in. The physicist being interviewed said that we can currently only identify about 1/6 of all the matter in the universe. What else is out there? He also said the we don't know what holds matter together. The very structure of our being is a mystery.

As I was listening I looked up to see huge snowflakes swirling and dancing outside my window. They fell on crocuses and tulips that bloomed early due to an unseasonably warm start of spring. Why does it snow in springtime? Where do the snowflakes, works of art in their own right, come from? Where do they go? It is all a mystery to me.

Our search for meaning and understanding is limitless. We build 14 billion dollar machines and ponder snowflakes. Why can't we embrace the mystery?

Day 90

I do not like clutter. I have heard it said that we sometimes have to clear out the old to make room for the new. I have no problem giving a sweater I never wear to the Goodwill. Getting rid of things I no longer need makes me feel lighter, less encumbered, more spacious.

People are a different story. I have sometimes found myself in relationships that I have outgrown. They no longer fit. I want to move on but don't know how. Sometimes I meet people and know that we have nothing in common. In my effort to be nice I linger too long. How do we remove ourselves from situations and relationships that have nothing to offer us?

I heard a story today about the Dalai Lama. It seems that when he meets someone he tries to ascertain their intentions. If he believes that they are not sincere in their intentions, he merely turns to them, presses his palms together at his chest, bows, and says, "Thank you very much." Then he leaves.

Day 89

A friend called me a few days ago. Her life is a sea of change. She talked about navigating the narrow canals of transition. I listened, confident that she would stay afloat and find her way. By contrast, yesterday my son shared with me some of his anxieties about his current circumstances. I was filled with fear. I know I reflected that back to him. I so want to give my son the same calm presence that I gave my friend. The problem is that sometimes I have trouble figuring out where he ends and I begin.

When I was in my 20s I read this book by Whitley Strieber about his alleged abduction by aliens. He talked about his fear of death and more specifically of leaving behind his wife and young son. He said that the aliens impregnated him with a radical idea that alleviated his fear. It was as if they planted this message in his brain: You are on a separate path from those you love. Your wife and your son each have their own paths. Your paths intersect, but they are not one and the same. I remember reading this and longing to be abducted.

Around the same time, when my son was about 7, I was consumed by anxiety over his potential death (he was perfectly healthy, I was not). I talked with a minister about my fears. She said: "You receive God's love through your son. Your son is the vessel, not the source. Even if you lost your son, God's love would still be there for you."

I have tried for years to integrate these two messages: one from the aliens, the other from a woman of God. This morning I turned on one of those morning shows. They had a segment on traveling solo. I'm trying to figure out how to do that. Paradoxically it may be the key to our connection.