“Fear and work weren’t all bad, as companions went. They were both better than loneliness” – Naomi Novik in ‘Uprooted’

Things have progressed rapidly in the last few months. All of a sudden I am editing an actual manuscript of my doctoral thesis rather than just drafts of my individual chapters. But this advancement comes with a cost. The pressure is building up, and every deadline requires more work, more attention, and affords less time to breathe in between. After all, the end is in sight – not just because there is a manuscript, but because there is a finite lifespan on my contract at the university. So the clock is ticking, and though I have a clear idea about what needs to be done between now and the end of the year, I am not at all more confident or relaxed because of it.

Fear has been a constant lately. I am as afraid of finishing my thesis as I am of not finishing it. Because once it’s finished, then what? I’ve been contemplating this for months now and do not feel like I am any closer to an answer. What type of work would I want to do? What can I do? What are my options? I simply don’t know. And maybe I’m not supposed to know, but I do have a mortgage, a car, and two wonderful dogs that depend on me. Besides, I know myself well enough to know that I won’t handle unemployment well. Working has always been my one constant. No matter what mood I was in, there was always work, and to be sure there were moments that I couldn’t function properly, but I was at least always able to make up for it. I am on time with my thesis because I have prioritised work above almost everything else (certainly above myself) and it has been that option – to disregard myself in favour of work – which allowed me to maintain a certain constancy on a professional level. If that falls away, what purpose will I have? What constancy?

Though I cannot speak for others, I presume it is only a natural fear. We are all afraid of major life changes, and we should be. They are major life changes for a reason. Their value is enhanced in part because of the uncertainty and fear that comes with them. Our ability to transcend that fear, to deal with major changes despite it, gives us a sense of power and control. You might have been afraid to move to a new city, start a new job, move in with someone, or something along these lines, but in the end, such experiences have the tremendous potential to empower you as a person. I know that my current fear is primarily based on the fact that, even though I’m almost 29 years old, I’ve never functioned in the ‘real world’ before. I know academia, I know the university, and I know I don’t want to stay here because it doesn’t make me happy. I can see the world in which other people operate, a world which doesn’t require quite as much explanation as to what it is you actually do on a daily basis, but I have no idea how I go about introducing myself to it. And facing a whole world of options and people, opportunities and potential rejections, new directions and feeling lost because of them, is terrifying.

There are moments, of course, that I feel like everything will be okay. After all, when was the last time I was ever unemployed? Never. And when was the last time I worked more than one job at a time? This year. So, past data suggests that I will be okay in the future. It helps that I don’t mind what kind of work I do for as long as I pay the bills, but ‘any job’ is more of a last resort than what I have in mind for my future. It’s about time I start building up an actual career. I did not go through all this trouble, all this blood, sweat, and many, many, many  tears only to end up flipping burgers somewhere. I want more for myself. But when I ask myself the question ‘what do you want?’ the answer is invariably ‘I have no idea.’ And so time passes away, all whilst I work as diligently as possible on my thesis because heaven forbid it isn’t done on time.

Since this new deadline-to-deadline work thing has kicked in, I haven’t had much of a chance to rest and restore my energy reserves. Arguably, I haven’t had a chance to do so since I was twelve, but it has become worse recently. I’d been drowning and had barely broken the surface before I was being pulled under again. My mood responds accordingly. I have been more depressed than usual, and any passion I once felt for my work has evaporated. In fact, it is often the case that thinking about working on my thesis makes me break out into a cold sweat, has my hands and fingers tremble, and my mind run wild in a sudden panic. However, I am still blissfully denying a thesis-burnout. I can’t afford to have one right now. And so every day, I drag myself to my laptop, sit down, open whatever section I’m working on, and continue. Are there moments I burst into tears? Yes. Is there an edge of resentment when I look at all the feedback on my work even though I know I really appreciate it and that it is only intended to help me improve? Yes. I had hoped I could escape this part of the process – the whole ‘I hate it, make it go away’ part – but it seems like at least in this, I follow the PhD pattern. I’ve been told this is normal.
Normal does kind of suck.

To be honest, I’m not sure how everything will work out in the end. I am used to the presence of a steely resolve in me, the kind that makes me finish something on time simply because I said I would, but it has wholly deserted me now. There is still a dutifulness in me which keeps me going, a desire to have it finished and done with, but is that truly enough to keep me going as my sparse energy reserve is running out? I have come to depend on the strength that comes from passion, the power that comes from an obsessive need to do what I agreed to, and now I find myself with little of both. I am at that point where I just don’t care that much anymore. Lucky for me, my thesis is in its final stages. Now it just feels like either I will hold out long enough to finish it, or it will finish me.


Mheer, Limburg, The Netherlands.


“Ask nature: she will tell you that she made both day and night” – Seneca in ‘Letter III of Letters from a Stoic’

Alrighty then. It’s been a good long while since I wrote my last blog post – sorry about that. The last weeks have been challenging, both personally and professionally, and though I did think about writing, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. It’s difficult to write about something when you’re still in the middle of it, when it’s not yet clear where you’re heading or what to do about the ‘mess’ you feel overwhelmed by. And yes, it’s been a bit of a mess since my return from Washington D.C., but with time comes perspective and though I feel like I am as much of a mess as ever, there is more space to talk about it, more room to reflect.

The good news is that I have all my chapters for my dissertation, and two of them have already been reworked into second versions, so I’m well on my way to put together an actual manuscript. I like this part. Though sometimes I roll my eyes at things I wrote a couple of years ago, it is also kind of fun to see how far I’ve come. The difference between my ‘thinking’ 3 years ago and my thinking today is, eh, let’s say ‘noticeable.’ So even though I’ve consistently felt like I was just kind of plodding along but not really getting any better or getting anything done, evidently I picked some stuff up along the way. I have 7 months left to complete the whole thing and submit it, and the best part is I actually do have all of those 7 months: I have no more conferences, and only one peer-reviewed article to edit. So with the time I have left over I can either write more articles, or I can invest in future plans…

…because the future is becoming a bit more real, and a lot more scary. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do after my PhD. Fortunately, my university has offered career counselling so I have my first appointment next week to discuss what my options are. In the time I have left between now and the end of my contract I might still do some additional training to ensure a smooth transition from one job into the next. But I don’t like this uncertainty even though it’s still months away. What I especially don’t like is the fact that, in truth, I don’t even really know what I can do with a doctorate in Humanities. Sure, my resume includes a long list of other things as well (benefits of taking the non-traditional vocational education route to university) but those are not things I want to do (like retail, animal care, or teaching at secondary school level). So if anyone has any tips as for what may be a good option for me: I am all ears. I have time to get the appropriate training and I’ve been known to work hard and be quite intelligent… just saying…

And then there’s the personal stuff which is the main reason for my reluctance to write. My anxieties have been overly present and somewhat difficult to manage for me. Overall I am okay, at least, I’ve felt much much worse in the past and now more than ever I understand why I feel what I feel. Understanding why helps – it does – but it can also be frustrating. This knowledge doesn’t do anything, I still feel it, and actually, sometimes, understanding it only makes it worse. It can be depressing to know that the hurt you feel has been systematically caused by significant people throughout your life to such a degree that it affects your daily life in the present. It can be frustrating to know that the justified anger you feel because of things people have done to you is just there and that the people responsible are not bothered by it. It can be confusing to know that the sadness you feel has a right to be there, that it is normal to feel sad about everything that’s happened, but at the same time to want to be above that, to want to eradicate it because feeling that sadness feels like the person who caused it won. It’s irrational – you are not less strong for being affected by someone that you cared about deeply. If anything, it shows the strength of your character because you dared to care and you dared to open yourself up to someone else.
And yes, it is unfair and unjust and just bloody cruel for someone to take that care and vulnerability and crush it. It is deeply hurtful and angering that you have to endure that, that the words spoken by someone else carry that much power because those were all the words you feared most to hear – and that person knew it. That person knew because you were open and showed a side of yourself you hardly ever show anyone. Your trust and faith in them is why it cuts so deeply and it’s probably why you may even feel angry with yourself. After all, you put your trust and faith in them, and if only you hadn’t done that… nothing bad would’ve happened, right?

Now, I’m not one to preach the everlasting optimism that I admire in other people. My glass is inherently half-empty, and my natural inclination is to argue that it’s more likely to stay that way than it is to become full again. But even I know this: understanding why you feel what you feel is a good thing, not because of the potentially depressing, frustrating, or confusing side-effects, but because by understanding why you feel hurt, or angry, or sad, you learn so much more about yourself and what matters to you as a person. You wouldn’t be angry at someone betraying your trust if you gave it out easily and with little meaning behind it. You wouldn’t feel hurt by someone unless you were brave enough to show vulnerability which is in itself incredibly powerful – even when it doesn’t feel like it. And you wouldn’t be sad if you hadn’t genuinely cared. Of course I rather not be affected by something bad someone else did to me, and I am well aware that it will take a good long time before I can trust and care again. But that is kind of the point: the aim is to genuinely trust and genuinely care again, despite the risks and despite the bad experiences. Maybe not everyone deserves to be trusted and cared about, but can you really be yourself if you didn’t give them the best of you? They may not have valued it, and the pain it has caused sucks, but that doesn’t mean that there are no people who do value it, and who not only value it but find it important to offer you the same.

So, understanding isn’t great. It doesn’t make the feelings go away, it even makes them more tangible, more raw, and almost impossible to ignore. But it’s a great tool to get to know yourself. And this is why I didn’t write for a while. I was too caught up in the process, I couldn’t step back and understand. I’m not good at it all the time, but today the picture seems a little clearer. It’s like writing my PhD – now I can look back to the beginning and note the monumental changes I’ve made in my ability to think, analyse, structure, etc. But all throughout these past 3 1/2 years, I felt like I wasn’t going anywhere at all. Except that I did.


Great Smoky Mountains (April 2019)

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” – William Shakespeare in ‘As you like it’

Today’s blog is a little bit special as I am writing it in the Folger Shakespeare Library’s Reading Room. And then you might ask ‘But aren’t you supposed to be working?’ and I would answer, well, yes. But an essential part of work is taking a break and so this is mine: a moment away from the (already) endless card catalogs. I love working in places like these, the only downside being that it’s always cold – at least to me. I know a steady temperature is necessary, but does the steady temperature have to be freezing?

All last week I was on a road trip through rural Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina. I saw a great many forests, state parks and mountains, and now that I am in Washington DC, it takes some getting used to the city again. I liked the quiet. I liked the endless nature, the hiking, the long, long roads, and even the fact that it’s bear season and that the only radio stations readily available were Country music or Jesus preachers channels could not spoil the fun. Though proper vegetables are hard to come by and sugar is added to everything – even stevia is added to bread – I have a weakness for American pancakes and bacon and those are available in spades.

We covered 1957 kilometers, and in the time it took to do so, I had a lot of time to think. It was high time I got some things into perspective for myself anyway, and now I seemed to finally have the time and space to do so. Recent experiences taught me that even though giving everything in terms of love, care, and understanding, it doesn’t mean that it will be answered in kind, that it may actually be disregarded quite callously, and that I could’ve been spared a lot of pain if the other had taken one hard look in the mirror. For months, I was in the same situation, a repetitive and painful cycle, and despite seeing the hurt that was inflicted by him, it took a long, long time to finally do some soul-searching. When he did, though, it took him all but two days. My first response was to blame myself, of course, when it was finally decided that this wasn’t going to work out, but to be fair, I am not having such a tough time rightfully placing the responsibility of this particular part outside of myself. I am okay with how things are, actually quite happy with it. I wasn’t being appreciated and it made me insecure. I didn’t feel seen, heard, cared for, or like I mattered, and now I do. For too long I gave too much and it feels like a burden has been lifted. There is power in anger, and I am harnessing it. Like I said, perspective. I am better off now, and I can say this with true conviction. I can be happier now, because I am free to push myself to be my best self rather than dividing that energy between myself and someone who took it for granted. It was a learning curve – a steep one – but it will prove invaluable for the future.

In terms of work, perspective matters too. I finished editing one chapter for the dissertation, only three more to go, and then to the introduction and conclusion. I still have enough time, and I have long since decided that I don’t need it to be excellent – I just need it to be done. I will do what I can to make it good, but as long as it’ll stand before a committee, it’ll do. I am no longer panicking, and slooowly I am moving away from the idea that I am simply not ‘good enough’ to finish this thing. The fear that my contract will run out before it’s done is still there, but the impact becomes less and less. Perspective changes perception. For example, this grand old library I’m currently working in, decorated with all its fine art, stained windows, high arches, and old, dark wood, offers wisdom and inspiration. But at the end of the day, it’s just a building with books, tables that are slightly too high for me, and chairs that for all their decadence are not very comfortable. Besides, there’s the never-ending cold. I will enjoy my time here, partly because during my breaks I will roam the halls of the outwardly-unassuming building, and partly because there’s material here that’s one of a kind. And above all, I will keep working on that perspective, not because it’s always fun, but it’ll be the most productive thing for any future course.


Douthat State Park, 6 April 2019


“I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else I knew as well” – Henry David Thoreau in ‘Walden’

I often have to remind myself that the changes I make in my life are about me. They’re about me as a person, about me as a friend, me as a lover, and me as part of something bigger – be it a work or family structure. Even more often I have to remind myself that it is okay. I am allowed to make changes to become a healthier and happier person. I have to learn to accept changes I had no control over, too, and accept that those people likely made the choices they made for the same reason. I need to accept that, despite my best effort to be part of the solution, to them I might have been part of what obstructed their path to happiness. Naturally, the thought that I might have taken that role in the life of someone I care about hurts. But, if there’s no other way to help them achieve a better, more balanced life than by my disappearing from it altogether, that’s acceptable to me. My main focus has been acceptance. Acceptance of who I am and especially of the factors that contributed to making me this way. Acceptance of the good in me because it deserves to be there too. Acceptance of my challenges, shortcomings, weaknesses, flaws, and failures. I struggle to accept that people who love me will sometimes deny giving me a place in their lives, no matter the consequences for me or them. Overall, I am not a fan of Life.
That, too, is okay.
I have had some misfortune and bad luck that shaped my extremely subjective opinion on it. I fell in love with someone who (eventually) confirmed all the worst I believed about myself. I love him still, and miss him, too. He taught me a lot. For all the bad stuff that’s happened, I’d like to remember the good as I hope to find it again in the future. I remember the first moment we saw each other and how instantaneous our chemistry was. How there was a blissful time of few complications, of simple affection and togetherness. How he made me laugh, how when I was with him my busy and loud mind would just stop and be quiet. I loved his kindness, generosity, effort, care, warmth, affection, and his teasing and playfulness. I loved how he made me take myself less seriously and how he accepted everything about me, would touch my scars, telling me not to hide them because they showed my strength, not my weakness. Though in the end, I had to protect myself, had to accept my own value, these are the things I do not want to forget. Creating space is not about eradicating memories, and it’s not about ignoring the bad or the good. But the bad always seems more predominant, more important. Creating space is so much easier when you feed only off of that negativity. Yet, there is power in remembering the good, in giving those memories the space they deserve, too. They will serve as a reminder of why you invested so much, and they will also remind you to invest once again when the opportunity presents itself.  The changes I made are about me. They removed me from a toxic environment. But I will remember the good because those are the things I want for myself in the future.
I do not regret that.
And that, too, is okay.


Hiking in the Ardennes, 2018.


“Though my preferred ways are not happening, I won’t underestimate who I am capable of becoming” – Benjamin Clementine ‘London’

The difficulty of creating space cannot be overrated, as I am sure you have experienced at some point. Creating space in your own life is tough enough – space for things that are important to you, space for people that matter, space for yourself and your needs – and when it comes to being given space in other people’s lives, you’re powerless altogether. And yet, space is fundamental. Like all things in life that matter, it isn’t easy, there are consequences to claiming space and at first it’s mostly trusting that it’ll work out in the end.
It’s that time of ‘trusting’ that is the most challenging part: it’s when you have realised that space is missing in your life perhaps because it is taken up by someone, maybe because it is taken up by other activities, and so the next step is to create that space by either diminishing or completely removing that person or activity.

That might sound a little harsh. ‘Removing’ a person from your life, isn’t that selfish? Cruel? Unfair? This is what makes it difficult because intuition will likely answer ‘yes,’ ‘maybe,’ and ‘yes,’ but if you need that space to become happy, or to have room for other people who are making you happier, then the answers are ‘no,’ ‘no,’ and ‘no.’ You have every right to want to be happy, to be happy, and even if you want to be happy with someone and recognise the potential of becoming happy with him/her, if it turns out you’re not… then something has to change. And as noted before: you have no control over someone else’s decisions, nor over the space you are given in their lives. So if you aren’t given the space you need in their life, but they take up a chunk of space in yours… it’s probably best to re-evaluate.

By now it’s kind of obvious what I’ve been doing this past week. I created space in my life because I wasn’t being given space in theirs. It was scary and tough, sad and infuriating, and definitely not something I want to do often… but it’s also such a relief. It’s freedom. I do feel like I have options now, like my energy, love, care, and compassion isn’t being thrown into an endless well without any of it returning to me at some point and in some way. It is lonesome – there is an emptiness now as well – but I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like this for myself. I don’t think I have ever valued myself enough to claim my space – to no longer accept invisibility. I never would’ve believed there was going to be a day when I decided that I matter as much as I think other people do, nor did I believe I had any right to think it is not okay to be treated like I don’t deserve space, emotionally or physically, in the life of someone who claims to care about me. I learned that it isn’t acceptable for someone to inspire hope but ultimately provide disappointment on a regular basis. It’s crushing and disheartening, and I don’t need others to crush and dishearten me, if it must be done, I can do it perfectly well on my own.

All I can say now is that if you’re doubting whether or not to (re)claim space in your life: you probably should. It will free you up for new adventures. Though I must also say, and I speak from experience, that it is a delicate subject. The easiest way to do it is by cutting someone from your life immediately, no contact, no explanations, just essentially ghost that person. But I find that hurtful, harmful, and extremely disrespectful to the other person. Besides, it says something about yourself that is none too flattering because avoiding the confrontation purely for your own ease comes awfully close to cowardice. No one says claiming your space is easy, nor does it have to be rigorously implemented in such a way that you crush the other completely. It’s shitty either way, but I would recommend doing what needs to be done in as respectful and clear a manner as possible and only turn to extremer measures if there’s no other option. And if you want to create space for someone in your life but something is holding you back… well it’s usually related to fear, the fear of rejection, or the fear of what other people in your life might think about who you want to give space to. The same concept holds true though: would this person add to my happiness? And if so, does anyone have the right to deny you offering space to that person? Because if that’s what’s happening, you are not in control of your life – they are.
But for real though: do what needs to be done to gain control in your life, to allocate your space to those who treat you well and who add to your happiness. Everyone deserves that, even the people who cause you pain. They just don’t get to use you for their benefit whilst you are left drained, isolated, and invisible on the sidelines, hoping someday they might indeed make you happier because you know that potential is there.


Scotland 2017.


“I am not afraid of the world, for I can say that my conscience is clear, and I have nothing to be ashamed of” – Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky in ‘Letters August 13th, 1880’

With my final chapter handed in to my supervisor and the rewriting of ‘Chapter 1’ (i.e. not the first I wrote but the first in the manuscript) well on its way, I am starting to see the finish line of my PhD. This is absolutely terrifying.
Though I still have time (10 1/2 months to be exact), I find myself thinking more often about what will happen next. Even without a contract, the mortgage needs to be paid and both the dogs and myself need to eat. And of course, there’s the ever-knawing fear that I will still not be able to finish on time. I guess this last fear is the one that makes both the least and the most sense: on the one hand, I have a ridiculous amount of time to rewrite and edit in comparison to most PhDs. On the other hand, whether or not I ‘finish’ is not entirely up to me. I could be done in June, but if my supervisor and promotor aren’t on board, I cannot submit the thesis anyway. I have no reason to believe they won’t work with me, after all it’s in everyone’s interest that I get this thing done and out the door, and yet… not having such a big part of this process completely outside of my control is challenging.

Now, considering how well my work is progressing, it’s easy to assume I am progressing just as smoothly and speedily in everyday life. I’m not. Or, at least, I don’t see it that way. About a month ago I began adhering to an actual schedule, with, like, proper blocks set up for sleeping, working, eating, and sports. It’s still weird to me and I cannot wholeheartedly appreciate the 6 a.m. daily alarm. Limiting my working hours has also proven to be quite difficult though evidently the restrictions are paying off as I am now able to work productively for more hours a week than I did before (and by productively I do mean the ‘academic’ productively, i.e. writing/editing, because that’s all the production that counts, right?) Even more challenging is allowing extinuating circumstances. For example, I am ill. It happens, but it also means I can’t follow my schedule since that includes running or horseback riding, and I can barely walk the stairs before my lungs are exploding (#pneumonia). I even took time off work – I let my supervisor know I’m ill and everything. Very not-me, but apparently the mature, wise, and right thing to do. Still makes me feel like I am wasting time though. I still feel the guilt for ‘forsaking’ the schedule, for not pulling my weight, for cancelling on planned activities. So this schedule is good for me in more ways than one: I also have to accept that I am human and sometimes humans get ill and sometimes that means a temporary suspension of the planned activites. This does not mean I’m failing, or that it’s all pointless, useless, hopeless, or whatever ‘-less’ you want to add. And as I write this down in such confident terms, do remember I am repeating this to myself over and over in the hopes it’ll sink in and I will believe it.

There’s still plenty of loneliness in my life. In a sense I’m finding peace with it, not because I am okay with the feeling, but because I am okay that the alternative would be betraying my own norms and values so as to keep certain people in my life. I have grown in knowing what I need, what I want, and why it’s okay to ask for it. I have accepted that despite having been taught from a young age that it’s not okay to ‘claim space’ in the world, it actually is okay to do exactly that – particularly when it comes down to people who claim to care about you. It should not be a struggle for someone to make room for me, in part because I know I give if not equal than more in return for it, and in part because I know I don’t ask for much. For too long I have accepted that my ‘requests’ for being seen, for being given someone’s precious time, for wanting to spend time with someone, are too much to ask. But as friends, isn’t the point kind of to make time for each other? Maybe not every day, or even every week, or month, but every once in a while shouldn’t be too difficult. I have friends I don’t speak to often, but then once we’re like “hey let’s meet up” we pick a date that works (be it tomorrow, or three months from now) and we block that date in our dayplanners and go do something fun because we both enjoy each other’s company despite our busy, chaotic lives. But when I ask for that – someting this simple, this normal in social contact – and it inevitably turns into my having to hope the other person has a scrap of time left over, or the first response indicates it’s too much of a hassle… then it’s not a good place for me to be in. Recently, I have been working hard to recognise toxic relationships, and I think the hard work is showing – though the results suck. It’s better, however, to be on my own, alone, and lonely but open, ready, and willing to engage in new, meaningful social contacts, than it is to give up everything I am and need for any type of relationship with people. What I want is quite simple: to be a good friend. What I need is for someone to invest (as close as possible to) equally in our friendship. Before, it was mostly me fulfilling the needs of others because, yes, that makes me happy – it’s what I consider being a good friend. So that part of me is not going to change. But my expectations for  what I might ask for or receive in return have changed. At the very least, I want someone who is able and willing to get out a dayplanner, pick a date, and go do something fun because we both enjoy it.

All in all, a lot of things are still in motion and most of them are good. Work = good. Personal life = not so much. And that’s exactly why progress can also kind of suck: I know I am doing the right thing. But rounding things up, closing things off, and moving on isn’t a fun thing to do – you remember all the investments already made, the potential now being wasted. Then again, I do think at some point, it will be worth it. Closing the door on the pain is step one, and undoubtedly it will sometimes be opened up again, but without this step, there’s no hope for new beginnings. And to be completely honest – though I feel like a total failure for the current state of my ‘close-friends-circle,’ I am excited for the future, curious to see which people will cross my path, and to give those people the best I can give of myself.



“I got the same old shoes with a new attitude. Why would I sing the blues, for you?” – X Ambassadors in ‘BOOM’

I didn’t feel like writing in the last few weeks. My creative energy has been a little low and the little I did have I poured into the last chapter of my dissertation. Besides, where even to start? Because to be honest, it’s one of those periods where everything seems to be shifting all over the place and the only thing I know for sure is that I have no idea how everything’s going to turn out. I have been working hard, both professionally and personally, and despite some serious setbacks I do feel like I am still making headway. But, eh, balance? Harmony? Those are not in my near-future, at least, not that I can see.

In December two of my closest relations started to or actually did come to an end. I have found my peace with the one – have accepted that at least for now, this is the best thing for both of us – but the other has been rough. We’ve all heard of ‘ghosting’ before, and maybe we’ve even done it to someone. But when we talk about ‘ghosting’, we generally think about romantic relationships, especially the short-lived ones, with people we rather not waste our energy on having to explain why it just won’t work out. We generally don’t associate the practice with friendships of several years, people with whom you’ve shared the highest highs and the lowest lows, who were as close as family to you. And yet, that’s exactly what happened to me with one of my best friends. Naturally, I racked my brain trying to pinpoint what happened there, but nothing did. We communicated like always – and then one day there was no response. When that lasted a long while, I let it know that it was okay if some space was needed, but that I would need to know so I could give it. Still nothing. So this week, as I am adopting a lifestyle change anyway, I decided I’d had my fill, called the parents to ask if they could relay a message that I wanted my stuff back (like a spare set of my house keys), and that I’d be in touch with them about picking them up. That did get a response. Two lines to say my stuff’d be sent by registered mail. And that was it.

Needless to say that that hurts. I am a loyal friend and would probably give anything for you when I care about you. But as this happened, I couldn’t get my mind out of the thought spiral that said “What did you do?” even though that’s kind of the point: I didn’t do this, my friend did, to me. That’s easy to say, easy to understand, but not exactly easy to feel. So I am trying to think of it this way: I am changing my life and so the people I share it with will change too.
Sounds awfully mature doesn’t it?
I am not angry – perhaps I should be – I am sad and hurt, but being angry on my own behalf apparently only happens under different circumstances, noteably when I am certain that the foundation of love and care is strong. Anger subsides, love does not. But with my friend, there’s no foundation to speak of – whatever there was has now been destroyed – and it probably doesn’t help that deep down, I cannot shake the belief that all my friends will leave me in the end. I know, little melodramatic eh? But it’s what I’ve been conditioned to believe, what my experience has continously taught me, what has been affirmed and reaffirmed dozens of times. I will always give every friendship my all and be the best friend I can be, but when inevitably they leave for whichever reason, I am not angry because it’s just how things are.
I am working on changing that particular pattern though.

On to less gloomy things then. Work is going reasonably well, always too slow, there’s always more to do. But schedules are being adhered to, and my supervisor excitedly gave me useful feedback ending on the note “It’s really starting to look like a book, isn’t it?”
I share her enthusiasm for that part – it is looking like a proper book in the making. I am anxious about this being my last year. Heaven forbid I shouldn’t be done on time. I don’t think my psyche would survive missing a deadline, especially not one of this import. But the 31st of December is still far off and I have time. It is kind of funny that now, finally, I feel like I understand what I am supposed to be doing. Now, in my fourth year as PhD researcher, I think I have a clear image of what I need to do and how things need to turn out. Hopefully this insight will actually help me as at the moment all it does is freak me out that everything I’ve done before is not like that image at all (well, duh). I am looking forward to April. I will have the chance to do research for a couple of weeks in Washington D.C., all because I’ve been invited to a conference there. Things aren’t looking too bad then, it’s just the anxiety from other parts of life will always find its way into my working life, which – I’ve been told – is normal. Until so far, though, I have been keeping a semblance of balance pretty well. It’s a precarious thing and I am always worried I’ll slip, or that something else is added to my already overwhelmed mind and I will lose control again, but every day I manage to keep the balancing act together is a small victory.