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Altoids Addict (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} altoidsaddict) wrote,@ 2008-03-28 23:54:00 |
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This sounds more stressed than it really is.
(When reading the following, keep in mind that a) it's just how I see it and may be wildly incorrect; and b) I am high right now.)
Grad school is eating my brain, my time, and my social life all at once. I had a long talk with another student who is having the same problem, but he feels even more isolated and disconnected because he's new to the state. I've at least had several years on this campus and know the state like the back of my hand. And the kicker? His wife's from here, so it's not even something he can reasonably expect to share in his marriage. I feel for the guy, not in the least because to some extent I'm in the same boat.
When the husband went to medical school, it was understood that graduate studies of any stripe tend to make the support system into a one-way street most of the time. Things calm down for the PhD (hopefully) because by then you've learned where you can cut corners. You're not scrambling as much to put your foot in the door, because this is the terminal degree. I have no basis to say that the doctorate is easier than the master's, because I'm sure that's not true; but going from undergraduate to graduate studies is a much bigger adjustment. Paradoxically, while the students who are connected and involved in extracurriculars as undergrads are the most highly-sought after by graduate programs, they also have the hardest time adjusting emotionally because they learn to seek their stimulation and interest outside the classroom as much as within it. And once they enter graduate school, they're expected (for good reason) to cut out their connections.
True, most of my friends made it easy by dumping me first. My social circle is wee beyond that because I just don't have the time or energy to even think about most social activities. In my down time I... well, for Spring Break I worked on grad school stuff. I played WoW for a couple of days, but otherwise I can likely count the number of times I've logged on this semester on one hand. My guilds wonder where I am. I never go to session any more, I haven't been to pipe band practice since August and I miss them so much... but on our practice nights, I'm checking last-minute stuff for classes during the rest of the week, finishing grading, outlining the research I'll need for my thesis, and trying to relax so I don't tailspin into horrible depression and stress like last semester. Unbelievably, there are more expectations and work on me this semester than last, but aside from my circulation tanking on a nightly basis I haven't had too terrible a time of it. It never decreases, it just gets easier to bear.
I don't blame people for ditching me during grad school, frankly. How could I expect otherwise, being so disconnected? It's neither here nor there, just a common observation that it's what people do when any relationship becomes a one-way street and neither party has the ability to continue it at that time. Grad students fear being dumped by their non-program friends because it's a damn reasonable response. The program doesn't do much to encourage us to cultivate friendships within our department. Why, when in two years max we're all going our separate ways? So for even people who do get along well in class, it seems weird to make plans outside of a work context. This in turn leads to a borderline-unhealthy situation where we all cannot fathom a social outing unless there's work involved, some enriching academic pretense. We'll all go on field trips and backstage tours and have a blast behaving like kids, but never forget that we're there to learn something very specialized and difficult.
I remarked to R. that I can barely think of a goddamn thing these days without thinking about what it signifies, what its place in history might be, and how it came to be. For example, when I drive on a road I think about the numbering/naming system, evolution of routes relative to geographic features, road characteristics anomalous to the Jeffersonian system of land platting, and anything specific to the road itself that I might also know. I can't turn it off. It's exhausting to live like that. The whole thing was by way of explanation as to why I don't see good movies in the theaters - B-movies are about the only place I can turn it off, because with a few exceptions B-movies are fun to think about and undemanding as a genre. But that's a tangent. I wonder, if I could stop thinking about stuff, could I start again? What would the price be if I were to stop thinking so hard?
It's comforting to know that every other student in my department has the same concerns and anxieties. It's part of grad school. The chatter before and after classes and at academic conferences is what passes for a social life these days, and we invest in these short snippets of time because we all have roughly the same expectations about where it leads and what it means - which is damn little, but unless you're a big ass it's enough. More than anything I pity the few students here who have alienated the rest of us through their superiority complexes, raging sexism, or bullying manners. Depression and withdrawal is okay, because we've all been there and recognize ourselves. When I had to excuse myself from class repeatedly last semester to sob uncontrollably in the bathroom, a couple of students I knew pretty well asked me about it, accepted my answer that it was as much physical and involuntary as a legitimate thing, and just folded it into a hope that like the rest of them my depression would pass. And if not, I'd have asked for help anyway. The big thing was, all of us were equally convinced we were incompetent idiots. As overachievers, suddenly there was a huge gap between what we knew and what we would have to know by the end of class. With the exceptions of the bullies, sexists, and superior pricks, admitting vulnerability was quite clearly accepted and encouraged because not everybody could know everything, and that's why we're in the fucking class to begin with. The first, often rough semester is in coming to terms with our inferiorities and insecurities. The rest of the time, the insecurity we feel is implicit and shared; so we can relax and channel that energy and anxiety into once again overachieving. Unfortunately it becomes cyclical. The more insecurity you have, the more energy you spend trying to eradicate it, which leads to increased responsibilities, which leads to more insecurity and so on. At DU I didn't quite understand this because I wasn't ready. Now I do, I get how this all works and why graduate work requires distance while it sucks support from everyone else like a parasite. I don't know if I can fix the isolation everyone feels, or even if it's worth the effort. Because we barely have enough energy for ourselves.
(When reading the following, keep in mind that a) it's just how I see it and may be wildly incorrect; and b) I am high right now.)
Grad school is eating my brain, my time, and my social life all at once. I had a long talk with another student who is having the same problem, but he feels even more isolated and disconnected because he's new to the state. I've at least had several years on this campus and know the state like the back of my hand. And the kicker? His wife's from here, so it's not even something he can reasonably expect to share in his marriage. I feel for the guy, not in the least because to some extent I'm in the same boat.
When the husband went to medical school, it was understood that graduate studies of any stripe tend to make the support system into a one-way street most of the time. Things calm down for the PhD (hopefully) because by then you've learned where you can cut corners. You're not scrambling as much to put your foot in the door, because this is the terminal degree. I have no basis to say that the doctorate is easier than the master's, because I'm sure that's not true; but going from undergraduate to graduate studies is a much bigger adjustment. Paradoxically, while the students who are connected and involved in extracurriculars as undergrads are the most highly-sought after by graduate programs, they also have the hardest time adjusting emotionally because they learn to seek their stimulation and interest outside the classroom as much as within it. And once they enter graduate school, they're expected (for good reason) to cut out their connections.
True, most of my friends made it easy by dumping me first. My social circle is wee beyond that because I just don't have the time or energy to even think about most social activities. In my down time I... well, for Spring Break I worked on grad school stuff. I played WoW for a couple of days, but otherwise I can likely count the number of times I've logged on this semester on one hand. My guilds wonder where I am. I never go to session any more, I haven't been to pipe band practice since August and I miss them so much... but on our practice nights, I'm checking last-minute stuff for classes during the rest of the week, finishing grading, outlining the research I'll need for my thesis, and trying to relax so I don't tailspin into horrible depression and stress like last semester. Unbelievably, there are more expectations and work on me this semester than last, but aside from my circulation tanking on a nightly basis I haven't had too terrible a time of it. It never decreases, it just gets easier to bear.
I don't blame people for ditching me during grad school, frankly. How could I expect otherwise, being so disconnected? It's neither here nor there, just a common observation that it's what people do when any relationship becomes a one-way street and neither party has the ability to continue it at that time. Grad students fear being dumped by their non-program friends because it's a damn reasonable response. The program doesn't do much to encourage us to cultivate friendships within our department. Why, when in two years max we're all going our separate ways? So for even people who do get along well in class, it seems weird to make plans outside of a work context. This in turn leads to a borderline-unhealthy situation where we all cannot fathom a social outing unless there's work involved, some enriching academic pretense. We'll all go on field trips and backstage tours and have a blast behaving like kids, but never forget that we're there to learn something very specialized and difficult.
I remarked to R. that I can barely think of a goddamn thing these days without thinking about what it signifies, what its place in history might be, and how it came to be. For example, when I drive on a road I think about the numbering/naming system, evolution of routes relative to geographic features, road characteristics anomalous to the Jeffersonian system of land platting, and anything specific to the road itself that I might also know. I can't turn it off. It's exhausting to live like that. The whole thing was by way of explanation as to why I don't see good movies in the theaters - B-movies are about the only place I can turn it off, because with a few exceptions B-movies are fun to think about and undemanding as a genre. But that's a tangent. I wonder, if I could stop thinking about stuff, could I start again? What would the price be if I were to stop thinking so hard?
It's comforting to know that every other student in my department has the same concerns and anxieties. It's part of grad school. The chatter before and after classes and at academic conferences is what passes for a social life these days, and we invest in these short snippets of time because we all have roughly the same expectations about where it leads and what it means - which is damn little, but unless you're a big ass it's enough. More than anything I pity the few students here who have alienated the rest of us through their superiority complexes, raging sexism, or bullying manners. Depression and withdrawal is okay, because we've all been there and recognize ourselves. When I had to excuse myself from class repeatedly last semester to sob uncontrollably in the bathroom, a couple of students I knew pretty well asked me about it, accepted my answer that it was as much physical and involuntary as a legitimate thing, and just folded it into a hope that like the rest of them my depression would pass. And if not, I'd have asked for help anyway. The big thing was, all of us were equally convinced we were incompetent idiots. As overachievers, suddenly there was a huge gap between what we knew and what we would have to know by the end of class. With the exceptions of the bullies, sexists, and superior pricks, admitting vulnerability was quite clearly accepted and encouraged because not everybody could know everything, and that's why we're in the fucking class to begin with. The first, often rough semester is in coming to terms with our inferiorities and insecurities. The rest of the time, the insecurity we feel is implicit and shared; so we can relax and channel that energy and anxiety into once again overachieving. Unfortunately it becomes cyclical. The more insecurity you have, the more energy you spend trying to eradicate it, which leads to increased responsibilities, which leads to more insecurity and so on. At DU I didn't quite understand this because I wasn't ready. Now I do, I get how this all works and why graduate work requires distance while it sucks support from everyone else like a parasite. I don't know if I can fix the isolation everyone feels, or even if it's worth the effort. Because we barely have enough energy for ourselves.
