The Strange Side Effects of Getting a PhD

The PhD experience has been, for me, basically a series of existential crises. The problem with getting a PhD in the humanities is that you go all in on a very insecure future. You leave your friends, your family, your beloved town in the mountains, and you arrive in a swampy new city, missing everything you left behind. Professors warned you that the job market was terrible, that the jobs themselves were scarce, and that, even if you got the job, the workload was intense and poorly compensated, but you were too used to being the exception, the exceptional one who got the awards, the scholarships, the teaching positions, the acceptances to PhD programs, so you block it out. But then, each month that you spend in this new swampy town that you just can't quite love or feel at home in, reality sets in just a little bit more. As you see classes of PhDs graduate and only one might get "the job," or you watch people walk away from the program entirely and you're just a little envious, or you notice that the people who are getting "the jobs" are going up on the job market for 3-5 years before they get a position, you start to question and doubt everything. I mean, you've put ALL of your eggs in this basket, and its a shoddy basket. Meanwhile, while your future looks bleaker and more insecure, you watch your friends buy houses, travel, start families, etc. and you are plagued by FOMO. Again, professors warned me of this, but I just wasn't mentally prepared for it. Few people know this, but when I passed my exams, I reacted by hysterical sobbing. It all seemed so meaningless. I put so much stress and work into getting to this moment and it seemed like such a waste of time. Needless to say, I was not in a good or healthy place then. I wasn't in a good or healthy place for much of the last few years.

I've spent a lot of time in my PhD program looking back over my shoulder, turning into a pillar of salt, as I berated myself: I should have gone to U of A, because then I would have been close to my family and friends while I had these existential crises. I should have gone to Illinois State, because their program prioritizes teaching more and I now know I prefer teaching to research. I should have never gotten the damn PhD. I should have looked for jobs after the masters. I should have become a high school teacher. I should have become a lawyer. You name a past decision I pondered, and I thought I should have done the other thing. The thing that did not put me where I am.

I thought about leaving, but my ego didn't want to have this move, all of these crises, be "for nothing." I needed the degree to justify all of those choices I now regretted. And so, I then responded by shutting down any of my hopes in this career plan. I am not going to apply for anything in academia, I said. I want job security! I want work/life balance! I'll become a librarian, a HS teacher, anything that will hire me. All of these things are true. I do value work/life balance. I do want job security, but it is not necessarily true that you can't have these things in any job in academia. I was being hyperbolic out of self-defense because I did not want to put myself up for something with such a high rate of rejection.

In the mean time, I responded to my constant crises with some soul-searching. In my first year here, I had a crisis of faith, and left the type of churches I grew up attending. Now, I am perfectly at peace in a new church home, one that is progressive, that welcomes doubts and intellectual challenges to dogmatic beliefs, and allows for mystery. I am now a person that does yoga almost daily and believes in the power of reciting mantras and setting positive affirmations. I meditate. In other words, it is well with my soul. I also started making an effort to stay in touch with those back home, sending notes and little cards, letting them know that I think of them often even though I am not with them often. And that helped. I adopted two more animals. I'm not saying that it was done for healthy reasons, but my pets also bring me a lot of joy. And I started to realize that all of these things matter to me much more than any career. Finally, finally, I was able to come to a healthier place of peace and self-forgiveness this past Spring semester. The constant meltdowns of being in a PhD program pushed me to do so much work on my self and find ways in which I am in control of my own happiness and not relying on outside markers of status and success that I was finally able to stop berating myself for pursuing the PhD in the first place.

Once I reached a better place, where I am at peace with my faith and spirituality, with my family and home life, with my dreams of the future, etc, my productivity returned. I'm back on a regular pace of writing. I presented at a conference. I'm back into the groove of things, and, with that, my ego returned. Last week after the conference, I got a follow-up email from a professor I've never met but have a lot of respect for about the research I presented. It was one of the moments when I think, okay, sometimes I am good at this academia thing. I love teaching, and I think I am good at it. I hate the constant rejection and revision of the research side, but sometimes, like when I submit a dissertation chapter that I feel pretty good about, and I've sent off the final proofs on a chapter in an edited collection, and I receive positive affirmation about a conference presentation, I think I can do this. So, of course, because I am me, this resurgence of my confidence caused me to panic. I had already decided tor reject this! I don't want to want this. I don't want the rejection of the academic job market. And so, I vision boarded, like the true introspective hippie I've become.

When I reflected on what components I need to be happy in the future, to be secure, the answers came easily. I need a steady spiritual practice and I want to grow in my convictions and right actions in that arena. I want to live in a landscape I love. I need to see the sky. I need elevation changes on the horizon. I need to see mountains, and I'd love to be in the mountains, because I want to spend more time outdoors, but I am a picky bitch about which outdoors landscapes I enjoy. I don't like flat land and I do not care about beaches. I want a home. A place that is our own, with a small yard for the dogs, and space to host visitors. And I need to be closer to my friends and family. Matt and I have set a goal of no more than 15 hours of driving time away from Gilbert, so that we can put all the animals in the car and get home in one day of driving. And as far as the job goes? I'd like to still teach or work directly with students. The only thing that I need out of a job is the feeling that I am impacting someone or something. That my skills are helping someone directly. That's why I like teaching. So, I'll apply for some college teaching jobs, some secondary teaching jobs, and some college advising positions, and I want to learn more about Children's Librarian programming positions. If I don't get the fanciest jobs, that is totally FINE because what I've realized is that what I do to pay the rent and get health insurance matters so little to me in the scope of things.

These are not things I knew or thought I needed when I chose to leave Arizona for a PhD program in Florida. I was going to be the career woman who didn't marry until my late 30s, if at all, who moved across the country in pursuit of ambitious career goals. Of course, Matt came along way too early for my plans, so I accepted that I would be a young married person, but I still thought career goals topped everything else for me. And now, thanks to four years of breakdowns, and yoga, and meditation, and general navel gazing, I know that what I need is to just live somewhere I love, somewhere I can go outside and enjoy nature, somewhere with good local food and closer to our friends and family. I am motivated to finish the degree, not for the career opportunities it will bring, but because it means we are free to move on and find the right place for us.

Being in a PhD program was so much harder and stranger than I ever could have imagined, but it turned out to be the perfect reason to sort out my priorities, and for that I am grateful.

Dear (Fellow) White People

The first time my Facebook posts started drawing rebuke from certain friends and family members was when I posted in defense of Black Lives Matter. One racist acquaintance took to commenting in ill-formed and misspelled sentences about how Black people were thugs, and when I deleted his comments, he took it as an invite to start private messaging me Infowars and Breitbart articles about how Black people are thugs, and didn't I know that BLM was a terrorist organization that wants all white people dead? They're not and they don't, and that person has since been deleted and blocked. I got into a political argument with a family member about the death of Freddie Gray. Can't they agree that, regardless of a person's race or even crimes committed, they don't deserve to have their spinal cord severed in the car ride to the police station? Before Trump's campaign, BLM was the topic that opened my eyes to the disconnect between my world view and the world views of people I know and love. But what is to be done about it? 

Sometimes, like when that person used to be married into your extended family and isn't any more and private messaging you offensive and violent garbage, they can be deleted. Sometimes, you love this person and have an otherwise close relationship with them so you drop it to save the relationship. But, you can't let it go permanently. I can't let it go because lives are on the line. 

Two years ago, 9 Black church members were studying their Bibles on a Wednesday night in their sanctuary, their safe place, and a white supremacist murdered them, a white supremacist radicalized by the same alt-right conspiracies and hate speech that have found an elevated platform under this administration. This white supremacist took the lives on nine people, without guilt, because he believed the hateful ideologies maintained by Breitbart, and InfoWars, and the other insane rags racists like to message me articles from. White supremacy means that Black Americans are not safe in their own houses of worship. These ideologies have consequences. 

Yesterday, the courts ruled again that cops can kill Black people without legal consequences. Philando Castile was pulled over in a traffic stop because the officer thought he "looked like someone involved in a robbery" even though he couldn't get a good look at the passengers... Castile then informed the police officer that he had a gun on him because he had a concealed carry permit before reaching for his ID in his wallet. The officer shot him SEVEN times, killing him, with his fiancee in the passenger seat filming the whole exchange, and his young daughter in the backseat, watching her father get murdered. Yesterday, the jury found him not guilty, not even on charges of murder, but on charges of second-degree manslaughter and reckless discharge of a firearm. Does it matter that Castile was following the directions of the officer and had a permit to carry? No. Because the officer's fear of a Black man with a gun justifies that man being shot seven times inside his own vehicle in front of his child. Does it matter that Castile was not a robber, but a beloved public schools worker whose death inspired the school children to send him letters with hand-drawn rainbows expressing how big his heart was and how sad they are that he is gone? No. Because his Blackness overrode the goodness, the love he poured into this world. This case shows once again that racist fear matters more than Black lives, and living good lives won't keep Black people alive. 

Today is just another day in America with yet another reminder that our racism has deadly consequences. So today I'm praying for a day when we can agree that Black Lives Matter, regardless of political party affiliations, and I'm donating to organizations that support black communities and advocate for police reform. I'm also promising that I will continue to have tough conversations with my people, because we cannot allow this hate to flourish in our own families, our own communities. It's just too dangerous. We have to do better, for Philando Castile and for Reverend Clementa Pinckney, Cynthia Hurd, Reverend Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Tywanza Sanders, Ethel Lance, Susie Jackson, Depayne Middleton Doctor, Reverend Daniel Simmons, and Myra Thompson. 

Philando Castile

Spiritual Strategies for Resistance; Or, How I'm Tricking Myself into Being Less of an Asshole

A few days ago, a car with a huge TRUMP/PENCE bumper sticker appeared in my neighborhood. A few weeks before that, a car with a Sons of the Confederacy sticker started parking in my spot. I would like to take lots and lots of credit for not leaving any snarky notes on either of these cars. I didn't rip the stickers off, or spit on them, or death glare their owners. These are all things I wanted to do, but I did not do. And eventually I grew a little annoyed at my inability to go high, or remain above, or generally not go into an internal rage about these cars. I found myself walking the dogs on a new path just so I could avoid the hot rage boiling up in my stomach. My rage at these cars (and their owners) wasn't affecting them; it was affecting me. And to repeat a refrain from last week's post, I do effing yoga! I meditate! So what gives?! It is deeply unfair that I have not completely mastered contemplative practices and transcendental meditation, that I have not, in short, become a completely different, non-violent, non-reactionary, non-judgmental person. How rude.

I can walk the other way to avoid seeing the offending cars in my neighborhood, but I cannot avoid seeing them in the parking lot at Target or driving in front of me on campus. This is central Florida after all. Walking the other way is really not a solution. So, I started doing a small thing every time I see a bumper sticker that would usually send me into a rage spiral: I started praying for its owner. When I am walking the dogs, and I see that TRUMP car, I mutter under my breath "Lord soften their hearts." When I am walking the dogs alone, this is fine and good. But, yesterday, I was walking to the campus parking garage with Matt and I saw a Hillary Liar Liar bumper sticker paired with a Trump sticker (oh the irony!), and, in the middle of my sentence, I said "Lord soften their hearts" and shook it off. This caused some confusion because I had been talking to Matt about how predatory academic publishing can be, and he thought I was talking about Academic publishers, and I guess that works too. Then, later last night, I saw a car covered in roughly 50 bumper stickers with everything from hate speech towards Obama and Hillary to slurs against all Liberals. You know the car. We've all seen this car. The "Lord soften their hearts" wasn't doing the trick so I just kept going: "Lord, soften their hearts, quicken their minds, improve their knowledge!" So, is this strategy a little pointed and self righteous? Oh yeah. Does it help to remind me of the humanity behind the bumper sticker? A little. Does it help me shift my rage response into something different, focusing my energies on my desire for more intelligence and kindness in the world? Yes.  And, if I'm lucky, maybe it will keep me from any car accidents caused by rage black outs.

Because I am naturally a bit of an asshole, a bitch, etc., this small act is about all I can manage on my own, so I listened to a Liturgists podcast I've been meaning to listen to in which they interview Christina Cleveland about spiritual strategies for healing and advocacy. Cleveland is a professor of reconciliation theology at Duke Divinity, and the Liturgists hosted a conversation with her post-election but pre-inauguration about how those that felt broken, dismayed, and bitter about the election could more forward. If you have a little over an hour and this is a topic that interests you, then I suggest you listen to it, because it was an amazing conversation. But, if not, I'll boil down some of the tips that I found so useful.

Cleveland, like me and so many of my colleagues, had to teach the morning after the election, and she entered a classroom of depressed, shocked, and terrified students that needed healing. These are the steps she led her students through, and the ones she recommends for all of us trying to cope with the grief and resentment and get to a better place: She began the class by allowing them to lament; they shared their collective grief, anger, and fears for the future. Then, she asked them to reflect on what God means to them and the goodness they still see in this world. Then, she borrowed a technique from AA practices called the Resentment Prayer. She asked her students to create a list of things that they want to pray for for themselves--good health, better relationships with loved ones, freedom from fear, etc.--then, after they had compiled their lists, she told them that they would be praying those things for Trump instead. She said, we are going to force ourselves to pray for this goodness in his life. After they were done with that, they did the same thing for Trump voters. Wow.

I don't know about you, but I was nowhere close to having any impulse to pray for Trump or those who voted for him on Nov. 9th. I still have a hard time praying for Trump. I'm convinced her students had the advantage over me because they didn't know what she was going to make them do. I know, so it's very easy for me to say that my "Resentment Prayer" for Trump is that he become more honest, mentally stable, and aware of the hate in his heart. While some of these things might be what I would also pray for for myself, I can obviously skew the list if I know I am going to make myself pray for Trump instead. Plus, I'll admit I do not want to pray for his health. Now, I do not exactly pray against his health, but I do feel small amounts of hope when I read about his atrocious dietary habits and distrust of exercise--like maybe nature will take its course. It's horrible, I know, and I wish I didn't feel this way, but I do. It is much easier for me to do this prayer technique with his supporters, and it has been so helpful in forcing me to recognize the humanity, the god-given potential (to borrow a phrase from Hillz), of even those I deeply disagree with. And someday I'm hoping to get to a point where I can pray for Trump's good health and mean it.

Another strategy that they discussed is making a list of the ways in which the Trump voters you know still do good in this world. One of the hosts said that it helps him to realize that the main difference between him and Trump voters is just his level of awareness and acknowledgement of these social issues. He (as a white man) is equally as complicit in the white supremacy that enabled Trump and many of his voters, but he, unlike them, recognizes it for the evil that it is. At the end of the day, many of their actions (good and evil) are pretty comparable. I've also found it super helpful to distinguish between policies and action when I am trying to overcome my resentment of the other side. One of the main recipients of my resentment and judgment is Conservative Christianity. I find so many of the beliefs of these churches abhorrent and offensive, and I blame them for allowing millions to think that somehow supporting the hateful treatment of the poor, the immigrant, the outcast can be a Christian stance. So, when I do this exercise, I list the good they do in this world regardless of their ideologies I find so toxic. For example, most conservative megachurches are heavily involved with food pantries and kitchens. They fund and volunteer at shelters, and lately they have become more involved in foster care and adoption. These are all causes I believe in too. It helps me to overcome my reactionary rage if I remind myself of the good these institutions are doing in this world, and how they can afford to help some of these situations in ways that I, and the smaller churches I attend, cannot. I then do this on a smaller level. For instance, one of the things I admire about X Trump voter who I am trying to soften my heart towards is that they easily maintain a friendly and welcoming stance towards strangers. They will give someone in need a ride, they will stop to say hello, they build relationships with their employees. I, on the other hand, avoid eye contact with as many humans as possible. So, in this way, X  Trump voter lives out their Christianity more authentically than me since I find it so hard to make my physical actions reflect the welcoming ideals I firmly believe in. It has helped me immensely to remember the ways in which I fail to live up to all of my values. It undercuts my tendency towards self-righteousness and indignation and reminds me to be humble in my assessment of others.

So, these are just some of the things that I do to try to trick myself into being less of an asshole. I pray for the hearts of the owners of offensive bumper stickers. I pray for all of the blessings that I would want for myself and my loved ones to fall on those I resent, and one day I hope to be able to do that with Trump. And I make lists--who doesn't love some good list making?--of the ways in which I fail to live by my values and the ways in which those I've been judging do embody some of those same values. I have no expectations that any of these practices will actually change the hearts and minds of those I oppose. My desire is that it will help soften my own heart and allow me to assume a more peaceful and contemplative stance towards others. I don't want to let the bastards grind me down, or lessen my humanity, or zap my emotional energies. And, the most optimistic part of me--which is a very tiny, minuscule piece--hopes that someone on the other side is doing the same thing.

On the Inconvenience of Other People; or Why, Despite All of the Meditation, Yoga, and Prayers, I'm Still A Bitch

Since I decided to leave the loud, Right-Wing, hateful version of Christianity for a quieter, more contemplative Christianity, I have become a person who meditates, who does yoga, who prays the Daily Offices (sometimes). I try to do at least one of these things a day. I might read one of Father Richard Rohr's Daily Meditations and spend 10-15 minutes meditating on recognizing the image of God in all people, or I might do some Yoga with Adriene repeating one of her mantras like I am grateful or I am kind throughout the practice, or I might recite some prayers from one of my prayer books asking God to temper my self-righteousness with humility. These practices have nurtured my spiritual growth and helped me to become a more balanced and empathetic human being, in my private life, but most people who know me, who hang out with me or have had a conversation with me in passing would probably be surprised that these are things that I do. Because here's the thing: even though I meditate on practicing gratitude and kindness, even though I pray for humility to temper my indignation and for the ability to speak in love, even though I recognize that all humans are sacred, I remain a bitch, an asshole, or--on good days--just a little cold, in my day-to-day life.

I would like to blame other people. It is much easier for me to love my neighbor by donating to causes that help the least among us, the refugees, the poor, the victims of hate crimes and oppression, than it is for me to be kind to my literal neighbor. After all, they slam the kitchen cabinets when they cook, they park like idiots who have never seen a straight line, and they complain that you are moving furniture late at night when you are most definitely on the couch watching Netflix. For me, a good relationship with a neighbor is one in which we both avert our eyes and pretend not to notice each other when we pass each other in the stairwell. I detest small talk, so I avoid my neighbors when I can, and some of my neighbors downright annoy me. It's so simple to  love my neighbor in Syria through donations or letter writing, but it seems nearly impossible for me to show love to my literal next-door neighbor.

But what about non-neighbors? I pretty much struggle to show kindness and empathy to most people I interact with on a regular basis. For example, I avoid any sort of socializing or mingling with my colleagues if I can help it. The annual department party is something I used to force myself to go to (all the while being annoyed and desperately wishing to escape); it is now something I gleefully ditch. Most of the people I've worked with probably think I am a bitch, and they are not wrong because I can be bitchy. It's actually my first response to social situations. Since I came to Florida, alone, I've gossiped about colleagues behind their backs, I've scoffed at their struggles, and I've celebrated their failures. I've been actively kind to maybe ten of my colleagues in my 4 years here. I'm telling you, I am a bitch, and the yoga hasn't cured me.

Then there's the (few) people I actually let in. I do not make friends easily, and I do not keep many of them. My closest friends are from high school, and I still keep in touch with that small group. I made a handful of friends in undergrad, mostly Matt's friends and my sister's boyfriend. I made 3 friends in my master's program, and they were the people I shared an office with. And, in Florida, I've made a few friends. Even with my friends, I can be a bitch. I tend to tune out when they are struggling with something and need to talk it through, or I am too forceful with my opinion of what they should do, and I've always had a problem with talking about the person who's not in the room at the moment. I do think that I have improved since my younger days. In high school and undergrad, my friends grew resentful of my exacting judgment. I could be cruel to them when they did something I did not agree with. I was often not a good friend, and I have worked to change that. However, I still wish that I could be a more loyal friend, that my first response to a friend's pain would be compassion and not "this is how you should fix it," that I could get over my tendency to engage in petty gossip even about my own friends. I need to be kinder in my friendships too.

Finally, there's family. If I wanted to go into detail about how my bitchiness affects my ability to be a good sister to my siblings, I would need another blog post. Let's just say my exacting judgment and cruel responses to someone acting in a way I wouldn't have always plagued my relationships with my siblings. I'm sure its the subject of several of their diary entries and rants to friends. This is something I've worked on changing, and I think I've made progress. However, I do still struggle to forgive family members for doing something I disagree with, especially when it comes to Trump. While I have been the subject of some familial ugliness this past year, my immediate family has stood by me and defended me, and for that I am grateful; however, someone in my immediate family voted for Trump, and I have struggled to get over that. It feels personal. It feels like a rejection of me and the many well-reasoned (or so I thought) calls for logic and compassion I posted throughout the election year. I've struggled to show grace to those I love who voted for that man. I've struggled to forgive them. I've struggled to understand their point of view.

On some level, I recognize that my own coldness in social interactions, my tendency to gossip and mock, my obvious annoyance and disgust with other people, detracts from my credibility when I am calling for kindness, compassion, and empathy. Why should someone listen to me when I am arguing for a truer, more compassionate Christianity but I fail to show compassion to my friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers? I truly believe all of these things, and yet, I so struggle to put my beliefs into action when it comes to people I have to interact with. People I've never met do not disappoint or frustrate me, and so it is so much easier to show them love and kindness. It is much more difficult to practice kindness to the person who voted for Trump, who parks in your spot, or who posts too many obnoxious hipster photos to Instagram.

By now it's probably become obvious that I do not really think the problem is other people. We are all human. They are doing their best to get by. They are grappling with the same world filled with hatred and violence and darkness that I am. Most days I think that the problem is me. After all, I meditate! I read!  I pray! I recite mantras! I practice yoga and yet I remain inflexible (both physically and mentally). At times I think that these contemplative practices are just at odds with who I am. I'm just not a hippie-dippy, share-the-love sort of person, right? But, then again, some of these practices have to resonate with me if I choose to return to them day after day. So, maybe my bitchiness, my tendency to respond to others with rejection, cruelty, or self-defensive withdrawal, is not who I am. It's just who I have been, and Who I Am Hates Who I've Been (that's a little Relient K reference for you). Or maybe both of these things are true. Richard Rohr would say that viewing this as one of two options reflects that I am trapped in the Dualistic Mind. It's not either/or; it's both/and. Humans are complicated, and yes, annoying, and that includes me. I am a meditating, yoga-doing, mantra-reciting hippie, and I am a judgmental bitch. I am both, and maybe accepting that both of these sides of me can coexist will allow me to acknowledge my bitchy impulses and still choose kindness and empathy. People will continue to do annoying things, and my bitchy self will continue to be annoyed by them. People will continue to piss me off and disappoint me and drive me crazy. However, my hippie self knows that I can acknowledge my emotional responses as valid but still choose kindness and empathy. It's not a failing on my part that I am annoyed by other people, but it is a failing when I allow that annoyance to prevent me from treating others well. So, that's where I've arrived on the issue. How hippie-dippy do I sound? ☮