being gloated to death
The end of last week was lost to depression - I'm talking serious blues. Hopelessness and self-pity! I couldn't even bear to consider writing about it. I realized that part of my depression is related to loneliness, and part of it is realizing that this project is much harder than I originally expected. In both cases, no easy solution. Trying to get the dissertation moving is a good distraction!
I went ahead and sent the "have I missed your email?" reminder and heard from the person on my committee who is holding things up - not that she has given me feedback for my proposal yet, but she and I have been working on trying to get my "External Examiner" in place - this is supposed to be an "expert" in the field who can comment on my proposal and then final dissertation. Anyway, I think that is on its way and now I have to get my chair to review my IRB (she's not back until Oct 12 - it should be in her box by then!), the next two people on my committee to read the proposal, get IRB (the ethics review board) approval, and then start setting up interviews.
This part is the good part! The more work I can do on this, the better I feel.
I was hiking yesterday, and a friend reminded me that having all this space and time is what is allowing me to be creative (to think of this performance piece) - and I know that's true. But I don't like bumping into all my neurotic skeletons in the closet! They scare me and put me in seriously bad places...
my consolation - reading Anne Lamott
"On my forty-ninth birthday, I decided that all of life was hopeless, and that I would eat myself to death. These are desert days... However, after having a second cup of coffee, I realized that I couldn't kill myself that morning--not because it was my birthday but because I had promised to get arrested the next day...Also, my back was out. I didn't want to die in crone mode. Plus, there was no food in the house. So I took a long, hot shower instead and began another day of being gloated to death." Plan B (pg.3-4)