Ermahgerd, Indeed!

People told me that finishing a PhD would feel incredible but that it really wouldn’t hit me until several months later.  They said I’d be driving in the car or shopping at the grocery store and have one of those ‘holy crap!’ moments of realization.

I thought they were fully of hooey.  I know how hard I worked to finish that degree.  I know how many hours I sacrificed with my kids to study and write.  I know how ‘Wow!’ it seemed walking across that stage back in May.

Yea, well I was wrong…

because this arrived today…

Ermahgerd!!!  The fancy, hardbound version of my dissertation arrived on my doorstep this morning.

It’s all bound up with gold lettering and actually looks like a book! A real book, people!

I started tweeting and texting the photo to share the excitement of having the whole thing finishing and sitting in my hands.  It was intense…

And immediately followed by ‘Holy crap! I have a PhD!!’

It wasn’t in the grocery store or while I was driving in the car.  Nope it was in the middle of the kitchen while the kids played around me and the dog tried to eat the envelope and the phone rang and the dishwasher buzzed.

And the moment was perfect.

Maybe I’ll write a real book someday.  Maybe not.

But for the rest of forever I’ll at least have this on my shelf and I can say with pride ‘Mama wrote that, kids!’

Officially a PhD!!

I woke up this morning as just Neena.

By lunch I was Dr. Neena, PhD!

I did it!  I walked in that room, did my best to answer questions, spoke from my heart, and learned that as of today I officially earned my PhD.

Three years this has been my focus.  And, today I did it.

When it was over and I was leaving the building I felt a bit different and I kind of expected others to look at me different – kind of like that first time you have sex and YOU know you had sex and you wonder if others know you just had sex. Should you tell them you just had sex? Do they already sense that you had sex?  Yea, kind of like that.

I wanted to shout at the random guy in the parking deck “Hey, do you know what I fucking did?! I just earned my PhD, sucker!!”

Instead I told the worker at the Firehouse Subs where we stopped for lunch after. And the karate instructor, my twitter followers, my family, and the dog (who has now rightfully earned his name “Doc” and is no longer illegitimate!)

It was a good, good day!!  Apparently my boobs thought so too because every picture taken to capture the moment shows them standing at full attention.  I’m professional like that.  *snort*

Now if you’ll excuse me – I’m off to celebrate with a bowl of ice cream and a trashy novel called “Having Adam’s Baby.”  Don’t judge.  I’ll celebrate with liquor when I’m sure my body will tolerate the dairy products and I’m off the medicine from the parasite.

Existential Job Crisis

One of the first question people ask me when they hear I’m working on my PhD is “what are you going to do when you graduate?”

It is easy to brush this question off when graduation seems far down the obstacle-filled road.  It is more difficult to avoid answering this question when graduation is roughly 6 weeks away.

I can honestly answer that I don’t plan to anything with my PhD…right now.

I usually get a few shocked faces, a couple confused and questioning looks, and even some outright “why the hell not?!” demands.  I always do my best to explain to those people who question my plans, but my answers never seem to sink in.

See, I didn’t go after this PhD in an attempt to better my career or to make more money.  I just wanted to see if I could do it.

It’s that simple.

I wanted to challenge myself because I simply love to learn.

On one occasion I was told that this answer was downright stupid and that I was a waste of a good education.

That’s fair I suppose.  Some may think that going after a degree like this without intentions of “using” it in a traditional sense is a waste.  Honestly I’m fine with them thinking that.  I know better though..

It’s not that I don’t have after graduation plans.  I just don’t have traditional after graduation job plans.

I have writing goals, plans for the homestead, and ideas for doing more to help raise my children to be the best they can be.  And none of that is a waste by any means.

But, today I had this weird moment of existential job crisis.  It started with looking at freelance writing opportunities I have emailed to me everyday and ended with me looking at faculty and research positions at universities around the country.  I looked a pay scales, academic publishing opportunities, PostDoc research fellowships, etc.  It was overwhelming, slightly depressing, and completely nerve-wracking.

I closed the computer and asked myself “Why the hell are you even looking at jobs?!”

I suddenly had to ask myself ‘Am I looking for jobs because that is the path I want to take or am I looking for jobs because I feel like I should?’  Am I looking at tenure track positions because that is the next logical step or because I know in my heart that’s where I’m called to be?  

And the answer was pretty simple…

No, it is not the path I want to take and it’s not what I’m called to do.

I felt relief in admitting this to myself (again) and sticking to my guns about not wanting to follow the path people expect of a traditional PhD holder.

See, I want to do great things.  I want to embrace what I’ve learned and use it to create something…unstoppable.  And I will.  I want to blend mom/scholar/blogger/academic/writer/wife/dreamer into a package that is wholly me.

But at the end of the day I want to put my head on that pillow and know that I never compromised what makes me feel fulfilled for the sake of doing what others feel should be done with a PhD.  I want to rest knowing that I never let the 9 to 5′s wash away my dreams.

This is one instance where traditional just doesn’t apply to me.  And I’m okay with that.

I did it…

Today I did it.

I finished my dissertation.  I made my final edits, updated my references, and finished formatting the whole thing…

All 173 pages of blood, sweat, and tears.

In a couple of days I’ll email it to my major professor for some final feedback before it goes to my committee.

I’ll defend on April 16th, do any requested edits they may have, and submit the official document to the university.

But in this moment it is done.  Whatever is left cannot happen until my professors get their hands on it.

I won’t feel officially and completely done until graduation on May 11th, but the hard stuff is behind me.

And, when this arrived today I took it as a good sign…

official graduation regalia

Strike that.  I took it as a huge, neon, Vegas-style billboard that shouted “Hell Yea!!!”

Hell yea, indeed.

 

Apparently I have my best insights in the car – and what comes out is the beginning of chapter 5

I had an unexpected meeting with my professor yesterday afternoon to discuss taking my dissertation from good and defendable to something superior.  We talked and laughed while he did his notorious motivating and inspiring.  I drove home from the meeting with a renewed excitement and  knew that I needed to find a way to grow my confidence in what I’m doing.  So I did what I know how to do.  I wrote.  And this is what came out…

For the past three years I have existed in two worlds.  In this first world I am a stay at home mom and a blogger.  I plan meals, carpool to preschool, pack lunches, help with homework, and watch karate lessons.  I tell my stories of struggle and joy to an online audience as I march through the daily trenches of parenting. I open up to them in a way that feels honest, wholesome, and respectful of what I try to do everyday.  Through opening my own kimono I have accepted that my virtual sisters in the blogosphere have come to my be own lifeline to women with the similar goals of raising happy, healthy children and not losing themselves in the process.  I feel pain when they share their stories of heartache and express gratitude when they validate my less than stellar moments as a mother.  I interact with them on Twitter, plan trips with them to meet up in NYC, and send as many virtual hugs as my fingers can type.  I celebrate the pictures of birthdays, laugh at the misguided family road trip, and do my best to ‘hold their hands’ as they wait for the doctor to call.  They do the same for me without hesitation or motive beyond wanting to be there for support and celebration.  This world is crazy and frazzled every moment of every day, but having that tie to others that are just as crazy and frazzled reinforces that, as I mother my children, I am not alone.

My second world is one that has thrown my first into chaos many times.  In this second world I am a budding researcher, a girl that has struggled to adopt ‘scholar’ as a descriptive trait, a woman that has struggled to find a place in academics and feminism.  In this world I am forced to adopt new lenses, ask difficult questions, and be critical of things that have always seemed so natural to my existence and my choices.  It has, at times, been almost unbearable living in this world.  It is here that I learn of my own ignorance, come face to face with my lack of understanding or knowledge, and begin to question things that I’ve always felt were better left alone.  I came into this world with a tiny bit of curiosity and nothing more than a desire to understand more about the women that share their stories online.

I’ve often lacked confidence in this world – always wondering if I’m smart enough or academic enough to come out of this as even a small semblance of myself.

I’ve always been fearful of allowing these two worlds to collide.  I have worked to keep them separate by existing in my first world as just a mom and fighting the advantages of my second as someone with the stance that I’m just a curious person.  I’ve been afraid to call myself a researcher for fear that it will somehow marginalize those around me that don’t necessarily understand the academic world.  I struggle to even refer to all the stories I’ve collected as data – afraid that lumping them into that category will somehow diminish their strength and value.

I was driving in the car the other day – less than 24 hours ago -  when I suddenly asked myself why I’m so afraid to let these two worlds collide.  Why can’t I be a mom, a blogger, and a researcher? Is it because I don’t believe they can coexist?  No, I don’t think so.  Is it because I don’t see what I do as something valuable?  Not really.  I think it’s more than that.  I think I’ve been afraid to allow these two worlds to collide not for fear that what I do isn’t valuable, but for fear that I won’t follow through with my end of the bargain.  I have a responsibility, no matter what my title, to embrace this opportunity and grab hold of the chance to show others that this is a phenomenon is worth honoring and worth listening to.  It is my critical perspective, my overlap of worlds, that is opening up a space for these women – women like me – to speak and be heard.  I owe it to these women to give their stories a chance to be heard in as many forums as possible.  I owe it to other moms to bring to light a world that may very well save them from isolation.  I owe it to myself to recognize exactly how powerful allowing these worlds to collide can be for current and future mommy bloggers. But, in order to do that I must step over the divide.  I must embrace any and all titles and be willing to push further and deeper into this to see what lies on the other side.  I must abandon the fear that I don’t know much and grab hold of the fact that, quite frankly, I do.  I know this better than anyone.  I know how much voice and identity and community exist behind the screen and within the stories.  By existing as a mother,a blogger, and a researcher I know all too well how a simple curiosity can transform into a phenomenon worth fighting for.  This is just the first step…

 

Countdown to the Double D

I never really thought Double D would refer to anything other than my cup size.

Now it refers to something bigger – more terrifying than giant boobies.

I am officially counting down to my dissertation defense.

April 16th.

On April 16th I’ll march my giant boobies into a small room where I’ll discuss and defend my finished dissertation – the whole of my existence for the last three years.  I’ll sit before my committee and anyone else that attends (because they make the whole process even scarier by making it a public forum – bastards!) and do my best to convince them that they really should award me the PhD.

My confidence about the whole thing can probably be measured in teaspoons.

But, I’ve already ordered my graduation regalia so I sure as hell hope it goes well.

The rules state that a dissertation must be submitted to the committee at least two weeks prior to a defense.  That puts the turn-in date at April 2nd.  I need to have it ready for one final read through by my major professor at least a week or two before that.  That puts the real finish date at March 21st.

March 21st.

In just over a month I’ll be as done as possible with this dissertation before it gets put in the hands of the fate masters.

All I can say is HOLY CRAP and DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY!!!!!

It’s real, y’all.

Go ahead and say something nice.  I could use a couple more teaspoons of confidence as I use the next month to finish writing.

I bought a dress. Or two…

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I officially ordered my cap and gown for graduation. I have about 6 weeks to finish my dissertation before I defend it to my committee.  So where are my priorities?  Finding a graduation dress of course!  I ordered a couple of dresses the other day from this amazing website that offers very classic styles with customizable options. I ordered two because I like options, because I won’t know what I’ll be in the mood to wear, and because I’m an indecisive girl.  Once the dresses arrive I’ll be able to take them with me to find shoes, accessories, and anything else that might dress them up.  I love that both dresses have a 50′s sort of vintage look to them.  Fitting I guess for the PhD housewife.

Here is choice #1.  I love that I can add a cute cardigan and some accessories and it’ll go from classic to fancy.

Here is Option #2.  I actually had flared sleeves added to the dress because I’m not necessarily a sleeveless kind of gal.

Here’s where I need help – what shoes do I wear?  I’ll be in a graduation robe and walking across the stage so shoes need to be practical yet cute.  Plus, I’ll be squeezing my butt into pantyhose so any shoes need to be closed-toe. I’m also kind of an accessorizing moron so I have no idea what kinds of necklaces to put with either dress.  So what do you think?  I’m open to any and all fashion advice here!

100 Days

I’ve never really been one to flaunt my accomplishments.  I tend to take the milestone and the goals with a “it’s no big deal” attitude.  Writing, birthdays, school – I’ve always played them off as if they don’t matter. I’m not sure why I do this.  Maybe I don’t want to come off as arrogant.  Maybe I don’t want to steal the sunshine from someone doing something more profound or something bigger.  Maybe I just don’t know how to have pride and confidence in what I do.

Sure, occasionally I’ll shout from the rooftops “Hey, I made it to the mall today with all 3 kids and nobody cried or peed or spilled hot chocolate in Macy’s.”  Somehow that seems worthy of a pat on the back because really? 3 kids at the mall?  That’s like the bonus round of Fear Factor right there!

I’ve talked quite a bit on this blog about working on this PhD – about the struggles to balance it all, about maintaining myself and my voice in an academic world.  In the midst of classes, papers, and defenses I’ve never actually let myself believe I can do this.  I’ve downplayed this process and this accomplishment over and over again.  It’s just what I do.  I’m not sure why.  Perhaps I worry that I’ll fail or not actually finish the program.

Today, though, I ordered my cap and gown for graduation in May.

I ordered the robe, the correct tassel, and the doctoral hood I’ll get when I walk across the stage.  I ordered it after I received a flier in the mail announcing “100 Days Until Graduation.”  At first I wanted to vomit a little because I still have so far to go.  I still have to finish writing my dissertation, formatting it correctly, and defending it in from on my committee of super smart folks that I fear want to do nothing more than fail me so I’ll finally stick around and teach a class or two.  

Then I called my mom and step dad and sent a note to my husband.  They cheered, sounded genuinely excited, and asked repeatedly if I’d be wearing purple (why I’m not sure!).  My mom talked about flying down in May for the ceremony and my husband reminded me (again!) what an example this is for our kids.

And for a brief moment I was excited.  For a brief moment I believed that I’m actually going to have PhD behind my name.

Then the dog chewed up a favorite barbie doll and I was quickly brought back to reality.

But still.  100 days…

The When and Where of Writing

I’ve read in numerous books that it is not only important to have a space for writing, but it’s also important to have some semblance of a writing routine.

I know people that can only write first thing in the morning before anyone in the house wakes and demands attention.  I know people that work until the wee hours of the morning because that’s when creativity strikes.

I tend to break both those rule and write when I can and where I can.

I don’t have a designated writing space.  Our house just isn’t conducive to having an office or space specifically for work.  I write on the couch, in the bed, in the bathroom, on the closet floor, in the carpool line – wherever I can squeeze out 5 minutes.  If that means typing on my laptop on the outside of the tub while my bottom half is inside the tub then so be it!

When it comes to a writing routine I tend to take both sides.  If I am doing any of my personal writing, blogs, or fiction I don’t worry about where I am, how I look or what comes out.  I just write.  I just feel it.  I let it flow, skip the edits until necessary, and just enjoy the process of the ideas becoming something.

If I am writing anything academic it all changes.  I can’t even fathom putting words to page until I’m showered and wearing actual clothes (as opposed to my favorite yoga pants!).  I have to have a fresh pot of coffee ready, my glasses must be clean and accessible, I need a specific notebook and pen for jotting down ideas, and I have to go into this weird breathing get focused zen place to produce anything.

I go through all this and then maybe I can start to write.  Maybe the thoughts will come.  Maybe the words will actually make it to the page.  And this whole process feels so fake.  I feel like such a fraud when it comes to the “serious” academic writing.  It’s like I have to physically and mentally put myself into a “serious” space in order to create anything.  I’m such a dork, right?!  I’ve tried to do my academic writing in the same chaos and environment as my personal writing, but it ends up being about as non-academic as writing can be.

Academic writing feels so forced to me.  It never feels like it’s my voice or my ideas.  It feels more like I’m producing what is expected or celebrated by smart folks rather than what is real and taken from the depth of my soul.  And, that tends to piss me off.

I’m not sure where this post was meant to go or if I even have any kind of ending for it.  But, I just had to get that out there.  I hate not “feeling it” with academic writing – especially since I still have to finish my dissertation.

I have to say, though, that if I could write my entire dissertation like I write my blog I’d rock the shit out of it.

And then I’d smile from my couch while wearing my yoga pants as the serious academics shun my “non-serious” work.  But at least it would be me.

Not So Bad

I’ve had this blog post buzzing in my head for a couple weeks now.  It was one of those things that came to me after a deep discussion with my husband over my incessant state of overwhelmness.  Is that even a word?  Well, it is now.

Overwhelmness with school and writing my dissertation.  Overwhelmness with the house.  Overwhelmness with the kids’ activity and schedules.  It sometimes makes for a cranky mama.  And by cranky I mean yelling at everyone, contemplating drinking, and writing to the government to encourage them to make Valium a required maternal supplement.

I had somewhat of a breakdown breakthrough a couple weeks ago when I finally admitted (out loud!) that I can’t do it all.  Do you know how much it freaked my shit out just to say it out loud?!  To admit it to myself?!  I can’t be the perfect mother and wife.  I can’t keep a spotless house and still have time to analyze the thousand pages of data.  I can’t run myself ragged cooking and carpooling and dog training and running errands and still have time to breathe and exist in a somewhat lucid and functional state.  I just can’t do it all.

And I though to myself “Why the hell do I think that I should?!”

In that moment I realized I’m kind of a hypocrite.  Congratulations, Neena, you pretty much suck.

I realized that I am spending thousands of hours and thousands of dollars to work on this PhD that is focused specifically on how mommy bloggers are creating a new dialogue of motherhood that is based on exposing everything we don’t see in the magazines and within “The Jones’.”  It’s about capturing the dialogue of their experiences of motherhood in all its raw, honest, less than perfect, authentic existence.  It’s about the underbelly – the real motherhood experience, not the “reality” we are presented within our culture.

Yet here I am not even living the life and the stories I study.  Here I am trying so hard to be perfect at everything I do involving my role as a mother that I’ve been failing to admit (even to myself!) that perfection fucking sucks!  It’s not achievable.  It doesn’t make me happy.  And, at the end of the day it doesn’t make my kids love me any more or any less.

Hello, big giant light bulb.  How many nights of overwhelmness tears did it take get your lazy ass to come on?!

So in the midst of this breakdown breakthrough I made a decision.  With the blessing of my husband I have hired a housekeeper.

Yes.  I have hired someone to come in and clean my house every two weeks because I CAN’T DO IT ALL.  She starts tomorrow and I couldn’t be more thrilled.  I couldn’t be more excited to have at least this much off my shoulders for the time being.  And, I couldn’t be more willing to yell to the world that not so perfect is really not so bad.

Fuck you, Super Mom!