My God...
It's been officially one year since I started doctoral study. Life changes so quickly even if it seems you're in slow motion - what seems stagnant now seems so fleeting later on. So, school started. Work continued. Relationship evolved.
I am half-way through my doctoral education now. Once again, I'm waiting for another week-long orientation, research intensive, where I meet-and-greet faculty and this time, I meet the new students, the "me's" from a year ago. I'm old hat now. This time next year, I'll be qualifying to proceed to my dissertation work...God willing.
I've never read this much in my life. Right now, I find myself reading through tons of psychology literature, motivation and self-efficacy, and intermingling those concepts with the likes of health literacy, self-care, affective support and mechanical circulatory support devices. Then, all that's left after qualifying is to find some hospital organization with a flourishing mechanical heart support program and get access to their patients and hope to God they feel like filling out my survey... THEN compile, analyze, report, write, defend... my dissertation and receive my PhD posthumously...
This is insane. Who in their right mind would want to do this shit?
I made a personal promise to myself, in 1996, when I was finishing my first RN degree. Having to work full time, it seemed so difficult, getting through that associate degree program on 3-4 hours of sleep at night, staying up for 48 hours straight on clinical days. I promised myself I would see this through, no matter how long it took, and I'd take this as far as I could go. Now, balancing full time work and full time school is easy; leave that to the professionals, baby.
I remember last year, our first "meet and greet" mixer, and I was the newbie. A faculty member, who turned out to be the Dean, of all people, said hello to B. Leaning towards him, she said, "Be gentle with Brian. This journey he's taking, it's a marathon, it's not a sprint..."
B. looked at me, made a wide eyed stare, and smiled as we got drink refills.
I'm ashamed to say that I read my research literature during my vacation in Miami, while B. read some soft-core porn memoir of an ex-marine turned male escort. B. has been so patient through all this; he ignores my fits and just takes a deep breath whenever I mention the beginning of a new semester. Maybe this year, I'll be able to be better to everyone, to him and to myself.
And now I'm getting gray hair. Fortunately, gray hair is en vogue, what with the gay rage over Anderson Cooper and all...
Looking back on the last year, it wasn't all bad. There has been a lot of growth and change and I'm that much closer to getting to where I need to be, and where I've always dreamed of being. I can look back on this all one day and remember when I worked two jobs to pay for community college just to finish my basic RN degree, when I'd photocopy portions of my classmates' books when I was at work, since I couldn't afford to buy them. I'm really almost there.
Finish line, see you soon...
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