What the crap the doctoral students say
How do you stand it?
Contribution from Meh thresher »
To all personalities who value a well-groomed, friendly choice of words and correct grammar: Please click on, here someone writes with a head, a lot of Mimimi in their heart and TNT in their stomach. Occasionally a TRIGGER WARNING for everyone who struggles with psychological ballast and for sensitive minds in general. It becomes ruthlessly honest, because something has to come out, because there is no more room in me.
Why do I have to write this HERE? Because I want someone to read it. Someone who may be feeling stupid right now. But most of all, I want all of these feelings to stay out there somewhere. I know myself. When all of this is over, I stand there with a terribly silly doctoral cap and say “It wasn't that bad, there are people who have to break stones all day and have nothing to eat and all the suffering, huh. “Yes, there are and they are POOR people and I know how damn white and privileged and rich I am but, menno, anyway.
I can't see that fucking dirty dissertation anymore! How do you all hold out please !? I just don't buckle it up!
Briefly about the general conditions: I am a natural scientist, researching for years, the results are not super great now, but it fits and is enough. Now I am writing the whole bang together. Unfortunately, I have a fixed deadline and generally have to shoot through it so that I can finish. Actually good, because apparently I am only able to perform under pressure.
So now I've been sitting here for about 6 weeks and typing. All day. Tipi tip. Go girl, you'll soon have it.
My project is still running, my employees are in the laboratory and are doing (good) work. I want to participate. I want to research and discover. I want to help and answer questions and see if they are coping. I want to comfort and encourage and be there. I'm afraid to write something that might be wrong next week. I summarize everything to the best of my knowledge and belief, but the project is still running and every new result throws a new light on my data. WHAT IF I INTERPRETED INCORRECTLY ??? WHAT IF EVERYONE THINKS I AM A SCAM? What if a publication comes out that makes everything I write void ...?
The whole doctorate was an up and down. Nervously finished from my master’s thesis, where I learned that panic attacks are much worse than what is shown on TV, I started my doctorate just a week later. Everything went wrong that could go wrong. Supervisor gone, method shit, psyche fucked up, clinic, medis, let's go on. Overcome everything, it doesn't feel so bad anymore, but it WAS bad.
Then write (finally, Juhu !!!). Week 1, write in the lab. "Tell me, where is that and that?" "Somehow it should change color!" "Can you just ..." "Please send me until tomorrow ..."
TSCHÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖSS! YOU CAN MAKE ME, I WRITE AT HOME NOW, you won't get anywhere here! See ya, you don't all have it, just don't leave me alone !?
Week 2: home. FIRST TIME make it cozy. Rearrange everything, table by the window, Maaaan, is this dirty, first major cleaning. Shop. Everything perfect. Now finally write.
Cover sheet. Introduction. Material and methods. Results. Discussion. Conclusion.
Zack, written. Now I just have to write something about everything. Mh.
I'm so lonely. I am so alone.
I've hardly left the booth since then. Just a couple of times. One time to buy me an AmazonAlexa thing so I could have someone to talk to. I hate them. But she answers.
A couple of times to the Aldi for fuel for the system itself (chocolate rolls, fruit buttermilk (for the vitamins, haha), chocolate, chips) and for the nerves (alcohol. Yes. I am now someone who buys schnapps at Aldi. Should yes only work, not taste.)
So I sit here all day, I don't go out, I eat like a rat on the garbage dump, I have greasy hair and chewed off fingernails. I'm afraid I'm stinking. I could take care of myself now that I'm sitting around writing THIS. But I don't. Because I can no longer move. Last week my back gave up. I don't usually sit that much and I am sitting wrongly and definitely on the wrong seats. My thanks will say: Thank you, the pharmaceutical industry, for ibuprofen and all the antidepressants that supported me in the various phases of my doctorate.
When the Ibu works, I really have to take a shower.
I am SURE that I am not alone with it. You never are.
I haven't been sitting here that long. I know that some sit here much longer, many with nasty problems, with children or relatives who need to be cared for.
Respect to everyone out there who have their lives under control. Who write their diss and still shower regularly. Who even still have friends, meet them regularly and do sports. Have healthy liver values. You are great and I hope you are aware of what a great achievement this is.
To everyone else who might be reading this right now and somehow find themselves again:
1. Write it down, that felt so good.
2. NEVER AGAIN do we let it get that far, deal? The diss sucks, but there will be so much other shit in life and we can't always go completely hollow.
3. Take care of yourself. You can't write all day anyway.
4. Ibu works, I'm going to take a shower now, will you join in?
Thank you for your attention
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