We
live in a society that makes any choice besides pushing through the pain very
difficult.
By
Not
long now until freedom — or temporary freedom, anyway.
I’m
just one month away from the end of my first year in graduate school. It’s my
first year out of a projected six, if I complete my PhD.
In
theory, it was a great idea to move from California to Wisconsin to attend one
of the best sociology programs in the country.
Five
to seven years of sacrifice could mean a lifetime of doing what I want —
researching, writing, and teaching — and getting paid well for it, assuming I
get a good job. That’s a likely outcome if I finish my degree at the University
of Wisconsin, given its outstanding reputation.
In
practice, it’s miserable.
The
problem is living 2,000 miles away from my closest friends, a social support
network that took years to build up. I’ll find friends in Wisconsin, but
relationships like the ones I left take time.
That’s
half the problem. The other half is graduate school itself.
As
a 34-year old, going back to the classroom just plain stinks. There’s much more
to say about that, but no doubt many people reading this already know what it’s
like to wake up daily to go to a job you hate.
One
part of my brain deals with graduate school rationally. “I can do this,” I tell
myself. “Just three more semesters of classes. Two down. Three to go.” And I’ll
spend all of my breaks — over four months each year — at home in San Diego.
Why
forego a long-term goal because of a little bit of short-term pain?
This
is the attitude that American culture endorses. It’s a value I learned from my
parents, both by listening to their words and observing their actions. Odds
are, you did too.
And
when people push themselves, we celebrate them. Nobody ever asks the CEO who
worked her way up from the mailroom if she took enough time for herself along
the way.
But
so much work comes at a cost.
The
stress of attending graduate school far from home is physically and mentally
breaking my body down.
For
me, this reaction to stress is nothing new. It’s just the first time I’ve
connected my chronic aches and pains to their emotional sources. I deal with
stress by clenching my jaw and tightening every muscle in my head, neck,
shoulders, back, legs, and feet.
For
decades, I did it without even noticing it. Now that I’m aware I do it, I don’t
know how to change. I can unclench my jaw, although I have to continually pay
attention to keep it that way. I don’t even know how to relax my legs and feet.
The
predictable results are daily migraines, a chronic inflammation of my Achilles
tendons, and gastrointestinal problems.
Additionally,
it seems my immune system is depressed, as cuts and scrapes on my body aren’t
healing and I can’t seem to kick a cough I contracted several weeks ago.
Can
I complete three more semesters of classes without doing irreparable harm to my
body? I don’t know.
What
I do know is that we live in a society that makes any choice besides pushing
yourself through the pain very difficult. And that’s not good for any of us.
We
ought to congratulate those who take a step back to care for themselves, rather
than shaming them. Because if we can’t support people who care for their own
needs, we’re not really thinking long-term at all.
OtherWords
columnist Jill Richardson is the author of Recipe for America: Why Our
Food System Is Broken and What We Can Do to Fix It. OtherWords.org.
