Ever since I resolved to quit school in early November, I have felt an unbearable tension in my neck. At first, I thought I must have slept on it funny. Actually, if I am being honest, I think I leaned on it weird at the bar during a night of debauchery with another bitter graduate student friend. While letting off some steam should have left me feeling great, the next morning my neck was killing me. I have been in pain all month.
Normally, I would have treated this as a physical problem, but I have experienced this before. You see, when I get really stressed, my body rebels. My back goes out, or I end up on crutches (really), or some other gnarly incapacity which invariably prompts everyone to ask "What HAPPENED?" To which I invariably have no answer except "Nothing, I woke up this way and think my body is just freaking out." It's a seriously disappointing answer when you essentially cannot walk and people have images of grand car accidents or a gnarly cliff diving incident.
So I knew that the neck thing was likely stress. I tried to get my neck to cooperate. I meditated, I started journaling again, I got into lucid dreaming. I tried stress reduction and listened to my body. None of it worked. I decided it was sitting hunched over my laptop, which I just can't avoid. Finally, I called and made an appointment for my therapist.
I can't underscore the importance of a good therapist if you are considering quitting graduate school. While friends and family are a great source of support, you need a safe impartial place to talk through the fears, desires, and issues you may be hiding from even yourself. I scheduled my appointment for directly after a department lecture, perhaps presciently. After a particularly brutal and appalling session (attack of the academics!), I rushed out early to make my appointment. Most of the session was spent in tears. The word "comprehensive exams" served as a trigger. We couldn't even discuss my impending exams without my tearing up into a hysterical mess. Everytime I thought about staying, I started bawling. After mapping out various employment scenerios my therapist finally asked why I needed a job to quit. She looked genuinely appalled by the situation I was in. I was doing catastrophe thinking, she said, and recognizing this would make things better.
She was right. We talked honestly about my fears, the sources of those fears, and I heard myself saying things I didn't ever normally let myself think: like how I wanted to quit and walk away even without employment, and what I felt was holding me back. For whatever reason I had decided that I needed my paltry, poverty level stipend, when the reality is that even working at Starbucks would pay better (and provide health insurance!). Deep down, I felt it was only ok to leave for something better.
By the end of the session, I was a hot sniveling mess, but I felt free. It was only driving home that I noticed I didn't have anymore neck pain. And it hasn't returned.
There is no right or wrong way to leave. There isn't even a right or wrong way for you to leave. Be open to possibilities, but know that all doors are open. If you are struggling and having a hard time, you may be closing doors on yourself. Which is why it is such a good thing to have an outside person who can help you decipher the crazy mixed up feelings and legitimate fear leaving entails.
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