Sunday, December 2, 2012

Quitting is a Pain in the Neck

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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