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.

Listening to Myself

Regardless of what the future holds for me, I'm working on listening to myself.  It's not always easy.  One way I'm trying is by meditating.  I used to meditate when I was in college, but never very consistently, and I found it a hard habit to form and a difficult one to practice.

My new solution is both innovative and a bit weird   You see, I have decided the best place to meditate is on  the toilet.  Not while going to the bathroom (though it sounds like it works for this guy), but with the lid down seated in full lotus on the lid.  It's the one place in the house that people expect to be left alone, and it is not somewhere I routinely hang out with a wifi connection. The bathroom also offers the advantage that no matter where you go, a hotel on a trip, the in-laws, there is one waiting for you.  This helps considerably with consistency. 

So far I have been pretty successful over the past two days this method has been under review.  It really brings new meaning to the phrase "praying to the porcelain God."