How long is a piece of string?

Here’s the thing: changing careers is hard. Not just because of the need to pick up completely new skills, and hit the ground running, but also because everyone expects you to be unwaveringly enthusiastic about how you’re going in your new field. You feel a need to prove to everyone that this is not a mistake, that you’ll make it, that this is ‘it’.

So when the going gets hard, there’s still this need to keep smiling, because ‘you chose this’ and ‘if you don’t like it, why don’t you go do something easier’. This week, the going got hard. I’m trying to get my research off the ground, conceptually, and it’s like hitting my head against a brick wall. I have to bring something new to the table, so I had a couple of ideas that I thought would be pretty nifty to look at, and they are – but it turns out they’re also too involved for the scope of my current degree. It’s hard finding the ‘right’ idea: one that’s above all, interesting enough to sustain you throughout the degree, but that will also let you graduate at some point, and that’s also possible given the chronic lack of time. Not too little, not too big. (Hence the title of this post.)

While trying to get my research off the ground, I’m also trying to memorise hundreds of symptoms (plus changes from one diagnostic system to another), trying to learn different therapies and techniques so I can provide adequate treatment in the clinic, make weekly session plans, and prep for upcoming neuropsych assessments that we do throughout the degree. (And this is my ‘mid-year break’ – soon, coursework will start up again.) All these components are pretty much separate. Patients don’t (and shouldn’t have to!) care that you have to do research; the research supervisor doesn’t care that you have to do coursework; the neuropsych supervisor doesn’t care that you’ve had a hard clinical week and don’t feel like writing reports. And exactly zero people care that you also have to work for money. And the admin. Oh, the admin – it never ends, and I’m sure one day it will provide the subject for an absurdist play. So this is where I’m at right now.

I started writing this post a few days ago, but wanted to cool off a bit before submitting it. Now, looking back at it, I have to smile a little, because this really is what I want to be doing, and I do generally prefer to keep busy. But, the point is, there most certainly are bad days, and just because something is done by choice, there shouldn’t be an expectation (often self-imposed) of permanent cheerfulness.

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2 thoughts on “How long is a piece of string?

  1. Alison 8 July, 2013 / 3:57 pm

    Now I’m not parent but this sounds like a similar plight; you got into a situation with your eyes open (for the most part) and overall it’s still where you want to be but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t days when you want to scream, make a blanketfort and camp out for a day or two.

    I think that’s pretty reasonable, actually. The expectation of cheerfulness (whether self-imposed or not) is adding another thing that you ‘should’ be doing to an already packed life. Being able to leave that behind would probably leave more energy to actually enjoy things overall and to cope when things hit a rough patch.

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