Disuse Leads to Collecting Butter

I have a…pattern. It has happened more than once, but is not quite yet at the point where I would consider it a habit.

I let things collect butter.

It is considerably worse than letting things collect dust as the stains are considerably more difficult to remove. Fortunately only one cloth garment has been the victim of this pattern. Unfortunately it was my favorite purse.

This is how it happens: I leave butter out so that it can be at room temperature when I need it. For important things: like grilled cheese sandwiches. Sometimes I am not careful with where I place things (eg. the mail, my purse, my keys, etc) and I only realize it has sat in butter for the past twenty minutes when I go back outside. It is extraordinarily messy and a pain in the ass to clean up. Oftentimes I just let the thing go. Unless it’s my purse. Then I look up Talkin’ Dirty with the Queen of Clean.

Recently I had a metaphorical butter collection moment. I thought I had gotten all the mess off but it turns out the situation was un-save-able. I feel really betrayed and hurt but I think I’m going to need to let it go.

Here’s the sitch: When I was in undergrad I was hella good at creating student research positions for myself. I bargained with the department to let me use my work-study financial aid in a novel way to work in the lab. I generated a new position, funded by the NSF. I am good at mineralogy so all of these positions loosely focused on my ability to tell microcline from plagioclase.

One of the long-term research projects I worked on turned into my Senior Thesis. I owned this project, in some capacity, from start to what I thought would be finish. I came up with a hypothesis. I designated the days fieldwork would happen and organized the transportation to get there. I collected my samples, observed the evidence, synthesized my information. In my last week of college, I worked nearly 100 hours so that all of the data visualization and writing would be complete on time for grading to happen. I met my deadline.

I got an A because the professor (call them Prof 1) grading the paper does not believe in A+s on principle. Ok, fine.

I wound up staying at Big American University for some time after I graduated. I cleaned up some of my writing. I cleaned up some of my visuals. I refined what conclusions I drew based on new information I’d previously been missing.

The consortium I did my research under invited me to share during a full team meeting. This was the first real presentation of my data and I was thrilled. The data seemed to be really important to the consortium and the room was full with positive energy. I shared my research (I went over time, for which a colleague never forgave me) and everyone was very excited at the discoveries I’d made and what that meant for the project at large. One young professor whom I did not work with asked me what my plans for publication were. Prof 1 cut in very curtly and stated simply, “She’s not publishing.”

This statement has always confused me. Prof 1 never explained their motivation. My <headcannon> is that Prof 1 (and Prof 2, whom I worked with to a lesser extent) is a very high profile, famous scientist in multiple disciplines. My research was not groundbreaking. My discoveries were cute (literally, in my opinion) but they did not push the frontier of anything. They were not a paradigm shift. And when you live and die by publication, I suppose that the only things worth publishing are those things that are remarkable.

Grad Student 1 worked with me on the field work, the synthesis of information and the backlash of interacting with Profs 1&2. She helped me come to this conclusion, somewhat. I appreciated her and went to her PhD conferral ceremony. She helped keep in perspective the expectations of the department.

About a month ago, I got an email from Prof 1 asking me where I put certain visualization files. I really really really wanted to respond with “Here are the instructions to the files within Google Drive and I look forward to co-authorship with you.” I emailed Grad Student 1, who is now Prof 3 (different uni) with my impulse response to Prof 1. In response I got a 6 paragraph email from Prof 3 detailing how that was a bad idea. As Prof 3 has more experience in the department and in academia in general, I deferred to her judgment and accepted that I wasn’t going to publish.

Then this week, I was editing the Junior Ranger’s grad school apps and it just so happens she’s applying to the same school as Prof 3. So I go to Prof 3's website. My heart broke. It broke pretty hard. Then I melted to a puddle and spent the rest of the night as a puddle.

In the carousel at the top of her Professor page she had the following image as one of four images displayed:

The following was a figure in my (unpublished and, what I have grown to feel is unremarkable) thesis:

(note: bottom right, bottom swath. Also note: I had to hand-craft those scale bars in PowerPoint.)

 

 It felt like someone had taken my heart and stomped on it. It felt like it turned out the butter had, in fact, soaked into every pore of my favorite purse and there would be no way to get it out.

I decided that academia was not the place for me over the course of the past two years. It has been a painful and emotional journey. I may yet change my mind because I understand that many people have given me the well-intentioned advice that a BA is not a large enough stick to wave at a fly in scientific academia.

Yet I was frustrated and devastated by the power of the pain this action could induce in me. I thought I had surrendered. I thought I had let it go, moved on. Instead, I ran towards it and felt like I needed to fix it. To claim it. To give myself permission to give myself credit.

After an evening of allowing myself to feel through my discomfort and pain, it eventually passed. I have been trying to practice experiencing my emotions to their completion but damn is that exhausting and no wonder ain’t nobody got time for that shit. Emoting and processing all of my emotions like a well-adjusted human being is a FUCKING STEEP learning curve.

*  *  *  *

Let’s switch topics for a moment so I’m not totally bumming you out this morning!

Hrm.

PartnerPenguin and I have been kitty sitting a big tomcat named Tofu. He is thusly named because he has too many toes. Observe:

Other things: I kidsat the Bear this week! I think there may be a cognitive switch between 5.5 and 5.6 years old where children become lawyers. There was really only one argument I had no case against her, which was “but I need to figure out how this dirt works!” I swear; the kid knows exactly how to play to my weaknesses.

I had a full itinerary of errands that suck to run alone planned for our day.

1.     Lunch. I swear, if there is one thing that I have mourned more than anything else about not having regular work, it’s that I eat lunch alone every day. That is the worst to me.

2.     Turn in e-waste to Best Buy.

3.     Buy dirt. And a pot.

4.     Pot a plant.

I made a minor discovery, more like a shift in articulation, while waiting in line to drop off the e-waste. Bear was really into the OcculusRift (a virtual reality [VR] addition to gaming systems) display and was watching it with rapt attention. She said she wanted to play the games and went through which games she would like most. She which game I’d like most and I just internally went “playing/doing/being in VR would be my own personal hell.” This thought surprised me so I very quickly had to satiate the little lawyer with a wimpy answer of  “Aunty Sara doesn’t like this kind of game.” As is the nature of tiny lawyer children, she naturally followed it with “But why!” I shrugged it off but it has been simmering in the back of my brain.

Later in the week a friend’s housemate came out from playing what looked to be a very good workout with a VR setup. He was describing the merits of such a system. It finally clicked for me.

“That sounds really cool but unfortunately I don’t think I’ll also be able to enjoy this gaming platform. I really struggle with dissociation and I don’t feel comfortable inducing a state like that without a concrete path out.” I have never been able to articulate (or even consider than anyone else experienced) dissociation, specifically as it relates to depression. PartnerPenguin helped me find this article that validates my concerns.

Ok, I think I’m about done for now. Thanks for following along this week!

I feel like this song “Secrets” by Mary Lambert feels just right tonight. And for the love of Glob if someone knows where to get her dress, please tell me. I would look SUPER cute in it.