It's Tuesday, And I Should Still Be Writing... Something Else

I'm still struggling to write and work on my dissertation proposal. There isn't one single reason why though. Part of it is the oppressive heat and humidity. Unless I'm doing something that gives me a joy that's filled with a sense of wonder, such as hiking (especially if there's a waterfall!), the heat is just too much.

I'm even willing to wake up early to avoid the worst of the heat and humidity of the day... which still means hiking when it's hot and humid. It's just not as bad as if we waited until the afternoon. Bonus: there are fewer people on the trails in the AM.

My depression and anxiety don't help the writing situation either. Some of that is my brain telling me I'm not that good at anything; some it is my brain telling me not to care about anything, even the things I legitimately care for quite a lot; and, although there's much more, some of it is my brain freaking out because there's so much information I can't figure out how to organize it so I can actually write. It doesn't help that when I feel super trapped by it all I can't enjoy stepping outside to look at my garden because it's so fucking hot and humid.

The latter two bits are why I'm REALLY having a hard time right now.

I've devised a few plans. Some I've had to throw out because I don't have a big enough table--just laying out all the books and articles on a giant table would be the best! But I can't. No table. I also have two cats that would sit on everything, mess it all up.

I've narrowed it down to two methods:

1. Use my various colorful flag Post-its to create a color coded system. Each color would point me to a specific area (in this case an area of critical pedagogy because that's the section I'm on).

2. Creating some columns, likely just handwritten, for each area. I'd then mark down which book or article and the page number of the information I need.

Although the second seems more tedious, I'm leaning towards it because sometimes you run out of Post-its, and I don't want to make things more confusing because I don't have anymore blue Post-it flags.

And, NO, I'm going out to buy more in this heat and humidity! Plus, that would just tempt me to stop and buy a fountain Mr. Pibb, and I've been doing so well at only drinking it if I'm at certain restaurants (Note: I drink soda during holidays like Christmas because it's often the only source of caffeine available to my body that doesn't make it hurt).
 

I Should Be Writing... Something Else

I've started this post, deleted it, started it again, put it in draft mode, started it again, put it in draft mode more times than I can count. I initially stopped blogging because I went back to school to work on a PhD. I briefly returned when Maggie was sick as well as when I discovered I needed surgery on my right hip (honestly I think I let it trail off before I went back to school because Maggie died before I started my first semester back... but time is a blur...). I probably intended to keep up the writing, but I imagine the stress of working on and passing comprehensive exams, having surgery during winter break, recovering from surgery during break and while back in school--full time with an assistantship--made me forget. This would be rather on brand for my brain. Regardless, I never got back to it.

But during the last year or so the idea of returning to it seemed like a good idea. I wanted to write about my difficulties and their effects on my work. Some unidentifiable feeling kept stopping me from ever completing a post. But today I got the urge to write about it again. I nearly stopped before I ever completed a sentence. But.

But I've been having a ridiculously tough time. Working on a PhD while completely healthy, with no outside personal stressors is a difficult task to undertake. Throw in all my health issues, including a likely diagnosis of EIB I learned about today, and multiple personal issues that sometimes feel insurmountable... well, it feels like my own personal Mount Everest.

And it's the side that nearly anyone can get a permit to climb because like the pictures we've seen on the news, my climb is fucking overcrowded, not with people but with thoughts and sometimes pain and even more thoughts. This is, at least in part, why I regularly attend counseling.

Still, I nearly didn't finish a single sentence. But I wanted to write something even if it had virtually nothing to do with my dissertation proposal. My chair says writing even just a little bit is useful too. So I figure even if this isn't about my work, my brain is still being forced to string thoughts together in a meaningful way.

I don't know where my return to blogging will go, especially considering the landscape of it has changed vastly since I first began. But today I envision posts about my depression, why it makes this path so tough, and why I continue on despite the asshole in my brain telling me I suck. I envision posts about my hobbies and the way they help me. I envision something that almost no one will read but may make the one person who does read it feel better, maybe even feel seen or less alone.

These Hips Don't Lie

I have so much to be thankful for in my life. In fact, today Jeff surprised me with coffee.

I'm also thankful for my mom-- I called her today, trying to hold back my tears. I was doing a decent job, but she knew something was wrong. All I said was "Hi." She responded, "What's wrong?" She's really good.

I have so many other things to be thankful for, but today the reality of the situation with my right hip set in.

Nearly three years ago I was scared. I had to have major surgery.

My surgeon performed a periacetabular osteotomy as well as an arthroscopic procedure to repair a torn labrum. My left hip was dysplastic, and the deformity tore my labrum, a ring of cartilage in the hip joint. After months of recovery I eventually got back to normal (a year later I had the screws removed). Jeff and I even went to Oregon and hiked some of the most amazing, difficult, and more gorgeous than words can describe trails I've hiked in my life.

Gorton Creek Falls. 

Oneonta Gorge Trail.

It requires climbing over a log jam, and hiking through a creek bed to get to the waterfall. The water in the creek bed can get chest high depending on the season. It was above my waist at certain points and very cold! But it was well worth it.  

 

Triple Falls... I don't know the name of this trail because it was not the trail we meant to hike that day. But we kept going and found what is called Triple Falls.

But everything changed this February.

I thought my life was "normal." I had plans--my PhD work, a conference later that spring, papers to publish, trails to hike in the summer, and books to read in preparation for comprehensive exams in the fall. But then I felt it. I was walking around Campus Lake with a professor--I took a readings course with her, and rather than sit in her office to discuss my readings we walked around the lake once a week. One moment I was telling her about Doctor Who and various theories. The next I was rambling on, trying to hide my pain, and thinking "Oh shit. Why is this pain in my right hip? Oh shit. This can't be happening."

But it was happening. I had to scale back my plans, focus on course work only. Between my assistantship and the daily grind of graduate school course work I knew I couldn't take on the extras I wanted to, needed to. I didn't have an official diagnosis--my surgeon is one of the few in the country that does certain procedures (such as the periacetabular osteotomy and the labral repair) so I had to wait more than a month to see him. But I knew the pain. I knew I'd torn my right labrum. After going through the non-surgical routes, getting an MRA to confirm what we all knew-- I'd torn my right labrum-- I was told surgery was the next option.

I need arthroscopic surgery to fix the torn labrum. My surgeon will also perform an osteoplastly-- essentially he'll shave my femur so it is shaped how it should actually be shaped. Part of my femur is too flat (the arrow... that part should look more like the circled part), and the deformation likely caused the labrum to tear. The deformation has fancy names, but its often times referred to as an impingement.

There's only an 80% chance I'll fully recover. I'm also at risk for osteoarthritis. I knew this as it's true for my other hip. I'm nearly certain my other surgery carried the same 80% chance of recovery. I just don't remember because it was nearly three years ago, it was completely successful other than it just feels weird to lay on it sometimes, and when I got the news I started balling so I didn't absorb the information fully. Although this procedure is less invasive, it still requires more recovery time than one might expect. But that isn't what hit me today. It was the 80% percent. Or maybe it was the 20%. Regardless, the notion that I might not fully recover... well, it sucks. I realize it could be worse, far worse. And yet...

Indeed it does suck. Will I be able to hike all the trails on my bucket list? Will I be able to find a new comfortable sleeping position? Will the NSAID Dr. Clohisy prescribed help me sleep well enough so I can get through comprehensive exams this fall? I already have depression, anxiety, and fibromyalgia. These are things almost no one talks about in academia. So what does it mean now that I am adding my mess of a right hip into the mix? I can't afford to not attend conferences for another year. If I were rich I'd consider taking a leave of absence. But I'm not rich. I'd also get really bored and my brain would end up torturing me. Boredom is not good for my brain. I already struggle with the lack of structure that summer brings. All of this and more has and continues to cross my mind. But I know I will persist. I will persevere. I don't have a choice. Plus, it's all I really know how to do. I haven't had a terrible life, but I've met my fair share of obstacles. Some I've conquered, and some I'm in the midst of conquering. What's one more?