Roots Before Branches:

My weekly escape from all things grad school is Glee.  I don't care if this makes me silly or if others don't like it, but I love the musical arrangements and have enjoyed the story-lines (mostly).  The finale this week actually moved me and I think that's because it managed to capture the emotions I felt leaving high school, and then Louisville.  The performance below is melodramatic, but authentic.  When you leave home, your friends, and your love it is just like this: you rip your heart out and then find a way to put it back together.  



Even when I'm homesick or tired, I'm still grateful for this opportunity to establish my own roots before branches.

All my love,
Elizabeth

An Illustration of my Mind:

Oh Grad School, you fiend. I've actually had a productive day today, but that's not to say that the above doesn't resonate with me. It does, and often. But today I've written a section I'm happy with, returned library books on time, kept up with the errands I needed to run (I have shampoo, yay!), and painted my nails peachy/orange. I'm painting my nails every week now. It makes me happy and I'm getting pretty good and quick at it. Transferable skills? Maybe not, but at least if I ever have a daughter I can totally make her nails look pretty. Ok, back to productivity! Well, dinner first, and then productivity.

Love y'all,
Elizabeth

Through the Looking Glass:

I've got to be honest. I've been down a lot recently. I can't explain why other than the usual "grad school is hard" and "I'm homesick" lines that constantly permeate my existence. But that's not really it. I feel like something inside is missing, like it's withered and grown cold. I feel empty. I feel like Alice, caught up in the insanity of an environment completely foreign and often cruel. (Carroll was right, everyone in Oxford is mad.)

I don't write this to worry anyone. I write this for me. Because despite how I feel, my rational brain knows better. I know I am loved. I know I am smart. I know I can do all I put my mind to. It's the separation between rationality and feeling which is so discouraging. The disparity manifests itself in a very physical way and I can't breathe, or sleep, or smile. And then I think, "This is NOT me!". But it is, in a way. I am everything. I am good, I am scared, I am free, I am tied down, I am loud, I am hidden...I am. And when I just am, well, then it's not so bad. Because in that space of "being" I find much more to myself than I knew I had. Many more resources, many more strengths. I can be greater than my DPhil. I can be with my family, friends, and love even when I'm away from them. And I can be strong because I am strong!

Ultimately it's all about perception and perspective. If I frame my struggles with others I feel worse, but if I place them in my own control they can be empowering. I've found a lot of comfort lately with quotations from my childhood (see above and below) and I wonder why I feel silly for connecting with these texts as an adult. Often the whimsy and life within them are more powerful than anything written for a "grown-up" audience. Self-help books be damned: affirmations don't work and neither to discussions about my feelings. It's about my mindset and a strength of will: a determination to move forward despite the difficulty, in the face of the fear, and with a calm assurance that everything will be ok. I have all I need to succeed in the ways that matter most to me. I want to be a good person, a loving person, a person who cultivates and spreads joy. The rest, really, is just icing on the cake. Don't get me wrong, I love icing. But I prefer plain brownies. So when it gets tough, I breathe. Even when I feel I can't, I breathe. And then I re-read the words that provided me so much comfort as I grew into the person I am today. They are relevant because I am still growing. And I don't ever want to stop growing.

I've got all I need within. Now I must keep myself climbing this mountain. It's going to feel great once I start running down the other side. Woosh!!!!! All my love, Elizabeth

Oxford in 1941:

Just goes to show that not much changes in Oxford. All my love, Elizabeth