And then there’s frustration.  I think in general, I am frustrated.  I’m an achiever and, by nature, achievers are frustrated because there’s never any winning.  Nothing is ever enough.  There’s always more to do; more to do better; and then there’s “the best” to work into the plan.  I literally never rest.  If I could have it another way, I would but I’m at a point at which I don’t believe in my heart of hearts this is learned behavior.  I didn’t ask for this or was taught this; I was hard-wired for it. (And I hate biological arguments for anything, so imagine the frustration I feel even saying that let alone believing in my hard-wiring…but I do.)

And thus, I feel frustration at every turn.  Like that cozy leaden security blanket, always weighing me down, always making me sweatier than I want to be beneath it.  Always hindering my movements.  My breathing has become shallow.  It’s been like a 30 year dental X-ray scenario…I’m tired, people.  I’m tired.

Even more so, this dissertation is an exercise in frustration.  Just at the moment I get rolling,  I can feel movement–wind in my hair, my cheeks reddening with the cool breeze–something comes crashing down.  And that never stops.  I had finally made contact with an elusive group of people, had gotten a few interviews in and started building my network and what happened?  The f*&#$ing Chicago Teachers’ Strike.  [Commence grinding to a halt].

So now I’m starting over. Again. For the 40th time since just my dissertation research started.  I know the drill well…but it’s becoming boring.  I need to sail different seas.  I need new problems.  I need a different view.  And at every other time and facet of my life, I have the freedom to go and find them.  To start over. Get rolling again.  Except this one.  I am stuck here.  To wait and fret and move mountains to make this happen.  And all for why?

Because I want it.  And I always get what I want when it’s within my power to make it happen.

Anyone know how to conjure the wind?

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