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?