Stand up eight

I think back to 2013, as I made my plans to head back to school and decided getting my master's wouldn't be too difficult. Closing up my computer for the night, I have to chuckle. For the past 10 or 11 months, I've been slowly deteriorating. There's a great Japanese proverb:

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

And I try. I've been getting knocked down my entire life, and eventually you just get used to getting back up. It becomes habit. 

Last weekend I worked 12 hours on Saturday and 8 on Sunday to get my thesis done and turned in to my advisor. Let me backtrack. Over the summer I had an emotional collapse. Too much pressure over too much time. I reached out and got help and am slowly trying to pull myself together, or at least keep from drowning. On Wednesday I graduated from anxiety coping skills school. At least I graduated from something. 

Back to last weekend. I was exhausted. I converted my thesis document to PDF and sent them both over to my advisor, 20 minutes before bedtime on Sunday night. As I scrolled through the PDF document, a feeling of calm passed over me like I hadn't felt in at least 6 months (medications excluded). I sent the email, got up from my desk, and began getting ready for bed. I started thinking about how on Monday after work, I could just come home and relax, instead of my usual routine of picking up my thesis and beginning work again. It was a soothing thought. My phone signaled a text message. It was my advisor. 

"Can you chat?"

I looked at the time. No. No I cannot chat. It's nearly 7:30 pm and I have to be up at 3:45 am to prepare the weather briefing. 

"Yep."

 I started to prepare the coffee pot while he skimmed my thesis and listed things that needed to be changed. Then he started adding more data analysis and more writing, and more papers, and more plots. An hour later I was barely able to mutter "Ok" to each of his demands. I felt myself slipping underwater. I didn't even struggle. (Turns out in the distraction I also neglected to put coffee grounds in the coffee maker.)

I hung up the phone and slowly sat down at my desk, and stared at the screen. Then promptly lost my shit. 

It's now been 5 days and it's been tough getting back up from that one. Maybe I'm halfway up. I feel like I'm dragging a 200 lb weight around. With no end in sight. I've learned something from all of those "light at the end of the tunnel" speeches. It's the same thing I learned when I was on a hotshot crew hiking to the top of the mountain. Every peak before the last one was a false peak. It looked like you were reaching the top because you could only see sky beyond the hill.... until you crested the hill and it was just a step leading to a steeper hill. And so on. The light is an illusion. Sometimes I say it's from an oncoming train. In any case, it's not really there. Throughout my career as a grad student, I have seen that light at the end of the tunnel at least a dozen times- then quickly everything goes black. At this point, an oncoming train would be a blessing. 

So. I'm getting back up. I think. I don't know exactly why, although self-preservation rings a bell.