Montreal Bound

This week has really focused on preparation for my poster submission for the Society for Research on Child Development conference this week later in Montreal. It's been an interesting process to prepare a document that large (36" x 56") and I am not entirely happy with it. There are a couple of typos and the spacing looks weird. Did I mention that I am not overly happy with it? I worked on it a bit this morning and have grappled whether or not to have it reprinted. It wasn't horribly expensive, but it wasn't exactly dirt cheap, either. In any case, it appears that the poster will be presented as is....typos and all. My favorite typo? The word that is supposed to read "assume," but instead reads "assme." Rock on.

Necessary selfishness...

This is my fourth year having a go at this PhD thing. It's been a long, arduous, intense process that is hard to understand unless you've been there. It requires a high level of selfishness, being able to say no when you'd really like to say yes, spending hours and hours in front of the computer, carrying research articles in your purse that doubles as a book bag, and a constant background hum of your research design in the back of your mind. Even when engaging in the most mundane task like washing dishes - I find myself thinking about the difference between an exploratory factor analysis and a confirmatory factor analysis. Am I really considering a mixed methods approach, which is two dissertation studies in one, doubling the time it takes to analyze and report? Do I have the patience to code interviews, focus groups, observations? Do I know how to adequately clean data and run theoretically and statistically sound tests to analyze data? I don't know.

But what I do know is this: I am too far in to back out now. Someone asked me one day how many credits I've completed. The Warner School's PhD program in Human Development requires 90 credits, including transferred masters credits and dissertation work. I've currently completed 113 credits (including my masters credits) and will have completed 120 by the end of the semester. I am finishing the third of three comprehensive exams and will next write my proposal. IF I finish the proposal by the end of this semester I am on track to graduate in May 2012. That's right. One more year, bringing the grand total to FIVE YEARS. There are some people who take eleven, or seven, or never.

Not me. I am all in.

Research really is "me" search.

My 12-year old self showed up this morning. Unexpectedly. Seemingly out of the blue. I know she's been there a long time just waiting for the right moment to come back to me. And I've welcomed her, even though she's brought a flood of emotions back to me.

On the outside I am told that I convey confidence, strength, wisdom, intelligence, competence. On the inside? Well, that's an entirely different story. On the inside I am insecure, scared, unsure of myself, of my feelings, of my future. I understand my past all too well and now I know that I am understanding my future, too.

You see, I am a relationship sabotager. Actually, I am a self-sabotager. If there is something unhealthy about a relationship, I'm all in. If the man is unavailable, arrogant, psychologically dismissive and distant I'm there. I'm there. Why?

Without sounding too cheesy, I've had a serious "a ha!" moment. If you are reading this blog you probably already know that I am working on a Ph.D. in human development. There are a million directions one can go with topics concerning the life span and how an individual becomes who they are throughout the processes in their life. Me? I've chosen adolescent romantic relationships. What I thought was just an interest is actually my life history. MY life story. I've tried to ignore this fact for a really, reeeeally long time.

Wham. Too late.

Here goes...

When I was 11 or 12 I got my first "boyfriend." He was considerably older and I was new to my school. Just entering the seventh grade, my family had moved from our hometown in Pennsylvania to a small town in New York just outside of Ithaca. I was struggling to make new friends and fit into the new school and did so pretty well. He was popular in an odd kind of way, far less ambitious or academically motivated than myself, but I was new and I thought I'd give it a try.

Once I got in I couldn't get out.

At 12 years old I was in an abusive relationship, unable to move away from the control, the possessiveness, the anger that came along with it. I tried. Believe me. I tried. I played sports. I went to friend's houses. I lied. I tried to get away, but he had a strong hold; physically, mentally, socially.

And then in eighth grade I told my school guidance counselor/volleyball coach. I trusted her. She let me down. "Don't you think you're making a bigger deal out of this than it is?" she said. And I stuffed it down for another year and a half. And then I stuffed it down until I went to college. And I kept stuffing it down until there wasn't any part of me that wasn't full of it.

Long story short and sparing many, many details it's had a lasting impact on my life, on my family, on my relationships, on my psyche on every last little part of me. The pain and confusion and lack of understanding of myself and my world has brought me to this point in my life. I realize now that my research is my own search for an understanding of my self.

And so here I sit with my 12-year old self next to me; encouraging me to speak now what I couldn't speak then. To say now what wasn't heard then. To write now what wouldn't have been read then.

And to the "boyfriend"? If you are reading this (and you know who you are) you fucked up my life. YOU FUCKED UP MY LIFE. You and your selfish, insecure, pitiful self FUCKED UP MY LIFE, but I am a fighter and a writer and a bitch and you will not win. Me and Karma are coming for you.

This will not beat me. My 12-year old self will not feel small and insecure any more.

It's game time and it's on.