I didn’t want to write about this but it’s the only thing that’s flowing at the moment, and I suppose it might be handy to explain why that is. I’m having difficulty writing anything at all at the moment because, perhaps, the thesis-writing process, for me, was not enjoyable. Now writing has become a chore, something always written for someone else and never for my own pleasure. Any part of writing in my thesis that I enjoyed writing (usually those passages where I was describing landscapes, people, situations, etc.) ended up being cut out in the final draft, and although I went into Honours knowing that this could be the case, it has taken an unexpected toll on my psyche. Even the very words I’m writing now are being wrung from me counter-intuitively.

For me, the joy of writing is in its capacity to express some deep-seated understanding of something that I think would be useful for others to read. My Honours experience was not about that. My thesis was not imparting knowledge that I deeply understood, it was created to fulfill a selfish purpose (i.e. a stellar mark) rather than a society-based purpose (i.e. contributing something that made organic sense and could be useful). As a result, I handed in a thesis that I wasn’t proud of, and as such, felt no sense of achievement.

The evening after I handed in my final assignment I remember waking in a cold sweat at 3am, afraid that that very assignment was still not finished and three days late (I handed it in three days early).

I pushed myself past the point of exhaustion. Now I am unable to form full-length sentences anymore, let alone structure narratives of any complexity (case in point: this. I apologise). I have lost patience and the capacity to be present in any given moment. I’m also still constantly on edge that I’m not doing enough writing and this expectation has completely paralysed me, rendering me incapable of proceeding with any of the writing work that I need to be doing.

All of this unfolded insidiously throughout the year. I went into honours as a relatively aware, articulate person and have come out the other end completely disconnected from myself and others, and with deflated confidence, despite achieving a fairly stellar mark. What is possibly the worst part about my situation is that I’m straight back into writing a book chapter for publication. On the outside this is an incredible opportunity to publish something in case I want to apply to do another postgrad-by-research course, but internally I am wearier than ever and need to do a truckload of kayaking through the countryside in order to recover.

*My intentions for posting this is two fold: 1. mostly to warn those wishing to pursue a research-based thesis: remember to breath, to never prioritise a thesis above connection with others, and especially not above your own health, and 2. to clear the air for my own sake so that I could get back into writing without fear. This is not a cry for help, as I have a history of far worse mental illness from which I have developed coping mechanisms that I will implement over time.