A Scattering of Thoughts

  • “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch”: An Accidental Unwinding

    A Response to College and Research Libraries (C&RL) New’s latest post, “Librarians and Degree Seeking: The “Paper Ceiling” and Advancement in Academic Libraries”, a conversation between Nancy Shore, Kristina Clement, and Katherine Rose Adams

    During my last session, my therapist suggested I write a response, my own little Op-Ed, to the conversation circulated earlier this month. Not necessarily to publish or share with anyone. Writing is one (of the few ways) that significantly helps me process, reflect, and attempt to understand emotions, accounts, triggers, and encounters I struggle to verbalize. My therapist felt this practice may help me work through my intensely trauma response to the “Librarians and Degree Seeking” post which I read the morning of June 10th.

    A link to this post dropped into my Outlook while I sat in my very college town feel coffee shop and edited my summer course. I made it through the first exchange between the three authors. I could not keep reading. I felt numb, and, then quickly, I dissociated. Fully plunged back into experiences from my doctoral program. I spent my therapy session (thankfully) the next day unpacking how I relived my doctoral years so vividly and excruciatingly – all through that Monday, into the sleepless night, and bursting into Tuesday’s session. I did not (still do not) understand what these academics could discuss so brightly, enthusiastically, and almost flippantly what, in so many ways, shattered me.

    My doctoral experience appears distinctly different from those of the authors. I pursued a PhD because of the focus on deep research, writing, my need to feel as though I am contributing to something, and the lifelong pressing expectation for me to excel. I only worked in academic libraries, briefly, as an intern during my MLIS program. I had no interest (still have no interest at all) in ‘climbing the ladder’, becoming a dean, taking on any fully administrative position. Those roles would only take me away from the research, writing, and teaching thrive on. I am going up for tenure this fall, but even with that I took a year extension due my lengthy recovery from COVID.

    My actual degree, the nitty-gritties of my PhD program, and my relationship with doctoral life sharply differ from the EdD, asynchronous program the authors worked through. I left public librarianship to become a full time, funded PhD student in an information school at a large university from August 2012 until April 2016. I relocated to be near the university. I worked 20+ hours weekly for my teaching assistant, then a research assistantship, and, finally, lead instructor stipend. I spent my first two years of the program taking in-person seminar courses. I read and discussed and learned and engaged in research with faculty and independently. A very traditional PhD route. Not accessible to everyone. My lack of a partner or kids. My supportive family, the financial support through my doctoral program (Well. For the most part.) are privileges I fully recognize. I am often asked (not sure why) if I would do the PhD program over again. My answer is the same as when I graduated in 2016. A long pause, weighty inhale and exhale, and “I don’t know.”

    There are a number of specific quotes from the authors that did not anger me as much undid what had, while not exactly healed, been decently processed. I will highlight a few to shake them from my own rumination. Or attempt to do so.

    I knew graduate school at this level would be a lot of work, but I didn’t want doctoral studies to take up all my time.” ~ Nancy Shore

    The author. Art Institute of Chicago. Mid-PhD program.

    The doctoral program became my entire life. Academia and our mentors, not just the doctoral program, encouraged us to never stop working. I wrote and graded and read and took notes and coded nights, weekends, and holidays. Switching work off felt like a failure. If you aren’t working, thinking about work, or explaining apologetically what has taken you away from work, shouldn’t you be? I identified as a doctoral student, a doctoral candidate, and, eventually, an official Doctor, wearing regalia and freshly hooded at graduation that sweltering spring in 2016. A post-doctoral and tenure-track faculty position later yet I cannot stop the impulse to fill every hour of the waking day with a task that will get me closer to something. A grant proposal, an almost finished manuscript, a service opportunity that will look good as a line on my CV, whatever will show that I am worth something to an institution that does not feel or care or remember you.

    My theory is that if you’re going to get a “free” degree, it might as well be a big one!” ~ Nancy Shore

    I’m a blue collar, trailer park, scrappy kid from Southwest Georgia. The quote, “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”, is very familiar to me. It’s almost laughable to think otherwise. You will pay in one way or the other. Maybe those from middle class and upper middle-class backgrounds believe in “free”, but I know better. I exchanged my sanity, any sense of self-worth I once possessed, and my physical health for my PhD. I reverted to unhealthy habits I learned as an undergrad to feel some ounce of control amidst the constant criticism, ableism, classism, sexual harassment, victim blaming, self-loathing, and fear. I graduated from the program numb, broken, and so very, very bitter. I gave everything I could. I received that fucking piece of paper in the mail, and I still felt like a failure. It is still in that envelope, next to other paperwork in my hallway closet.

    “Wait . . . maybe we should end our discussion here as I do not want to create any more competition!”~ Katherine Rose Adams

    Create any more competition? The competition is always present. I wrote about it in this very column last September with a former MLIS student and dear friend. I am not a competitive person, but the system will push you to engage in a battle for funding, recognition, tenure, or, the ever so rare, praise. Who you are competing against does not matter as much as how much you push yourself. You compete with yourself, other doctoral students, colleagues, others in your area of expertise, et al. Give me a minute, and I can spot competition, perhaps slyly concealed as a collegial discussion or constructive ‘feedback’.

    This is not intended to be combative, critical, or dismissive. This is just for me. To get out of my head and feel real. Somehow I felt that my doctoral program experience was discounted. Was it all in my head? Despite conducted research with LIS PhD students on their experiences (bleak), and all the (anecdotal) conversations I’ve had over the years with dear friends who shared similar experiences at other institutions. Still, I questioned myself and judged my sense of reality, even in my therapy session, “Did all that actually happen to me? Why does this post dig into me so uniquely and excruciatingly?”. Again, I don’t know. But I keep trying to find a new way through the wreckage.

    Abigail L. Phillips, MLIS, SLIS, PhD

    Shore, N., Clement, K., & Adams, K. (June 2024). Librarians and degree seeking: The “Paper Ceiling” and advancement in academic libraries. College & Research Libraries News, 85(6), 263. doi:https://doi.org/10.5860/crln.85.6.263

    The saying, “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch”, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”, or the initialism TANSTAAFL is attributed to Robert A. Heinlein’s sci-fi novel “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress“. I read that book in high school, but I remember hearing this quote randomly, outside of reading. It has been used by others including economists. Naturally. TIL.

  • What to Expect When You Expect Too Much

    I try not to assume that the world is talking about me, let alone whatever room I walk into. But I do. More recently. I don’t know if this is a product of my (multiple) mental illnesses, a new mental illness, or a normal human conundrum. People, in my mind, never say kind and uplifting things about me. Hell, even mind numbingly boring. It is always negative or critical. This is my internal debate. And I don’t know why I care so much or why it hurts me to my core.

    It seems arrogant. Why would you be the focus of attention? “Why do you, of everyone else, matter?” I mutter silently to myself. “People have their own lives, at best, or are self absorbed, at worst.”

    But I work in an industry, being academia, that seems to thrive on appearances. Publications numbers and citation counts are regularly asked during annual evaluations and certainly the tenure track process. Colleagues appear to almost supernaturally known what to say during committee meetings where I stumble at best. One colleague is asked to be the speaking head on a local news channel, because they are an expert in some obscure field that relates to a hot-this-moment story. Representation of your university, school, and college is critical. You are your institution.

    Logically, I know that I’ve push myself to some sort of limit work-wise. I have cut back on outside work – i.e. the work that isn’t academic or the work that won’t get me tenure. Recently, I’ve dedicated myself to focusing on the work stylings I knew as a PhD student. None of which were healthy. Much of which helped me end up in ER for suicidal ideation, depression, and panic disorder two weeks before my dissertation defense.

    Despite all this, I continue to strive for some sort of ‘laudable’ goal. It may not be achievable. It’s enviable to many (I’ve heard), but I’ve seen so many suffer so much as a result of the hunt for this prize.

    I started writing this brief post, because I felt inexplicably that the world was criticizing me. By that I mean academically, appearance-wise, my every day humanness, my writing, and/or whatever it means to be me. I know (or partially know) that this feeling may come from my non-stop and relentless criticism of myself. I do not entirely know. But it has lead me to more complex thoughts. Particularly regarding academia and my fledgling lifeline in it. But what else am I good at? I’ve spent over a decade in this bubble of higher education. I know the joys and the sorrows of a life lived within it (if I can steal a phrase from somewhere). I don’t want to give it up. I just want to survive it.

    the interior of a dark bookstore with a man walking down the middle of a hallway

    Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/30/opinion/dark-academia-halloween.html

  • Why, no. I am not exactly resilient. That word is weird/conflicted. I’ll survive anyway.

    I’ve seen the words ‘resilient’, ‘resilience’, and ‘resiliency’ pop up again and again in conference presentations, scholarly papers, speeches, book titles, and within my professional community and others. It has become a highly praised attribute in the work force. From librarians (right now, during the pandemic) to students deal with also pandemic but also school stressors and anxieties. We are resilient or encouraged to be. To “bounce back” with speed. To work past it quickly and efficiently. Well, I can’t do that.

    Recovering from a trauma situation is a long process. In my experience anyway, but the words and phrases “quickly” and sayings “bounce back” and “suck it up” are repeated so often in what feels like almost every conceivable avenue. I keep wondering, why? Why isn’t recovery, growth, failure, and struggle also acknowledged and praised as strongly? Most importantly the last two.

    I couldn’t resist a bouncy castle/house image in this post. Courtesy of KXXV 25 News.

    I have never thought of myself as resilient especially now that I know what the expectations of “resiliency” actually are. I went to dictionaries. I love a definition. From Oxford English Dictionary (OED), resilient is “(adj.)….tending to recover quickly or easily from misfortune, shock, illness, or the like; buoyant, irrepressible; adaptable, robust, hardy..” (para. 3). Merriam Webster (2020, para. 1) (adj.)…describes the word similarly, “capable of withstanding shock without permanent deformation or ruptur; tending to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change”.

    I don’t know what to say about those definitions in general, but they are not me or anything I am capable doing of today or ever in recent memory. The resilient brings to mind someone strong. Someone who doesn’t take the often just plain awfulness of life too seriously. Someone who moves through life in stride. Maybe a bump or two, but gets back up and gets going.

    I do not believe that I am a ‘resilient person’ as I’ve read so often. Or I don’t think I am judging by the definitions and what has been written about resiliency (Scott, 2020). The School of Continuing Education in the university where I work is hosting an “Emotional Resiliency in Uncertain Times” workshop. (As a side note, I feel like most of my time is uncertain. Today, tomorrow, and on are more than a bit mysterious, as far as WTF I will feel or think or worry or cry about.). When I first read about this workshop, my gut instinct erupted as a question: “what’s wrong with being emotional when the world is on fire and dramatically spiraling downward or at least uncertain?” Answer: nothing.

    I’m still trying to understand the different terminology when it comes to resilience/resilient/resiliency. Each means something slightly different for the individual or at least from what I understand from the marginally varying definitions. For some reason, the word ‘resilient’ almost feels like a slap in the face, usually because the words “be” or ” I am” often come before it. The mildly aggressive attitude that I feel radiate from these statements does nothing to shake my unease with this label.

    Courtesy of Center for Creative Leadership

    I worked on this blog post for several weeks sporadically between other projects. I didn’t know how or when to end it. But then I found this image, and I thought, “I can do this.”. I’m sure that this graphic rings much truer for others than it does for me. But nothing about it does for me.

    The most striking is Number Three: find a substitute for sleep. As someone who has suffered from chronic insomnia as long as I can remember, there is no substitute for sleep. If I knew a substitute for sleep, I would have found it over 20 years ago. Who knew it had SO MUCH to do which resilience. Further evidence of my constant struggle with resilience. It’s just not wired into my brain because sleep. Also, positive thinking irritates the fuck out of me. This post now sounds more about what irritates me than actual substance, but at least I acknowledge that.

    Thank you and take care, my friend.

    References

    N.A. (2012). Building your resilience. American Psychological Association. https://www.apa.org/topics/resilience.

    N.A. (2020). Resilient, adjective. Merriam Webster Dictionary. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/resilient.

    OED Online. (2020). Resilient, adj. and n. Oxford University Press. https://www-oed-com.ezproxy.lib.uwm.edu/view/Entry/163621?redirectedFrom=resilient&

    Scott, E. 28 April 2020. Why emotional resilience Is a trait you can develop. Verywell Mind. https://www.verywellmind.com/emotional-resilience-is-a-trait-you-can-develop-3145235.

  • How being bluntly honesty about myself is wonderful, painful, beautiful, impressive, & awkward. A #LISMentalHealth Week post

    I’m bluntly honest about myself. I’m old enough to feel comfortable being this honest. Maybe that’s the actual reason. Or maybe I’m strong enough to reject/ignore whatever judgements or assumptions others have about me. (Most of the time.) What you think of me has nothing to do with who I really am: a white trash, trailer park kid from Southwest Georgia who somehow ended up okay and has achieved some fantastic things. I’ve already said everything about myself that I INTENSELY hid for so long.

    But I don’t know what else to do beside be open. In person and online. I recently told a checkout clerk that something in the grocery store that made me intensely anxious. They stared at me blankly, but it was my honest response to, “How are you doing?”. I’m tired of saying, “Fine.” or “Not bad”. I know these are things we say to one another out of habit, a social norm, and general politeness. But fuck that. Lying about how I’m doing feels weird and dishonest to myself. Anyway, I feel weird enough without a lie.

    On the other hand (or something), I don’t really have an interest in radical honesty. But for some reason it’s oddly fascinating to me. Maybe because it feels partially connected to the honesty I value about myself. Others have taken radical honesty on. I’ve seen it shared on YouTube, tweets, websites, and in books. I think being honest about myself is more than enough (much, much more). Maybe everything for me will go down in magnificent flames as a result, or I’ll classically burn out rather than fade away. Or I’ll nap. And then keep going?

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