The week my PhD got hard

This is the week that my PhD got hard. For the past 14 months things have been lots of fun. I have felt confident and relaxed. While some difficulties have emerged I’ve been able to deal with them effectively and with relative ease. Until this week.

On Thursday or Friday last week I discovered that my results did not fit my model as I had expected. This was a blow. Theory that is not empirically supported can be hard to remain valid. But that was just the start. Monday was a rough day. Other than a 70 km ride before uni nothing in particular occurred, but I simply wasn’t doing too well. I didn’t teach particularly well, I accomplished very little, and generally felt lousy. Things disintegrated when I got home and the entire family suffered a fairly miserable night. We have days like that sometimes. To finish the night the missionaries came to my home to teach my friend, Kane. It didn’t go well. He argued about doctrine for 60 minutes before we called it a night. I wonder how much my bad day affected the Spirit of the evening.

Tuesday morning I arrived at uni and saw an email from the journal I had sent my article to. They’ve been reviewing it for close to 6 weeks. My hopes were not high, but I was ill-prepared for the decimation my paper was subjected to by the reviewers. This was a humbling experience. Brutal stuff. A friend commented to me that being a journal reviewer seems to bring out the Pharisee in academics as they almost gleefully disparage another for his or her faults. I spent three or four hours wallowing in self-pity. I sat in disbelief as I pondered the waste of time and effort the past 14 months have been. It appeared I had squandered my PhD to that point. Eventually I picked myself up out of the (metaphorical) dirt, dusted myself off, and got back to work. I picked through the review and re-wrote the comments in plain speak so I could more fully understand the points made. I considered my options. Then I hung my head and realised why people raise their eyebrows when they hear I’m doing a PhD. It is much harder than I anticipated, and than I have experienced to date. Despite the bad news I still had to supervise my honours student and teach classes. A tough day – again.

Tuesday evening I arrived home late – just in time to leave for Young Men’s activities. We commenced building billy-carts with the boys. To buy all of the material was crazily expensive, but so far, so good. They are all really excited, and we’re hopeful this plans will lead to a positive outcome. There are still a couple of weeks of building to go.

On Tuesday Kylie went for a bike ride on the tandem with the blind man. She gets lots out of it, and it makes his day. I can’t imagine what life would be like for him, and what a thrill it must be to ride at 30-40 km/h on the back of a bike. Chanel and Abbie participated in their cross-country races at school too. Abbie didn’t run so well. Participating in a competition is not particularly meaningful for her at this point in her life. It only seems like hard work! Chanel put in a huge effort and ran 3rd in her race. Another couple of centimetres would have clinched 2nd place. All of the swimming and riding seems to be helping her fitness, and Chanel was suitably pleased.

Wednesday brought with it the promise of a fresh start. My only problem was that I still didn’t know what to do which made it hard to start my fresh start. I met with my supervisors for an emergency meeting. They were marginally helpful. However, despite their lack of clear opinions and guidance the meeting helped me to crystallise my plan of attack and by the end of the day I had a firm action plan: take the comments from the reviewers and turn them into a more clearly written article, resubmit it to a more carefully targeted journal, and frame the data that doesn’t fit my model in terms of a heavily applied focus that show the usefulness of the concept. I have direction and focus again! It felt good, although a little overwhelming.

Ella enjoyed her speech pathology appointment on Wednesday. Our little girl is developing remarkably well despite her initial difficulties. It is very hard to believe that 12 months ago nobody could understand her. Today Ella is confident, outspoken, and full of positive energy. She is better in control of her moods because she knows we can understand her.

Thursday saw me feeling a little better about life. I spent the morning on the bike and did another 75 km. It was the toughest training session I have ever done. Three minute maximal efforts followed by 5 minutes rest. By the end of it I was wrecked. I stayed out too long and had very little time to work at uni for the morning. Some good news was that I checked my pay packet. I’m doing so much (too much) teaching, but the way it is reflected in my pay made me feel good. It’s a shame I only earn that money for five fortnights before the teaching runs out. I could enjoy living on that. Instead we’ll save as much as we can.

On Thursday afternoon I had organised an excursion to the brand new gerontology mental health unit at the Wollongong hospital. I was not particularly looking forward to it, especially with so much work to do. However, I kept the commitment. It ended up being an unexpectedly stimulating hour. I left with a real desire to do as well as I can so that I can be accepted into the clinical psychology programme next year. I found it fascinating. Back at uni I tried to get on with my work but got bogged down with marking. As I finished the pile I was interrupted by a course coordinator who asked me to teach a lecture on Tuesday morning – with only two business days to write it from scratch. And I have huge commitments on both of those days. I said yes, and then raced out the door to get home so Kylie could go out to help someone clean house before going to a Relief Society activity.

Our 11th wedding anniversary was Friday. We barely saw one another in the morning as we dashed about with work to be done. I was at uni early and taught my classes. I spent the afternoon preparing my lecture. I had to leave very early though as Kylie was going on a Relief Society camp – that’s right – on our anniversary! I arrived home and Kylie raced out the door. Abbie had come home from school after being sick all over the path in the schoolyard. Ella was complaining about being sick. Chanel had to get to bike bight at the velodrome. Annie was grizzly.

I bought Chickos for Chanel. I gave Abbie and Ella a movie to watch. Annie ate dinner and went to bed. Chanel’s coach and family took Chanel to the velodrome. I cooked Thai. Yum. I missed my wife, so I watched the football – two games of it. I also ate a couple of Cornettos and drank a 750ml ginger beer, plus I took care of a Turkish Delight. As enjoyable as it was, I still felt empty without Kylie being around.

When Kylie and I were engaged I recall a conversation we had about a song, “How do I live without you”. At the time I argued strongly against such neediness. I suggested that I never wanted to be so weak as to feel I could not live without someone. Instead I felt that my decision to be with someone was to be based solely on a choice due to my feeling positive with their presence. Over time I have learned a thing or two. I believe I was wrong. I believe that we are biologically and spiritually programmed to ‘need’ others in our lives; in a sense, to belong to someone. Doctrinally this is supported. God gave unto Adam an helpmeet, Eve. She was to be his companion. Paul taught that ‘neither is the man without the woman, nor the woman without the man in the Lord.” We are supposed to be together, our hearts sealed or fastened to one another’s. As I suffered with loneliness on my wedding anniversary I realised just how much Kylie’s companionship means to me. And I wondered how I could live without her. While I’m sure I could, I hope never to have to. (Kylie just glanced over my shoulder and asked me to make sure she doesn’t sound like a villain. She really had to go the camp or no one would have been there from Wollongong so it was for a good cause that she left me – on our anniversary!)

Chanel arrived home at 10.40pm Friday night. She had ridden as hard as she could and continues to improve on the track. And she was asleep within five seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

At 7.30am Saturday we were awoken by Annie. Chanel was picked up to go to Emily Robinson’s birthday party. They went to the horses for the morning and the beach for the afternoon. That made my day easier. I did an illegal but very controlled burn off of branches that have been littering my yard for over a year. Abbie and Ella played with Carly, one of Abbie’s school friends. I worked on the bikes. Then we dashed off to the chapel so we could do a little more work on the billy carts.

Kylie arrived home at around 5.30 utterly exhausted. She had little positive to say about the camp. The large Polynesian membership have a very different culture and attitude to things than we do and Kylie had been frustrated by it. She had no sleep, ordinary food, poorly planned activities, and inconsiderate Tongans waking her up by slapping her face at 6.30am. I told her I would have slapped them back! We collapsed into bed early, ruing the fact that with four young daughters there is no such thing as a Sunday morning sleep in.

Sunday morning arrived too fast. We did our best, but missed most of sacrament meeting. The kids had a great time at church, but Kylie and I were not really in the frame of mind for it. We have days like that sometimes. In fact we have WEEKS like that sometimes. We had a family inventory where we took stock of how things are going. We resolved to be a little kinder to one another and to speak in softer voices. We committed to continue doing several things that are working well. It felt good to be together as a family for the first time in a week. And we talked to Chanel about having a boyfriend. At the moment it’s Daniel Anderson. We spoke of the importance of being friends with everyone, and not being exclusive friends with anyone, especially if they’re a boy, until she’s at least 18. I suggested 24 was a better idea but Chanel got upset with me. A hug, an apology, and a smile fixed that – and an adjustment back down to 18!

I’ve got around 15 minutes until I take the corned beef off the stove, and we as a family are looking forward to a jam-packed week ahead – full of challenges, blessing, and joy (with soft voices and kind hearts).