Telling a story

Entrapment: My supervisor said I’m running out of time. I feel I need more time. She and I are trapped in my writing chaos, my broken thesis. Only she and I can free each other from this snare.

My Motto: “If not now, When? If not us: Who?” (J.F. Kennedy’s call for national action.)

What my supervisor said about my Methodology Chapter: “It’s really there” and then she sent me a hundred edits. Did she mean ‘it’s nearly there’? There’s a big difference between ‘really’ and ‘nearly’. The former means it’s OK; the latter suggests I can’t quite make it, I haven’t made it, I never will make it. Self-doubt looms again. Fear of rejection.

What my supervisor said about my Literature Review Chapter: I won’t read it if you keep making changes.

What my crying inner child said: Rejection. There it is. I always knew it was coming.

What my supervisor said about my Analysis Chapter: It’s coming along well. You should think about ‘telling a story’ and use lots of comments from ‘the research participants.’

What my research participants said in my imagination: Beware of what you write about us. We will reject you…We will cast you out of The Community.

What my inner psyche said: Fear the rejection of The Community. It happened to me once before…a long time ago…Fear the rejection of my supervisor... it may be looming in the near future.

What my startled inner child remembered: My father cruelly rejected me when I was too young to cope with the pain. He was a prominent member of The Community. My brain has been permanently scarred. If I pre-emptively sabotage my thesis work and make The Community reject me now, then the pain of opening that wound won’t be as bad as it would if it happens when I’m off guard.

What I’m listening to right now: I am soothed by Nigel Kennedy, loutish violin virtuoso playing Inner Thoughts. His violin talks of sadness eclipsed with soothing moments of serenity.

What I’ll do next: Feel the fear of rejection and do it anyway. I’ll tell the story and send it to my supervisor.