the personal side of things
So, the professional side of my life is good. I'm fairly certain that I'm going to complain about writing papers and grading student work and dealing with student and going to boring meetings for the rest of my academic career but, in the end, I'm lucky - and happy - that I have this career to complain about.
More than that, there are specific aspects of this career that do bring happiness into my life. Figuring out how to make my ideas fall into a coherent argument, whether I'm writing or presenting or simply talking about that: that is a happy moment for me. Having an article accepted or a grant awarded: that feeling of accomplishment certainly makes me happy - even if it only lasts in the 5.2 minutes before I start worrying about the next one. Putting together a strong syllabus, figuring out interesting assignments, seeing my students' light bulbs click on: all happy things.
What I really enjoy, though - and without a doubt, the part of being a professor that really brings me happiness - is interacting with my students. It's a different kind of happiness than the other things I mentioned, perhaps more transitory (since they're sure to annoy the crap out of me in the next encounter) and even bittersweet (because I know they have a more important role in my life than I do theirs) but very worthwhile. I talk tough when it comes to teaching and student relationships - and I am tough - but my students mean quite a lot to me and I care about them more than I'd be willing to admit to them (and probably myself).
And that brings me to the personal side of my happiness. In general, I find a great deal of happiness in my own life. I get a little rush of the smiles when I listen to favorite music or pull a blueberry pie out of the oven or find a letter in my mailbox or watch tomatoes sprout in my garden. Those are the sorts of small things that everyone needs in her life, the quiet happy moments that bridge the gaps between work and sickness and stress. I can fuss and curse and scream with the best of them at the drop of a hat (see: attempting to fix home wireless network) but I can turn around ten minutes later and make someone laugh with a good story (see: dinner tonight with a friend who's getting married this weekend).
Still, there's a larger issue that manages to leach these moments of much of their potency. I always came back to the fact that I'm alone, and I absolutely hated myself for strumming that old song on the heart strings. I am a grown woman, independent, strong, intelligent, brave; I certainly don't need a man to complete my life, and from past relationships, I know with utter certainty that a relationship does not guarantee a life in the land of rainbows. Even though I struggle - and feel I always will - with feelings of failure and inadequacy over my failed relationships (after all, I'm the one who keeps getting left here), I can logically accept there's more to life - and therefore, happiness - than having a partner.
But I think Brigindo managed to get at what I'm struggling with in her comment earlier this week. It's not being alone or being single or not having a partner, all of which I can manage. What is so difficult is the complete lack of intimacy in my daily life. I had never articulated that before but she has it right: it's hard to be happy when I feel so disconnected. As B* and BarbS agreed, it's the loneliness of not sharing my life with someone, of feeling like no one really cares that deeply for me.
I can't claim that I feel connected to my family; even though we love each other dearly, there are too many differences to create the type of connection that I crave. I do find that with my nieces and nephews, though, especially the younger ones who love unconditionally and hug with abandon. I have good friends here and we share quite a bit but, in the end, we aren't that deeply connected, either; perhaps it would be different if I was physically closer to my closest friends, the ones who've known me longer and better. I'm not, though, and there's little I can do to overcome the lack of an intimate relationship in my life now.
I'm guessing that what brought this to a head is the complete meltdown of my friend group this semester. Lack of intimacy isn't a new issue for me, obviously (even if I didn't articulate it as such) but it's been harder to ignore with recent events. A group of friends formed when I moved here; gradually, the group has gone its separate ways. Even though everyone is friendly, people aren't really friends with each other anymore, leaving me to move between the individuals and pairs since I'm still friends with everyone. Then there's the disintegration of my friendship with Garden Friend; we're working on the friendly aspects but we'll never be the close friends we once were. Add to that the arrival of children, new relationships and upcoming marriages among my friends, and there's even more to make me feel disconnected from people. Niece #2 graduated from high school this past weekend; everyone - and I do mean every one of the 84 family members who showed up - was there to celebrate except me. For some reason, having my mom and sister and niece tell me this and stress how much they missed me didn't make me feel better. And, yes, the death of my friend has certainly made me more pensive. Despite the distance, we were very close and her death is truly a loss to me.
It helps to name things. Being able to articulate that this recent spate of unhappiness could come from my lack of intimate connections somehow makes me feel better - as does working through it here. It doesn't help me solve the issue; it doesn't make it any easier to manage; it doesn't make me any happier in the long run. But it does help to know that I'm not crazy, that other people can understand the power of a solitary life to erode personal happiness. I can obviously focus on the small things that make me smile - like pictures of Adorable Nephew and Newest Niece from my mom or picking out a new color for my guest bathroom - and do my best to include them in my daily life. That's all that I have the power to change at this point. It may not provide me with the happiness I'm looking for but it's the best I can do right now.
9 thoughts:
solitary life is hard, and I can really relate to what you've written over the last few days. Feeling like I come first for no-one is very, very lonely, however many small things go well - it helps a lot to know that other people feel the same, though. So thank you for writing so honestly about it all.
Well written! I think many people, male and female have these same feelings of wanting someone that cares about them. I know I do.
"I know they have a more important role in my life than I do theirs"
Maybe that's true a lot of the time, but it can't always be true.
Beautifully expressed, and very thoughtful. Thank you.
Those of us (so many of us in academia--and many, like myself, who moved 1000s of miles away, alone) who leave our families and friends to start lives in new communities can relate to this posting.
I've been in my new "home" for 15 years now and it's only recently that I've stopped looking at my new friendships as "new" or "less intimate" than my ongoing (now long distance) friendships with friends from college. But I see newer faculty struggle with that disconnect: some try to recreate the intimate friendships they had before (sometimes too quickly) while others hold back too much for too long. (I've done both over the years.)
I wish you all the best as you continue to figure this out, but yes, articulating your thoughts was as helpful to me as it sounds like it was to you.
Dear It's Probably Me, I've been a reader of your blog for a few months now and have appreciated your thoughts on academic life and what it means to have a life outside of academia, as well, especially in regard to friends and family. One sentence in today's post jarred me--even to the point where hours later it bothered me and I felt I should comment. You said, "I know [my students] have a more important role in my life than I do theirs." I'm sure that's not entirely true. As a professor and a doctoral student, someone in her late twenties and still trying to get her footing in this career, there's not a day that goes by when I don't think back to the professors who have inspired, encouraged, challenged, impressed, or irked me the most. In fact, THEY are part of what makes me, me. I know that not all students will go on to graduate school and choose the same life you have, but I also know that teachers make differences that they have NO IDEA about. I'll realize something years after I've taken a course; suddenly the lightbulb turns on when I read something new...and I have never gone back to talk to that teacher and tell them that I finally "got it." They'll never know. To them, I'll forever be the little girl on the front row with the furrowed brow. And yet that teacher has changed my life forever, regardless of how important or trivial the lightbulb may be. All of this to say...we as college instructors shouldn't kid ourselves and pretend like we are the end all and be all of our students' lives. But don't underestimate the influence you have in the classroom as well as out of it, and perhaps even *way* out of it. My professors have made all the difference in my life, which is ultimately why I chose the same path.
What a beautiful and insightful post. It seems to have touched so many of us and has really made people stop and think. I love that about the blogosphere--the capacity for sharing and intimacy with people you may never meet in real life.
I've lived with and without deep and intimate connections and while it is definitely better to live with them I do realize that I can't count on them as a constant. Fortunately and unfortunately life is constantly flowing and nothing can stay the same so the connections we make, no matter how strong, aren't always able to stay present in our lives the way we would like/need them to.
It sounds like you're feeling better about not having the answers. I hope the sense of peace continues and that the connections you crave come back into your life.
I wish I lived near you, so we could hang out and talk in person.
JaneB: I was reading about an early American female novelist yesterday who wrote to a friend to say she suffered from "the pain of being first to none" - and 200 years later, here we are, too.
stfarmer: Funny, I don't hear or read about men feeling the same but surely this isn't a situation confined to women. Maybe we're just willing to admit it?
Anastasia: Agreed. Perhaps the imbalance comes from me feeling as if - some days - my students are the only real connection I have. I talk about them like some people talk about children or pets, and I know that, in that sense, I am certainly not as important to them. Not to be all creepy though! I'm fully aware of boundaries! :)
annieem: Yes, it really did help, and your comments did, too. I so agree with your point about falling into friendships too quickly or holding back too much. I think that captures perfectly where I am in my friendships at PRU City right now.
Karen Beth: You've written a lovely tribute to your former teachers/professors. I've lucky enough to have a few students express those sentiments to me, and that more than makes up for the less-than-positive student interactions. I think what I meant to say was more along the lines of my response to Anastasia: My students often feel like my only real connection to other people, as distant as that connection may be. I truly hope they don't have that same feeling about me!
Brigindo: I do feel very connected to bloggy friends, too. Funny how that happens! Writing through this has helped purge some of the emotion from the situation. I think I'm back to my normal state of dealing with what I can't change.
B*: I know! I'd love to bake you cupcakes while we hung out. :)
mmmm! cupcakes!
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