I turned in my dissertation revisions. Now I just have to wait to find out if they’re good enough. Fortunately I have a meeting with my advisor this afternoon, so that should give me some (early) indication. The deadline for completing my degree requirements is just 3 days away. I decided that today’s work is cleaning up my citation file so that I can make the final copy as good as possible.
I’m getting my hopes up. Maybe I’m actually done. Maybe I’ll graduate this year instead of next year. If not, I’ll probably only miss it by a few days, which is even more painful to consider. But I’m trying to keep my expectations in check, both in wildly positive and dejectedly negative directions. I can’t be certain about the immediate outcomes, only the long-term details. Eventually it will all be done. If not now, then soon. That should be good enough, right?
Yeah, right. I’m not good at keeping my hopes down with something like this, something that I want this badly. It’s a struggle for a level of self-control that I know is probably not all that healthy, what with the quashing of emotions and all. I’ve just learned from experience that just like with my mood swings, when my hopes run highest, they crash farthest and hardest.
Everyone experiences disappointment, yes, I know, but I really don’t handle it well. I can’t muffle it the way I try to asphyxiate hope. So I try to kill my over-exuberant hopes in a desperate effort to avoid having them dashed quite so brutally.
I’m too stressed for a crash like that. When I remembered that I’m stressed and should try to relax, my shoulders literally fell a couple inches. But only so long as I was consciously trying to relax them. No wonder my body hurts all over.
Better stop thinking ahead and concentrate on the moment at hand. First, make a stew for dinner. Second, fix up the citations. Then, the dentist. After that, fret if necessary, and take a walk to see advisor. Get some feedback of indeterminate nature. Go home. Eat stew. Try to stay calm about going to DBT group for the first time. Actually go to the group. Make it home and collapse in front of the TV with my husband. And maybe some ice cream.