As we jump back into the school year “grind” I’ve thought over a few things regarding the way I see myself producing work. The pandemic and subsequent quarantine have me checking in on my priorities more than I ever had before. I’m not sure how many of you are familiar with the motivational speech Secrets to Success by Eric Thomas (I’d suggest watching it if you haven’t). This speech was a staple in my home from high school onward. My dad would regularly remind us that we needed to want the things we were chasing like we want to breathe. Having poorly controlled asthma as a child made the desire to breathe concrete in my mind so this was easy for me to carry in high school. I wanted to be the best in math so I drilled equations, joined the math team, and tutored my peers. I was the best. It was harder in college but still doable: I wanted to have adventures. I joined student organizations, networked with student life staff, performed at nightclubs, went to parties, got politically involved, and met so many new people.

Post-college was a different story. There was nothing I really wanted like I wanted to breathe. I barely wanted to breathe. After lots of time and hard work, I found myself with passion, direction, and wanting. Cue SARS-CoV-2. We all went home with the intent to keep our distance to keep safe. We never stopped working and we never stopped producing. We watched infection and death counts rise. We lost family and friends; many of which never received proper send-offs. We grieved but we never stopped. My time was split between this global/personal trauma and my productivity, but my mind was almost entirely focused on my communities. Thinking-of-you texts, virtual happy hours, and drive by events became my (and many others’) way of connecting. It occurred to me that I wanted community, connection, and love like I wanted to breathe. My bonds with others became vital in a way that was new and counter-intuitive to the individualistic, capitalist messaging that shaped my way of navigating life before. My home was a chrysalis for the person that was going to be on the other side of this pandemic. I was accepted to a doctoral program.

I’ve heard it said that you (instead of your dissertation) are the main outcome of a Ph.D. program. In my first year, much of my work was done individually and at a pace that didn’t honor the space I needed to sit with ideas in ways that felt good. I was inundated with academic proverbs such as “publish or perish” and “if I can just make it through the next two weeks” from students, faculty, and others professionals. I struggled to hold on to my emerging values of community-over-productivity and once again, I felt the pressure to set aside global/personal trauma for the sake of productivity. This summer I asked myself “What do I want my becoming to be through this journey?” I want to be well. I am becoming well.

It had been three years since my last hospitalization for mental health and I was declining. I quickly realized that I would need to make some major changes to honor a promise I made to myself to protect the person I was becoming. A person who is transparent, vulnerable, and authentic. I needed to practice time budgeting and create routines that fostered creativity. I checked in with my advisor, therapist, and mentors to create both action and recovery plans before the school year started. I’ve recommitted myself to physical, personal, and spiritual activities. I am determined to have a strong year personally and professionally. I want it like I want to breathe.

Cheers to a new school year!