Another monday morning rolls around. I find it so hard on mondays to snap back into philosopher mode, after a weekend of refereeing squabbles and the mad dash to locate water bottles that is a monday morning. I tend to feel pretty shell shocked by the time i get in from the school run, and the fact that is was pouring with rain so i had to locate wellies and raincoats as *well* didn't help. It was a lovely weekend, actually, the kids were on good form and we had a cosy sunday with lots of stories and cuddles.
Nonetheless, i sit here now and struggle to remember my name, let alone what i was supposed to be doing or why the metaphysics of biological individuality matters. The switch between mummy-mode and academic-mode is so extreme it can hurt. Mummy mode is all about being reactive, responsive, and controlling my inner reactions so that i seem calm, warm, upbeat. It's almost dissociated - everything is about suppression. I go to my happy place so i can just keep repeating requests in a doggedly happy voice. It's hard work, and i need a rest from it afterwards, even on days where i'm not aspiring to transition into deep concentration and flow as soon as i get home.
So today i need my planning strategies more than ever. Reviewing the previous week is helpful to remember what on earth my job is, and hopefully gain a bit of a confidence boost from remembering something i did actually manage to do.
I gave my talk on tuesday last week, and i'm fine to now confess that it was a bit of an intense preparation period for that, because i'd read my timetable wrong and thought i had an extra week to get it ready. What's more, last monday began with a pretty intense pre-school tantrum about getting the eczema cream on. My daughter has a pretty serious skin condition, and lately has come to hate the sticky ointments we are supposed to lather on twice a day. The Doc says it has to go on "no matter what", so i'm pretty accustomed to chasing her around the house, but that morning was an especially screamy and scratchy affair. I walked home from drop-off in tears, just beyond exhausted from it all. and then i spent the whole of monday morning *not* writing my talk, but instead designing a bright poster-sized game-show style plan for getting the cream on in the mornings, complete with elaborate prizes and time-challenges. I didn't feel guilty about it - I needed a plan for surviving my mornings and often survival has to come before deadlines, however close they are.
I was pleased with how the talk turned out actually, the feedback suggested it was clear and engaging, and it really helped me to identify lacunas. The audience was full of eager grad students whose enthusiasm was really lifting.
On wednesday i predictably felt really downbeat and unhappy with it. This *always* happens with me. Even at this ripe old age there are a large amount of stress hormones associated with giving a talk, and the adrenaline buzz is standardly followed by a dip the next day. It's so routine that i know well enough to ignore it, so i simply did some much-needed admin catch up the next day.
Thursday and friday i powered along, made some good progress thinking through an issue that the talk revealed, as well as just writing it up.
But i didn't get the chapter finished by friday, like i planned. How do i feel about this? I'm not giving myself a hard time. When i look back on that week, the biggest challenge/achievement was the cream-game, not the talk. The stress it was causing was taking so much of my energy and thought-space. the game is working like a charm so far, and the relief feels like its probably added years to my life.
I'll finish the chapter this week instead, and i'll very much enjoy my family in the meantime.
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