Sometimes I want to throw my biological clock into the sea…
A strong statement, I admit. But right now, I mean it. I am finishing up a PhD.
I know. Anyone who has been reading my blog knows that I have been finishing up my PhD for a long time now. BUT anyone who has a PhD knows that you spend a lot of time finishing a lot of things up in hopes that one day someone will tell you that your life in tandem is over and that you have proven yourself and your ability to juggle misery and elation like a Cirgue du Soleil performer. Well, I’m close to that point. I’m close like I feel a certain type of pressure. That “get busy and close this thing out” pressure. Committee members are looking for the paper(s) that’s going to get me out the door. My PI (advisor) is looking for the work to get done to get the paper(s) out that are going to get me out the door. My bank account is looking for a better use of it’s existence.
I began thinking about and writing out my goals and plans for the next year. Part of this also includes that dark hole of a question: what do I want to do next? You mean after this whole PhD thing? Yes. That question is a dark, dark hole and I know I have to get to the other side. I know that I have to find the answer. I can’t help but get distracted when I think about the kind of life that I want. More specifically, the kind of personal life that I want. This is when my ovaries feel like they are going to keel over and give out.
I have a son. Who wants me to get married, badly. Mainly because he wants a sibling(s) to play with and be a big brother to. AWWWWWWWWWW!!! So sweet, I know, just adorable. You should see him beam those beautiful brown eyes of his at me as if to say that this the thing he wants most in life. (TUH! Tomorrow it will be a toy.) I kindly respond with my canned “one day” speech. Then I throw one more pillow over my biological clock to drown out its tick-tock-BANG. I began the burying process a couple of years ago when it decided to pop out of no where. NO WHERE. The damn thing just decided to crank up one day out of the blue…
As expected, when I consider all of the options for my NEXT step, I just want the thing to go away. I’ll be busy. I’ll be stressed. I’ll need to focus on the life in front of me. Not the life that my hormones want. Seriously, when have my hormones ever done right by me?
I just need to have a clear vision of my professional goals. I need to think about the goals that I have for providing for my son. I need to think about the sacrifices that will be required in order for all of those goals to be reached. I don’t have time for the gray area of tiny fingers and little noses. Or even that gray area of seeing my amazing little boy be an amazing older brother. SIGH.
I feel like I need to go somewhere and lay prostrate. Especially, when I think about the fact that throwing my biological clock into the sea isn’t going to happen. It’s ticking is going to be there in the back of my mind until…well…until it wants to shut up. Until then, the gray areas get consideration. I don’t have a choice, my hormones are standing over me like the muscle men of their crime boss, this damn biological clock.