Week 137
Four weeks in a row now I’ve opened this document, written or changed the date, and then stared at it. Or wondered if I had anything worth sharing. I’m writing this today, on a Monday, because the light is gorgeous and I’m still on the endorphin rush of an outdoor morning ride in perfect weather. I somehow have no meetings today and so am using it to reset after this wild month. Granted, part of my brain is saying: “we must maximize efficient use of this rare experience!” but it’s been overruled, and this day will be deliciously inefficient.
The fall is increasingly a time when I need to purposefully make space for joy (and tears). A few weeks ago, my alma mater, Williams College, held Mountain Day. One of the Fridays in October, they ring the bell early in the morning, classes are canceled, and everyone is encouraged to hike up Mt Greylock to get apple cider doughnuts and listen to acapella and enjoy the foliage. I recently discovered this long-standing tradition was revived the year I started on campus, and I love the unpredictability of it as well as the invitation to enjoy the fall.
It’s been a full – somewhat hectic – month in our household. Sam and I took a staycation to celebrate our anniversary – using the school hours to go on dates together (hiking, biking, good food, and a museum). We happened to find the rare bakery in the Bay Area that makes apple cider donuts (Butter Love) in the process. I used the evenings to work on last-minute details of a grant, one of those time-sensitive compromises that honored my responsibilities to my spouse as well as colleagues. Parenting has been especially hard amid another wave of Theo struggling with all the adjustments of a new home and new school; I’m so grateful that we have an understanding, accommodating teacher as well as friends to call upon with relevant expertise. I also have had several work events (one in SF, one involving travel), which involved new levels of navigating in-person events for me (I know, much privilege in that statement). As alluded to earlier, I’ve also been part of two grants that have gone in in the last week (one left this fall!). All of this has contributed to abnormal schedules and unruly emotions.
I’ve been thinking (again) about why I share these things. Fundamentally, it’s because it can help to see some part of ourselves in our colleagues to have a sense of belonging, and so our self-doubt doesn’t sabotage our progress. It’s easier to see the successes and products of a colleague/researcher – it’s harder to see the background context, the everyday struggles.
Somewhere in the last month, a trainee asked about whether my research has had an impact. I answered truthfully – I don’t know, and to the extent that it has, it’s less than I would wish. And I hope that in seasons of life where I have more bandwidth that I’ll be able to do more. Since I’ve been “doing research” full time (across varied disciplines) since the end of undergrad, I’ve gotten a lot of practice at launching the best paper/presentation/product I can out into the world with hope and self-forgiveness, delegating judging the value of the contribution to (mostly unknown) others. I’ve gotten some signals recently that I am having impact in both my research and advocacy. Someone on the Advisory Council to the National Alzheimer's Project Act (NAPA) reached out to ask for a copy of one of my papers to share with the council. Several people at the conference I attended mentioned my grief essays. These are small but meaningful indicators. And when I worry that it’s not enough, I remind myself that it’s been an exceptionally hard few years and hopefully easier times are ahead.
All that being said, and in the spirit of modeling, next week I’m taking PTO for grief week, the fourth anniversary of the accident and death of my father.
Posts from me in the last month
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