Sur-viva-l
I’ve tried to put my thoughts together about September 17 for a couple of weeks now. That day — a Monday — I had my PhD viva, and passed. This fact, which is so easy to write in seven words, is but the last chapter of a rather long book. And yes, the title of this post is an awfully bad pun. Sorry (not really).
Since I submitted my PhD in June, my main goal was to get back to ‘normal’, to rest and to show myself all the issues I had in the last year of research could disappear quickly. It took my body and mind weeks to finally get I wasn’t in panic mode anymore. I would have sudden, random anxiety surges, or I would suddenly find myself wondering in horror if my thesis was, after all, completely bonkers. I continued working throughout this post-submission period, so in a way all the drive to finish the final draft could slowly disappear to be substituted by other everyday worries. Also, applying for all the jobs in the world just to be able to make a bit more than just doing casual shifts didn’t help.
I went on holidays, the longest in years (2 weeks!), and I honestly had a great time. Sure, thinking about the viva would darken my mood, but I made an amazing effort not to be bothered by it. I enjoyed my time back in Spain, and I came back tired, but energised. Suddenly, though, the viva was nearly there, so close I could almost touch it. And it all came flooding back: what if my PhD is worthless? What if I am worthless? What if all these years have been in vain? So, for my own sake and the sake of those around me I started to suppress those thoughts: for more than two weeks the viva was taboo. I tried to make it disappear in my mind, and I avoided talking about it (while forbidding my friends to ever utter the word). Paradoxically, I was also preparing for it.
The tension between trying not to get too anxious and preparing for the source of anxiety started to build up. I had made everyone — particularly my husband — endure so much during my final year that I felt horrible for even allowing myself to acknowledge I was terrified.
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Three days before the viva, my parents came. They wanted to be with me on that day, but also a bit before, so we could all have some time out. We spent two wonderful days, all together, walking about and visiting a few places. Of course by that point my mind was completely split between the good things I was experiencing and the horrifying dread. It was my mum who could instantly see through it (because mums do). She took me aside and said: ‘There’s no point in faking you’re OK, because you’re not’. We had some quiet time together and I realised I couldn’t keep all that inside. This was less than 24hrs before the examination.
While getting elegantly dressed for the event, with everyone around the flat doing the same, it felt oddly similar to my wedding day. We were all nervous, but we were one. At that point I felt so united to my parents and my husband that I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Before leaving, my dad took off his beloved bracelet and gave it to me, so — as he put it — he could be with me. I’ve never swallowed tears so much in my life.
We went to campus together, trying to be lighthearted. They left me there, we all hugged and kissed, and I went in. I took a seat outside the room where the viva would be, and I started to panic. I re-read a couple of paragraphs in some important sections, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was spiralling out of control when the examiners arrived. They would take a few more minutes before calling me in, so I instinctively put my right hand over the bracelet and thought of all of them: my husband, my mum and dad, my friends. Not with the kind of destructive hopelessness that comes from thinking I would never meet their expectations — which is a filthy lie — but with love. I felt them there with me. I took a few deep breaths. I was called in.
1:40hrs later, it was all over. I felt strangely calm throughout the proceedings, and I was able to enjoy the conversation. I’ll never forget the kindness of the panel, who made a great effort to make me feel at ease. Five years culminated in those almost two hours. They came to a close in a beautiful way.
I left the room and went to find my family. They were coming back to campus, so I had a couple of minutes to myself in the Strand. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I cried — relief, joy — and I just couldn’t stop. I felt happy because it was all done, and grateful to my family for being there and for their love. It was a beautiful day.
The bottom line here is, everything that happened that day brought to a loving close these last five years, which hadn’t been the best in many aspects. Sure, my life now is far from perfect — I’m still working casual hours in a job that pushes me to the limit every now and then — but I can say that I did it, and that I will remember September 17, 2018 as a day in which all of us (my family, my friends and myself) graduated together.
