eva the great

just my thoughts

[evaisgreat]

6th podcast is live! Easily the funniest one yet. Listen to us discuss the orgasm gap and advocating for better sex. Check us out on iTunes, stitcher, google play and soundcloud.

[evaisgreat]

sigh, not helpful google. #mentalhealth

[evaisgreat]

"you too are going to die, and that's because you too were fortunate to have lived." the last chapter of this is gold. during a week/month/day when i'm feeling insignificant, unimportant, small/unworthy, to read these words about death made me feel, well not alive, but perhaps less dead that i have been feeling. i take progess whenever i can get it. i clutch it. and for about 15 minutes tonight, i read words and smiled and mused about what could my life be like if I could move out of my own fucking way for once. i would actually do all these things I've been saying I've wanted to for years. to give a shit about the things that matter, and stop agonizing over shit that really, really doesn't. to be alive and not feel it has got to the greatest waste of time and energy ever.

[evaisgreat]

let me tell you a story about these chucks. the last time i wore these when i left the hospital. as you will notice, the shoe laces are gone. i had forgotten that part about the hospital. when i was admitted they took my shoe laces, my belt and my hoodie (because of the string in the hood), so i couldn't harm myself when i was there. as soon as i got home from the hospital, i took the shoes off and put the shoe laces on the dining room table. i never laced the shoes again. and so, i never wore them again. i had forgotten all about them until I was looking for another pair of chucks in my closet. when I saw them, my heart sank. the thought of wearing them again is painful. they are now my suicide shoes. it's weird because i can't remember what pants, shirt or hoodie I was wearing, but these chucks are what i remember most about that day. the laces are long gone. i can't bring myself to relace them or to wear them. but I also can't bring myself to throw them away. so back in the closet they go.

[evaisgreat]

on showing up

lately, I’ve been thinking about the importance of showing up.  I guess more accurately I’ve been thinking about it since October 23, 2015 and the weeks and months following that.  I’m not sure I had great expectations of what life would be like when I got out of the hospital after trying to kill myself.  But I can tell you, I did not expect to spend the next few months with no one but my mother, my father (who up until then had been notorious for not showing up), and my brother, who is my father’s son to the core.

It never occurred to me that best friend and my other brother, who up until then had been functioning in a best friend who constantly annoys you but you love them so much and is somehow always around), and other friends I had had for over twenty years would now show up.  I also hadn’t occurred to me how deep that hurt would go, would grow, would fester and would result in a new way of thinking of myself - as disposable.

I didn’t want people to see me in the hospital, and aside from my cousin, my mom, dad, brother#2, and grandma, no one did.  I don’t know why I expected a card or flowers or something upon exiting the hospital.  I guess I watch too much TV and that’s how it goes there.  I’d never had to be a hospital before. I’ve never had a kid and never had a surgery.  And I went to a “bad’ hospital for a “bad” reason.  Even though I didn’t really have a problem talking about having been to the hospital, other people did. But I didn’t realize that either.  I think ideally it would have stayed a secret.

And so I left the hospital, possibly as wounded as I when I went.  And the longer I stayed at home with no visitors, the more wounded I felt.  And maybe it’s like the hormones your body releases after you give birth to help you forget how horrendous that process was and how much it hurt.  But the next go round, you remember.

It took months before I could talk to my best friend about her not showing up.  She was concerned she would make her visit up more about her than me. I can understand that reason. But I will still always wish she had come up.  It took about a year for me to ask my brother, and his response was that he didn’t want his last memory of me to be that - me in the hospital.  I get that too.  I think it is selfish but I get it.

I say this to say, show up anyway.  Show up even if the person you’re going to see has stitches up there arm, or bruising on their neck, or cognitive damage from the gas or a bullet hole in their face or if they look perfectly normal sitting in a common room in a psych ward.  Will you be uncomfortable? probably.  But you know what, deal with it.  Because showing up is not about you.  It’s about the person you love.  And if you say something totally stupid or selfish, guess what?  the world will still spin, but your friend will be happy you came.  and years later, they will remember you showed up. and they will be thankful for that.

not successfully killing yourself sucks.  but you know what sucks almost more? seeing that world continued on without you, and your friends’ and family’s lives went on without you, exactly like you thought it would if you had actually killed yourself.

e.

[evaisgreat]

You can't see it, but there is funfetti cake in the mug. choosing life for the past 2 years. it's a celebration up in here. #livelife

[evaisgreat]

the only part of the dissertation anyone cares about

Acknowledgements

Dr. M, my social father, you showed me that I could study anything.  From the first time I heard you speak about your fatherhood research, I knew that was something I had to be a part of.  Thank you for helping me hone and expand my research skills.  Dr. T and Dr. G, thank you for taking this journey with me.  Dr. G, thank you for patiently explaining all the complex math I was trying to do and why it would or would not work.  Dr. Courtney Cogburn, you are the true MVP.  Thanks for jumping right in and making this happen.  Dr. N and Jessica, thank you for the second chance and believing in me when I wasn’t sure I could do this.  To you all, thank you for not giving up on me.

Dr. Monique Jethwani, thank you for helping me figure out what the story was I wanted to tell with this dissertation and helping me pare this down into something that actually made sense but was still worthwhile.  Thank you for all your advice and support, I will never be able to repay you. To Dr. Diana Hill and Dr. Courtney Cogburn for informing me that this process was not meant to be completed in isolation and giving me that loving kick in the butt to start asking for help.  And more, for actually helping me start writing and helping me through each baby step I took.  To Dr. Eric Hurley, this is all probably your fault.  You introduced me to research at Smith and always encouraged me to get more and more education.  Thank you.

To Dr. Zine Magubane, who gave me the best advice for completing my dissertation, “Just put f*cking words on the page,” who introduced me to Write Now and the dissertation bootcamp that allowed me to get papers one and two out, and who spent two days reading this dissertation and talking with me in order to bring sense to the madness.  I am forever indebted to you.  To Bongi Magune who coordinated necessary meetings and also kept reminding I wasn’t alone in this.  To Aunt Elease who refused to let me work on a computer that could barely type and who also let me live rent free for 6 months, which allowed me to even come back home.

To AL, JT and CW for employing me so I wouldn’t be homeless while giving me the space to work on my dissertation.  Your jobs also had the added bonus of allowing me to expand my research skills.  Your message of “You have to finish it, you will regret it if you don’t” was constant but very necessary.  Also thank you for allowing me use research to help people, that’s all I want to do with my life.

To the people who helped me keep my head: DT, JD, the doctors at staff at Institute of Living, and my cohort.  The fact that I made it out of 2015 alive is due to you and your work.

To Fubs, who provided constant support.  Though most of you aren’t in academia, you prayed for me, talked me off the edge, told me I was ok, worked through kinks in the papers, and even formatted some of the papers.  Your support for me was unstoppable, sometimes unbelievable and constant. Jac, let’s take it to the box. Thank you for formatting and talking me off ledges and sending kitty pics and being awesome.  Bari, you actually read it and told me it made sense! Flannery you fed me when I was hungry and read when others didn’t.  Courtney, you’re always a ray of sunshine.  Darren and Bianca, in your hectic lives you kept checking on me. Adwoa and Consuelo, your words were always kind and you put nice things in the mail.  Martinique for letting me know this process is terrible for all of us. I will forever be grateful to be part of this group and thank you Faraji for starting all this. You are proof virtual friends are better than real friends.

To the many people who have “talked daddy to me” and who have talked about their relationships with their fathers.  These conversations helped push my thinking and kept me excited about the work over these past seven years.  Your stories made my results make sense.  

To Mo and Janet, the original GSP.  You cared about my health and happiness more than the three letters, but when you realized my stubbornness and desire to keep working on this was unstoppable, you encouraged me. You were there for every accomplishment, from a table done to a draft out.  I could go on forever, but instead I will simply say “thank you” here and I look forward to spending my newfound free time with my two best friends.

To my family and friends, thanks for the prayers and pep talks, specifically Chris, my day one; Michelle, my sister from another mister; and Leah, my cousin and cheerleader. Thanks for the silly videos when I needed a pick me up, dinners and opportunities to not be a work and dissertation robot.  When it was really dark for me, thank for you dragging me out of the house and into the light (Charity).  But mostly, thanks for being there. This process was extremely isolating, thanks for being there when you could.  Also thanks for being good to Cool and Allegra.

To Cool and Allegra, whenever I wanted to quit, one of you would show up and be adorable and remind me that I was doing this so we all could have a better life.  To everyone who indulged me with my obsession with them, thanks, it’s appreciated. Vanilla Coke, antidepressants, antianxiety meds and M&Ms, I couldn’t have done with without you.

To my dad who inspired this work in the expected and unexpected ways.  Thanks for your constant support even when you had no idea what I was doing.  Thank you for stepping up and being the best father you could be.  I hope our story will inspire other daughters and fathers.

Last and certainly not least, I could not have done this without my mother. Literally. From keeping me from being homeless to replacing my computer when it died when I was in the depths of data analysis, to bringing me food so I could keep working and constantly providing prospective.  Whenever I hit a bump, you helped me overcome it.  I can honestly say, no one believed I could do this more than you.  You believed in it and me more than I did.  This is for you.

[evaisgreat]

Am I done being extra about being a doctor? Absolutely not. #dre #coolande

[evaisgreat]

this is what multiple orgasms looks like this #yourdoctorisplaying #drybar (at Bloomingdale's Soho)

[evaisgreat]

oh snap I'm a DOCTOR now 🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽 (at Columbia University School of Social Work)

[evaisgreat]

when your tribe is trying to give you the push you need but you feel like you're crashing and burning after said push #phdorbust #currently

[evaisgreat]

he doesn’t understand my depression

He doesn’t understand my depression.

He doesn’t understand my tears.  He can’t understand why I cannot stop crying.  He just tells me to calm down and stop crying.  He doesn’t say it in an angry way, more anguished than anything. “Just stop crying,” he pleads.  But I can’t keep it together.

He doesn’t understand the medication.  He called it “mind altering drugs” and told me to find a better way to deal with my emotions.  He doesn’t understand these drugs allow me to function.  Without them I can’t get out of the bed, I can’t stop crying, I can’t get work done, I don’t eat and I can’t sleep.  He misses the irony that his drug and alcohol use serves a similar purpose.

He doesn’t get that his verbal and emotional abuse, which to be fair are his coping mechanisms, threaten to destroy me. He doesn’t understand that he can’t say anything worse to me than I have already said to myself.  Every name he has called me, I have called myself. The last time I was in a situation that felt like this, I wound up in the hospital. I also lost my job. And lost my sense of self.  And that it took years to get back to a semblance of myself and to feel like I was getting my life back on track. The dissertation and boyfriend combo has wrecked me before, I can’t let it happen again.

He doesn’t understand why I stopped drinking. I understand that when my depression goes into over drive and my feelings become overwhelming, I dull them with alcohol. This time I tried to do something different and just stopped drinking altogether so that I wouldn’t abuse alcohol to get through this episode.

He doesn’t understand the planning. I picked out the belts, determined which door I would hang off of and wrote a note so my roommate wouldn’t have to find me.  He didn’t understand the severity of the situation.

He doesn’t understand why I have to say goodbye.  He called me selfish. Perhaps I am, but for once I am choosing to love myself more than a man.  This time I am choosing life and in order for me to keep making that decision I have to distance myself from people that push me towards the edge.  He also doesn’t understand that pain. The decision doesn’t make me happy, it just keeps me alive.

e.

[evaisgreat]

acccurate. 29 days. #phdorbust

[evaisgreat]

love

[evaisgreat]

Bike MS 2017: nailed it. Thanks to @borekwa and @stephanie_joy28 for riding with me (and of course Cairo too). Thanks to everyone who donated, we're one of the top fundraising teams. #bikems #mswarrior #sundayfunday (at Windsor, Connecticut)

[evaisgreat]

The Only Thing Tough Enough to Kill Me is Me

[evaisgreat]

squad! thanks for the support boos! xoxo (at Carriage House Theatre)