The birth of a thesis
This blog has gone silent. Not forever and hopefully not for much longer, but I thought it was time to give you a small explanation of what has been going on. I haven’t stopped writing, not one bit. I can even say that I have been writing all day, every day. After a full day of typing and watching letters and words appear in front of me, I try to spend some time away from keyboards and screens. It’s hard to describe the past few weeks to you. After three years of research, stress, frustration, achievement and discovery, the story of my PhD is finally moving to its finale. Not a big festive finale with fireworks and champagne, but rather the birth of a thesis after three years of pregnancy. Slow and painful, yet joyful and fur filling. My life has been put on hold and my keyboard and I have become best friends, or worst enemies, depending on the time of day. Luckily, a baby thesis doesn’t start crying the moment it sees daylight! Oh, and the process doesn’t tear my guts apart or destroy my favourite body parts. Some days it sucks all energy out of me and leaves me empty-handed wondering if I am doing a remotely good job. Those days mostly end with me lying down on the ground or on top of the dining table. Just spreading my arms out, closing my eyes and accepting the pressure of gravity. There’s something strangely comforting about feeling the cool floor tiles or wooden table carrying my weight. Somewhat like accepting my faith, whatever it may be.
Every day of the week has become the same. The time of day has lost its importance. All that matters is putting on paper the years of work that have gone by. A few more lines, a few more paragraphs, just a little more pages. There’s a finish line, but not one that can be reached in a day or a week. Somewhere in the distant future, it awaits me. Sometimes I can feel the freedom tickle at my toes, but then the mist comes in and the finish line disappears into a white haze of chaos.
Surprisingly, even after all these weeks of doing hardly anything else, I still love writing. Filling empty pages with stories feels like the creation of a tiny new world. A world where I am in charge and decide on the rules. Sometimes it’s a sad world, sometimes a scientific one, other days an adventurous one and, occasionally it turns into a fairytale that has been floating around inside my head and finds its way onto paper.
Writing brings me joy and my stories will be back, but I first need to finish this chapter of my life story so that I can make a fresh start.
