Finishing my PhD program

When I say “I don’t know if I can do this” in regards to my PhD program, I think most people think I’m grasping for a compliment or looking for affirmation. I’m actually not. I’m being completely honest that I don’t know if I can do this. I can tell that the people around me; my friends, family, and colleagues are all well-intended in their pursuit to be helpful and are confident in me in ways that are so touching. Yet, I still don’t think they truly hear me when I express my doubt about my ability to finish my doctoral program.

I don’t think they hear the emotional exhaustion that has taken over my body.

I don’t think they hear the silent tears I cry daily.

I don’t think they hear my mind racing as I ruminate over how I could have been a better daughter.

I don’t think they hear the strength it takes to get out of bed each morning.

I don’t think they hear the constant breaking of my heart.

I don’t think they hear me.

Instead, it feels like people assume I don’t think I’m smart enough or have what it takes to finish my program. Sure, those things cross my mind. Of course, I have moments of insecurity regarding my intellectual ability, but that’s not truly what it is. The reason I feel like I don’t know if I’ll finish is because I’m grieving…deeply grieving.

How can I write well thought out sentences, utilizing words unfamiliar to the core of my being when I can barely formulate the words to express how I’m feeling?

How can I read the hundreds of pages required weekly when I can’t focus and absorb the words on the page because my mind is anywhere but in my readings?

How can I keep up with the pace of my cohort when my progress is thinking about my dissertation topic, not actually producing anything on paper?

So, I stare at my computer, hoping to get some words out. Praying I comprehend some of what I read. Wishing I didn’t have to go to class unprepared yet another week. Hoping my classmates are more prepared than me because just showing up to class is a feat.

I know I’m smart. I know I’m capable. I know I can finish my PhD program, but at what cost and of what quality? I’m not superwoman. I cannot will myself into writing more, or reading more quickly. I’ve tried and I’m left sitting in my desk chair, looking out the window into the dark sky wondering how will I do it.

How will I manage to not disappoint my family?

How will I manage not being another Black woman to leave my program?

How will I manage to keep it together?

How will I do it?

And then I wake up and do it all over again because I haven’t found the answer.

I don’t know what the solution is.

I can’t move any faster.

I feel sad.

I feel mad.

I feel alone.

I feel misunderstood.

I feel trapped.

I feel pressured.

I feel disappointed.

I feel all of this.

And yet I do want to finish. I want to accomplish this dream I’ve had. I want to defy stereotypes, produce quality scholarship, and highlight the experiences of Black women. Yet, I don’t know how to accomplish this in the midst of my grief.

I don’t have a nice bow to tie this one up. I don’t have a silver lining. Grieving is hard and it sucks. I miss my daddy so much. I start grief counseling next week. I’m hoping that will help. At least it will give me a space to talk about my daddy and my feelings, unapologetically. I guess it’s a step in the right direction as I continue to journey through life as I grieve.