I do my first of three oral defenses next Friday for my Ph.D. program. My literature reviews, dissertation critiques, and pilot study are complete. My defense slide deck is complete. Am I complete?
In the spaciousness that comes with having all deliverables completed before their due dates, I find myself in a reflexive state. Reflexive, not reflective. There’s a difference. We reflect on things that have occurred, things that have passed. We are being reflexive when we consider how we as researchers are influencing our research process. Our Ph.D. journeys. What is currently unfolding, and how we shape its experience simply by being who we are.
Last night as I was in this reflexive space, I created the above digital collage. My digital collages are like mirrors through which I can see myself. I create, then I see the deeper meaning within my creations.
The Imagery
I began with a landscape image from New Mexico, as I had just spent the last week there attending the Society of Humanistic Psychology conference. Next, I came across an image of a woman partially in a heavier body, partially out. She wanted to face away toward the mountain. She also wanted a companion, an ibex, who had been walking this path with her all along. Then I happened upon an image of a cat peering intently over the ledge of a table. The cat was part of the landscape, and not alone. It doubled, tripled itself into a sort of cat mountain, cat totem. But it was also a sort of spirit cat totem, part of the landscape yet ephemeral. Lastly, the sacred geometry of the enneagram wanted to be in this image to represent unity, relationship, and nonlinear emergence. Placing the figure at the top of the mountain marked the gate for my upcoming rite of passage.
The Insights
So there I was, cleaning up images and layering them in Procreate until the image felt complete. But what did it mean? What was it showing me about my journey?
- I have been naked, and am becoming more naked still. The essays and pilot study I have completed over the last year have been a constant process of piling on and stripping away. My literature review experience leaves me simultaneously letting go of what I think it is supposed to be like for academia while reverting to packing more in to prove that I am worthy (and thorough) as a researcher. Today, in this moment, I know I have nothing to prove. I am a qualitative researcher. I’m doing it. And I seem to be doing it pretty darn well. No need to bury myself under more and more to prove that I know my stuff in my domain. I can trust myself and my abilities as a researcher, writer, scholar, and research instrument.
- I am not alone. The dissertation journey can be an incredibly lonely one, but I am not alone on this path. I stand on the shoulders of the academics before me. I have an amazing committee that is just right for my research interests and personal style. I have three wonderful friends who are at similar points in our dissertation journeys, with whom I celebrate, commiserate, and collaborate. I have my family and friends cheering me on. I have colleagues around the world with whom I get to share ideas and inspirations. Yes, I am ultimately the one doing the heavy lifting to complete my dissertation. That is as it should be. But I am graced by the company and persistence of the ibex every step of the way. And whether it’s at my university, at conferences, or within my professional member groups, I can feel those cat eyes watching me, waiting to see what I do next. Good thing cats are curious and awesome!
- I am ready. This first defense is a rite of passage, after which I will be a Ph.D. candidate. That defense is eight days away. I don’t feel nervous about what I will say or how the defense will go. I am prepared and I believe in my ability to proceed to the next level. The butterflies I feel in my stomach are ones of excitement, not fear. I cannot wait to proceed.
- I am worthy. Thank goodness for my doctoral candidacy committee members. Each one, in their own way, has helped transition me from thinking of myself as a Ph.D. student to owning my abilities as a researcher. More often than not, I remember and believe that I am good enough, and my work is good enough, to be taken seriously as a social scientist. As my chair has said more than once, there is nothing I need to prove at this point: I AM a qualitative researcher. I am doing it right now. Right now, standing on that desert landscape with the first gate in view, I am reveling in my belief in myself. I am proud of what I am produced so far, and cannot wait to see how my work evolves moving forward.
The Integration
In eight days I will defend my work so far and become a Ph.D. candidate. It has taken four years and a lifetime to reach this point in my journey. This pause before the passage overwhelms me with gratitude, humility, and pride.
It is a strange thing to realize that I am proud of myself, of the work I have produced so far. I grew up with so many messages about how my best wasn’t good enough. In kindergarten, I was reading at a fifth-grade level. Rather than being proud of my abilities, my dad berated me for my reading material choices (“Grocery store novels, Jeannel, really?? How disappointing…”). It’s funny how those messages store themselves away in the things under which I bury myself. What a relief that those excess layers are finally falling away. That I revel in my intellectual and spiritual nakedness. That others hold my hands and have my back. That my becoming and evolution cannot be stopped. That I am more than good enough: I am meant to Be.
I bow with a heart full of gratitude and take the next step.
