Print This PostIf you’re a regular reader of my blog, you will remember a couple of months ago my indecision around whether to attend an academic writing retreat. At the time, I worried that it was something of a selfish endeavour, but having recently returned from the three days of focused, silent writing, I can now see it was a life saver.
I was never under any illusion that doing a PhD alongside parenting a one-year-old would be easy. On the whole I’d say I’ve got off quite lightly, but there are days – or weeks, or months – where I find it exceptionally difficult. The last month has been like this. I’ve always known that sleep is critical for me, in terms of both quality and quantity. In my previous life I would genuinely struggle on less than nine hours of sleep. If I’m sleep-deprived, it can be a bit of a slippery slope as far as my ability to function is concerned. Where usually I can be resilient, without adequate sleep this resiliency can fall off a cliff. We’re currently at (hopefully!) the tail end of a terrible month for sleep. My son has gone from waking up at 6:30 or 7am each morning to being aggressively awake by 5:30 – sometimes as early as 4:45am. It doesn’t seem to matter how early I myself go to sleep; I’ve found the entire thing exhausting.
When I started writing this blog, I was clear that I wanted to be as honest as possible about this whole process. So, to be honest, the last month has been horrific. I’ve found it much more difficult to concentrate at work, have found myself tearful in any number of completely innocuous situations, have had the shortest fuse imaginable, and have felt like an inadequate parent to boot. Amidst this, I knew that the writing retreat I’d booked onto was fast approaching, and I was starting to dread it. It seemed unimaginably selfish to leave my husband to deal with the 5am starts solo for three days.
The retreat didn’t get off to a great start. On the train up I admitted to my colleague that I didn’t even think I should be doing a PhD anymore. Not because I think myself incapable of it, but because managing all of these things is just too hard. I find myself deeply envious of the other students in my cohort who can focus on their studies alone, when for me it can feel like I’m squeezing it in around my other responsibilities. When we got to the retreat and started the first hour of silent writing, I discovered that my laptop wouldn’t connect to the WiFi, and that my phone had no signal, so I was unable to access the notes I’d written and stored on the OneDrive.
I sat in the room of 10 other academics – thankfully with my back to them – and cried. I was so exhausted. I’d tried my best to be prepared, and it wasn’t good enough.
You’ll be pleased to hear it wasn’t all doom and gloom. After the first hour, I was able to tether internet off my colleague’s phone to access my files, so was reunited with my notes and various papers. By the end of the first afternoon I’d made a good start, writing a few hundred words of introduction, although it felt like slow and tedious work. The next two days, however, felt truly miraculous.
At the end of the twelve cumulative hours of silent writing, I’d written 7,000 words. Seven thousand words!! A feat that had taken me two months to do back home when working on my thesis. I couldn’t believe it. I felt buoyant!
Despite it being such a busy and heavily structured retreat, I felt like I was able to get some rest. I could stay in bed until 8am if I wanted to. One morning I got up at 7am and went for a run before breakfast. There was a constant stream of coffee, and delicious vegetarian food, and cake. For three days, I didn’t have any other responsibilities. I could focus on my work.
At the end of the three days, I came back home.
It didn’t take long for me to realise that a writing retreat isn’t real life, and I can’t expect the same level of productivity in my day-to-day work – particularly with limited access to protected time. But it was so important to have those three days away in order to reset, and to get some of the confidence back in my ability to get things done; in my ability to persevere, in my ability to parent. It allowed me to see how important protected time is, and that the output from a writing retreat certainly justifies the cost for me. If there is a way of my funding future retreats from my studentship, I will certainly be doing so.
Last night, I went to bed at 9:00. The alarm went off at 6am, and our son didn’t stir for another 40 minutes. I finally got my nine hours of sleep.
Emily Spencer
Author
Emily Spencer is a PhD Student at University College London looking at improving how GPs communicate with people with dementia and their family carers about their future care. Emily previous had a 5 year career break to pursue a career as a musician, and has previously undertaken research on improving the care people with dementia receive from their GP practice, as well as end-of-life and palliative care provision in the community. Emily is also a new mum and will be writing about her experiences navigating motherhood and a research career.
Nature Careers Blog
Dr Yvonne Couch
Dementia Researcher