Fear: I’m not good enough, not smart enough, don’t have enough time, haven’t done enough to finish my PhD.
Me: I’ve written it all (bar the conclusion). But it’s still not good enough. It’s never going to be good enough and I don’t even know why I’m doing it. It really doesn’t mean that much to me anymore. I should have admitted defeat years ago and just focussed on something else.
Angry voice in head: Why are you wasting all the winter -the only time you can go camping and bushwalking in the desert- inside attached to your computer? And why aren’t you going to the gym as much as you used to? Why aren’t you going to yoga class? Why does he keep picking on me about my thesis? Can’t he see I’ve nearly finished?
Depressed voice in head: Withdraw. Hide. Hide. Hide. Hide.
Me: My mind is out of control. My emotions are out of control. I feel like I’m going to snap. I’m angry and short tempered all the time. I feel like I have no time to myself.
Fear: You’ll run out of time. You’ve got the argument all wrong. The thesis is not sophisticated enough.
Me: I’ll never be good enough. Why am I doing this to myself and my family?
…and so it goes, round and round and round in my head, the pack of dogs eating my car.
Don’t put me up on a pedestal, I’m no Boddhisattva.
*This is a REAL headline from the Northern Territory News