It’s 6am on the second day of the
New Year, my last weekday of vacation. I’ve been up since 4, since my 3 year
old daughter woke up screaming like a banshee. I got out of bed, shushing my
way over to her room that she shares with her brother. I get her in my arms,
she clutches me like a newborn monkey, and I notice her brother is not in his
bed. I ask her where he is, then I hear him say “I’m over here” … turns out, he
couldn’t sleep still after his midnight visit to see if I was still awake –
which I was – then moved two pillows and a blanket out onto the couch. He’s
always had weird sleep issues, since the day he was born. He’s had an incredible fear darkness and
being alone, something his sister really doesn’t have at all, even when she
tries to mimic his fear. I think this fear is deeper than just the typical
baby, toddler, young kid fear that everyone – including myself – tend to think
of. He cannot be rationalized out of his fear, as if he truly did see something that scared him. He doesn’t
have the wildest imagination; indeed he’s very grounded, rational, and logical.
He is sensitive but not wimpy, extremely empathetic but can be brutal (not
violent). He’s easily influenced by things around him, both good and bad
examples, and is clearly already trying to find out who he is. So where this fear came from is a mystery. Nothing in
his life, except for a tough birth, would suggest that he so instantly required
someone by his side almost all the time, especially when he slept. He slept in
our arms or on our chests all through his first year and transitioning him
through any new sleep adventure was difficult. So, I think his sleeping on the
couch was because the Christmas tree was still lit and the light from the fish
tank along with the bubbling of the filter probably soothed him where nothing
else would.
But his sleep issue is not what I
wanted to write about. Instead, it’s an epiphany I had while restless as the 3
year old slept happily next to me. Yesterday, I found a job posting on USAJOBS.
It’s exactly what I would have gone for after my PhD if I’d had clarity. It’s a
research compliance position with the VA in West Haven, CT (CT is where we want
to move to before my son starts high school, so this early departure from Texas
would have been very, very welcome). The job basically requires that the
employee review animal care and research proposals for compliance with state
and federal regulations. I had wanted to go into regulatory affairs already
long ago and, after the last research job in CA where animals were routinely
misused and misappropriated, I was eager to find a more ethical line of work. Hence,
my departure from research; but this position with the VA would have been great
for so many reasons. So I applied, contacted a former boss at another VA that I
worked at hoping he’d serve as a reference should it be needed, and then put
the kids to bed.
Then comes 5.30 … and in an effort
to get some more hours of sleep before the dogs rouse and kids wake up, I play
some Liquid Mind music. Moments later, I’m in a lucid dream state that startles
me awake. I was back having my intense feelings of guilt and regret over all
the years I did animal research. I knew, in 2001, that going into a lab and
going to grad school, that this was a necessary evil, but that if I worked
hard, I’d get a faculty position and be out of the forced animal work. Indeed I
did work very hard, being labeled as a super star by faculty and peers by the
time I finished my degree. But post-doctoral work just didn’t fill a gap I had.
For a while I thought it was my difficulty transitioning or not understanding
how the VA worked or regretting not having taken a break between graduation and
starting post-doc work. But, I was 6 months pregnant by the time I finished and
really probably couldn’t take another 7 months (3 pre-partum and 4 post-partum)
of vacation, not with the pathetic grad student stipend and LB’s lack of work
in WA (and the impending financial clusterfuck in 2009 that would financially
decimate us, even now in 2015). But I think more than anything, I was resistant
to operating on and killing another rat. I had won a dissertation writing grant
which removed me from animal work since I’d collected all data. I had people
working under my direction to minimize my exposure to animals since I had such
totally batshitinsane allergies by the beginning of 2008 that without a stash
of Benadryl I would never have finished the work. It was marvelous … exactly
what I had imagined faculty would be. But there I was, in postdocs without
access to undergrads or techs that would do certain tasks. The work I did in
the second postdoc was miserable, not technically difficult at all, but no variation
in technique or consultation with experts ever produced convincing,
reproducible results. Either I sucked or the hypothesis was too narrowly
constructed. Even worse, to my own sense of science, was when something did work, I was discouraged
from pursuing what it was, since I couldn’t say definitely what it was without more work. I mean, isn’t that science?! God, I was
pissed at that point … and also, as if divine, pregnant again. I was lucky to
have a very astute OB NP who picked up at the 5.5-6mo check-up that something
was very, very wrong with me. Had she not said something, I might have just
chalked everything up to being pregnant, not the environment I was working in.
I’m also thankful to the OB who listened, weighed the options, and gave me the
out I desperately needed. [There’s more to the issue of me leaving the last job
than just not getting to pursue this one finding. A LOT more.]
That's me, sucker of souls.
As I lay awake, not just
picturing the surgical techniques, the transcardial perfusions, the handling of
the rats, but also feeling the pain and anxiety of the rats undergoing the
procedures, I realized that there is no way I can do this job at the CT VA. I
cannot read what other investigators
are going to do and be ok with it. It’s a reason I won’t now go to law school
(aside from the gender and age biases rampant in that overloaded field) – I just
don’t want to see the level of evil
that humans are capable of. I admire my friends, especially those in something
like family law, where the pay is anything but marvelous and they see some
incredibly heinous things that go on. Maybe they get through it because it
makes them feel good to get the kids out of bad situations. But those
situations tend to stay with me, deep inside me. Just like all the things I did
with the rats … I knew what I was doing, but I had a personal end-goal, so I
pushed it all aside, ignoring it, staying focused and not taking time off. It’s
clear in retrospect that not taking a true vacation like other students was my
way of chugging through the bad parts of my job. But this also hurt me in my
relationship with my oldest brother. After the death of our mother, I went back
to school – obligated to finish up 2 quarters of TAships but at the same time
unable to return to clean out the house. I was in such an unbelievably dark
place as a graduate student – I mean really, really, really, really dark … so
dark that now in my awake state I have virtually no connection to it as I did
earlier this morning in my lucid dream state. It was so dark, I was so focused,
I could let no light in. The death of my mother pushed me into an even deeper
darkness that I was minimally emotional. Yes, she was dead and I was sad. But the
rest of me was almost sociopathically apathetic. I was so committed to the dark
recesses of work that I also didn’t realize the importance of my role in
helping to clean out my mother’s house. I really was ignorant of the
implications of my absence. I wish I could write here that I avoided it
actively and made up some story about having to teach and blah blah blah. But
it was true – I did have to teach; I got shit for having missed 3 weeks of a new
quarter … honestly, I think that was bullshit from the professor, but whatever,
I caved. And I think any conscience or regret I had at the time was lost in the
grotesque darkness of my … soul?
As I finally, for the first time
in 10 years since my mother died January 4, recognized the immensity of my
personal darkness, I cried uncontrollably. I could not believe the evil, for
the purposes of this writing, since I know of no other word that even remotely
describes what this is, that poured out of me. It was like a movie, where all
the evil a person has accumulated through their life releases upon their death,
where all the souls the devil has stolen suddenly become free upon some sort of
battle that slays his evil. And then, I realized, I will have to withdraw my
application. I cannot put myself back into this position of having the daily
task of handling what goes on with animals. I am not the sort of person who
compartmentalizes well – sure, I did in grad school – but no longer. Every
aspect of my life is intertwined. I cannot approve work on animals without
simultaneously thinking about my own children or pets. My empathy towards
animals runs so deep and has been part of me since I was my daughter’s age that
I cannot sacrifice it for a couple of tens of thousands of dollars more in
salary.
My epiphany was not nearly as golden and pleasant.
Some people may not understand
and scoff at my ‘weakness’. But it is who I am. My life is not defined by how
much money I have. It matters to me that I have a roof over my head and can
provide for my family. But I don’t need a bunch of stuff. I’d rather have a warm,
fuzzy dog lying next to me, thankful he is no longer sleeping on cold concrete,
worrying if he’ll be next to be euthanized, knowing he’s always going to have
food and buddies to play with and a place to call home, than have a bigger tv,
fancier car, etc. As it is, we are extremely “lucky” (we deserve it, we earned
it) to have what we have … two very healthy kids, both of whom ice skate, one
of whom plays hockey (the other wants to), private school, vacation time, and a
loving partnership. Yes I wish we lived closer to family in a place that had 4
seasons (one that includes real snow), but for now we have everything we need. And
my inner darkness seems to have left me this morning. Or maybe I just
hallucinated the physical freeing of this burden from a lack of sleep … I know that I'm really happy in my new career and I'm damn good at it. Happy ending.
And a former research scientist.
But I do know that I owe my
brothers an apology for not having been there when they needed me. It’s not an
excuse and the reason seems lame, but there was a lot of pressure on me to be
in CA or else lose my whopping $20k stipend and have nothing to fall back upon.
