I came to quit...

I came to Sheffield today and it took a record 6 hours to get here. The worst journey I've ever made north. Just horrible. But that sort of suited my objective, which was to quit my PhD. A bleak prospect, almost as bleak as torrential rain and jack-knifed lorries on the M1.

But I got here and cried at my supervisor and started to feel better. She asked what I wanted to do. I don't know, I said, immediately starting to weep. And then she asked the question "Do you want to leave?"

And I said... no. No, but I don't know how not to. I don't know how to finish. How do I negate my lack of time, lack of funds and declining mental health? I have to start at least part-time work. That's a given and when that happens... well, what happens to the thesis? She had no immediate answers, but she gave me a beautiful Christmas present and took me for sushi and at least briefly the wound was covered up. Which I really needed. Tomorrow and Thursday the decisions will be made.

I wish it was easy to walk away from this. I dream about it. Just the other night, my brain gave me an answer to something in a dream that I could not work out whilst I was awake. Tell me how I can walk away from something like that? It's impossible to do it, it's impossible to not have regrets if I leave it behind. I'll always know that with more discipline and (well, independant wealth would help tbh) less being mental I could have been a Doctor. I could have had that University position, that path I picked at 10 years old... that just didn't work out.

So, that's where I am right now. Hold on to your hats, the next entry could be explosive. Or really sad.