Thorny and sad

In a moment of weakness this winter, I agreed to be part of a group project, in which a handful of volunteers coordinated a small series of minor events -- really not a big deal, although I found a little frustrating the number of meetings such a relatively small effort seemed to require. But it was a chance to get to know some folks and to be more obviously invested in the local community without expending much energy, so I grinned and bore it.

The project got pulled off this week, and everything went fine; some glitches here and there, but mostly smooth sailing. I was actually surprised at how well things came together, given what felt to me like moments of raging inefficiency in the planning, and we all ended the week with good feelings all around, although I had secretly resolved not to get involved in this particular type of venture again. Mutual self-congratulations are the order of the day, and everything was downright chummy in our wrap-up conversation today.

Apparently in one final moment of follow-up, one of the cohort sent around an email to the group a few hours ago, to thank everyone again for their contributions. In the email, this person felt moved to say something special to and about each one of us and thus compared each of us to a flower, such that we collectively  made up a beautiful bouquet. I know, I know -- sweet but over-the-top twee, the kind of sentiment you'd expect to find on a decorative plaque in a "Kountry Kuteness" sort of store. But whatever.

What's thrown me for a bit of a loop is my particular floral description: In the midst of wild dandelions that grow freely and of soft, comforting peonies, I am described as a rose, with pretty petals and sharp thorns that keep everyone on track. Ouch! Leaving aside altogether the mixed metaphor in which  "thorns" keep people "on track," this is so clearly NOT a compliment!

I'm trying to separate the effect the words have had on me from the kind intention of the writer, although I think it's not impossible that the bite in that description was intentional. Harder to tell in bad writing, although it's worth noting that the writer is a good Southerner and thus no doubt learned in the cradle to say in a nice voice something snarky followed by a "bless his heart." (I had the same training! e.g., in a compassionate tone: "She's such a plain girl, bless her heart.") But since this person wasn't ever going to be a particular friend anyway, I'm not going to especially worry about this possible snideness.

What I am worrying about (to the point of shedding a few tears earlier) is whether there is some truth in the description and, if so, what I should do about it. This is kind of a sore point with me, since in grad school more than one friend told me at various points that, in the words of one of them, "You're not nearly as nice as you seem." And, oh! how I have tried over the years to be kinder and gentler, to be less judgmental and more open to difference, to see value in all kinds of people, to temper my tone and words so as not to offend. And I thought it was working. Despite all of the ugliness at St. Martyr's, I was adored. Beloved by all and sundry.  And I'm not just sharing my own impression; people would actually say things to me like "Do you know how much people love you here?" So I thought I had made great strides in this being-a-better-person project.

But now I'm wondering to what extent my self-work has only gotten me to the point that I seem well-behaved in academic communities and no other. Perhaps I am still overly opinionated, overly forthright, overly quick to judge, overly quick to exert control over the conversation to get it back on track (or, obviously, what is in my view the track it should be on) in a way that seems completely standard in academic settings -- where, in fact, I eventually seemed like a lovely human being -- but is perhaps unpleasant in "normal" circles. Maybe I'm really not that nice a person.

I am undoubtedly feeling more sensitive and anxious about this because, around the same time today, I also got an email from my dissertation director. I had sent her a (carefully) chatty email about some of what I am doing this year -- being very careful to frame the whole thing in terms of my academic work -- and her reply came this morning. It was an email in which I'm sure she was trying to be nice but in which she essentially said (or at least I heard), "Well, if you don't have the commitment to stick to one project through the end and you don't after all share my love of learning and research and writing, then by all means you shouldn't really be in academia.' Now, in re-reading her email, that's an over-sensitive exaggeration of what she really said, but it's just an exaggeration, not a real misreading.

So, on the one hand I'm feeling like apparently I don't have what it takes to be an academic and thus it's probably a good thing that I'm looking at other careers as well, and on the other hand I'm learning that non-academics don't really like me and would prefer not to work with me. Small wonder this afternoon's tears!

And yes, I know full well that I'm reading WAY too much into two letters, both of which came via email, a venue in which tone is notoriously hard to read. And I'm clearly feeling bizarrely over-sensitive and blowing everything out of proportion. But of course both of these areas -- my general niceness as a human being and my worthiness as an academic -- are such long-standing areas of anxiety for me that to have both of them hit in a matter of an hour or so has been too much for my temporarily fragile ego.

Comments

[Tiruncula]

Aww, heck. The bit about not being cut out for academe is pure hooey. Who jumped through all the hoops, got tenure, and - GASP! - kept developing new intellectual interests, eh?? I can totally see how an email like that would put me in exactly the same state, but really, perspective here, people! (And hugs.)

As for the thorniness, I think you're really, really nice. At least no meaner than I am. And no bossier :)

[timna]

I think you're as nice as you seem. It was a pleasure to finally meet up in person.

Don't forget that your advisor is a) probably still invested in your specific academic success and b) didn't get all the details about how these projects work together. You're doing the academic work without the whip (tenure or whatever) which seems to me to reveal the best motivation and to indicate real intellectural curiousity.

I think maybe you need some hugs. here: ((((((0)))))

[negativecapability]

This might make me a thorny rose, but whatever...if the kind of person who would write an e-mail comparing people to flowers that work together as a beautiful bouquet thought that I was mean or inconsiderate...well, I would be glad!