All By Myself

I didn’t talk to Boss. I will. Soon. Honestly.

In the meantime, there is something about which I can complain.

Many moons ago (does that mean months? If not, I mean months and misused a phrase.), I worked with Joe on a project involving mice. By “worked” I mean I stood two steps behind him while he worked, making horrified expressions and generally fretting until such a time I could return to my desk and hope the residual sickness eased.

After a good deal of time, I told Joe and Boss that I no longer was able to deal with the tiny brown animals with their sweet little ears and admittedly icky tails. When I quit that project, I basically severed many ties with the main polar bear world since Joe was my only real contact.
I should be completely clear that Joe is a wonderful guy. He’s very bright and successful, yet consistently funny and kind and lovely. In the transition from post-doc to junior faculty, he had a tremendous amount of responsibility. I didn’t expect that he’d hold my hand through other projects when I definitely let him down with the mouse work. And we basically lost touch except for an occasional smile when we’d pass in a hallway.

Of late, Joe has been a more vocal presence. He is attempting to solidify a research focus for one group and merge multiple paths into a cohesive group goal. This is admirable and important – providing a community, building resources, forming a reputation as a group throughout the field. All good things and I applaud his efforts. Honestly.

But it’s making me feel isolated and unimportant and awful.

It started with a website. Joe listed all the topics of research he felt were important, and asked some of us to contribute. While everyone else had 4-5 lines on the list, I had only one and it was only vaguely representative of my current work.

Why feel badly? I haven’t been very open about my work outside my safe, little community in my department. Therefore, it’s my fault that people aren’t aware of my recent endeavors. But I don’t want to be a bother and I didn’t want to do another seminar after the first one was – largely – a rehashing of graduate work.

So I sent off little blurbs to Joe, as requested, to create a small in-house Wiki.

He responded by wanting to confirm that the work was done here rather than elsewhere. So I called him a whore (in my mind – not to his face) and confirmed that was the case.

But it cemented in my mind that people here feel I haven’t done enough or contributed substantially. Even as I’ve grown more productive and felt moderately successful, I haven’t found the welcoming and supportive environment I had hoped would be here.

One afternoon this week found me in a meeting with delightful people. I didn’t know them – hadn’t even seen some of them before – but they were lovely.

Joe entered and began to talk about forming a community and working together toward a common goal and unification of purpose and sharing strengths and conquering weaknesses… And the work I do wasn’t mentioned. So they talked about shared problems and interests and goals and I listened politely and hoped I’d get to leave soon.

Yet at the end, we formed small focus groups. As people were casually assigned to various areas, I waited and tried to appear as small as possible as my stomach grew increasingly upset.
“Did we get everyone?” Joe asked, glancing around, and I winced before raising my hand a bit.

“Yeah,” Chris said from behind me, “I was going to suggest Area C, but then I realized Katie would be the only one in that group. So…”

“Well, where can we put you?” Joe said, looking around, and I felt like we were picking teams for gym and not only was I undesirable, I had no relevant talent to contribute. Everyone is working far outside my area of interest and experience.

“I’m fine.” I said, shaking my head at Joe.

“You don’t want a group?” He asked and I shook my head in lieu of saying, “No, I don’t get a group. There’s a difference, and it sucks, but that’s life.”

“You two could be a group.” Chris suggested and Joe nodded before adjourning the meeting. I pounced on the opportunity and scampered from the room as quickly as possible. When I’m hurt or upset, I tend to withdraw and desperately needed the quiet calm of my office outside the polar bear habitat.

Joe sent email yesterday – a forward – and I read it. He had asked several relevant professors to join our large, overall group in Area C. But he hadn’t included me in the original email or talked to me at all. Which means that I don’t even get to play within my own small group. There are only 2 of us, and even then, I'm not important! Now, perhaps Joe thinks I’m not interested, which might be fair. I’m uncomfortable and awkward around those people and my urge to escape could be, I suppose, interpreted as disinterest.

Ahead of the forward he wrote, “I forgot to include you in this email. Sorry.” Then there was a frowny face that I think was supposed to indicate regret.

I replied without thinking overly hard about it and said, “Being forgettable and not included is apparently part of what I have going on here. So no worries.” It was overly dramatic and likely inappropriate but I want him to stop hurting my feelings! I felt badly about it at the same time – he’s not a hurtful person and I knew it wasn’t intentional.

He replied and wrote, “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever read. Please don’t hate me.” So I told him I didn’t hate him at all, was feeling overwhelmed and pitiful and that he really shouldn’t worry about it. I had earlier mentioned that I was looking to leave in a year – I wanted to protect my feelings and let them know that if they didn’t want me around, the feeling was mutual. I wanted out.

So when Joe asked for slides today – recent work that could be included in an upcoming presentation – I shrunk into myself and stopped the work I’d be doing most of the day. I don’t want to submit something he won’t use so I feel badly about recent work of which I am pretty proud. Yet I can’t submit nothing since he asked and I am very involved in research in this area, albeit on a human rather than animal level.

So I’m sad. And bothered. And feeling very alone and jealous of people who have research communities. I wish I had one. Even though I'm pretty sure the blame for my lack can be placed directly at my feet.