on leaning in

diss diary #1: who knew an arm workout could change everything?

Dear Weed-ers,

I’ve been in Paris for a month now!!! But it’s been hard these last four weeks. Thank you to everyone on the receiving end of my anxious phone calls and text chains. But you must know that the Cana who flew from BOS to CDG in February is not the same person writing today.

See, that other Cana was so confident. “As soon as I hit the ground, everything will make sense,” I told myself as I struggled to work on chapter edits back in Boston. “I’ve studied abroad here before, how different could this be?” I asked myself as I packed up half my life into spare suitcases and Tupperware bins for storage. “You love doing things on your own, so this will be such a dreamy time,” I said, soothing the anxieties I had about being a stranger in a new world.

Everyone in my life was telling me that my expectations were probably too high. But I pressed on as if everything was normal. They told me to think smaller, to take things moment by moment, to be okay with needing to sleep away jet lag. They told me it was okay to be frustrated by struggling to find shampoo or figuring out the logistics of getting a transit pass. I was reminded again and again that maybe my cozy Cambridge routine would not work in the bustling Paris metropolis. They said “it’s normal to be uncomfy” because I was doing this BRAND NEW THING (new for me anyway) called “aRcHiVaL rEsEaRcH”. —>But I insisted on waking up early despite being tired. I insisted on sitting at my desk even though all I wanted was to go buy a sandwich and stare at the Seine. I crammed in writing at the end of the day rather than in my morning freshness, succumbing to the weight of “you should be working, you’re here to work” and “you should be having fun, you’re in Paris” warring with one another. (I have since been to the Louvre, as this pic shows, so don’t worry, fun is now being had.)

Everyone was also telling me that it’s normal to set lofty goals, and normal for things to get existential when you arrive in a new place without the distractions and comforts of home. When we dream of having illustrious academic careers (or is that just me? cool cool cool), we often visualize end products: the books we write, the discoveries, the classrooms of students, the awards, the office with ideas bursting at the seams. Those destinations are motivating, but they don’t give any real sense of what the mess in the middle looks like. How will we write the books? How will we make the really paradigm-shifting discoveries? How do we keep students engaged, let alone attract them into our seminars?

(What even is the work of being a scholar, a thinker? What does it mean to write, to actually be a Writer? Why is it so hard?)

I feel like I’ve been cosplaying as a “good” graduate student.

I had no real plan for what the heck I was going to do at the national library. Since the beginning of 2024, I tried almost every week to plan for this trip, and I just couldn’t do it. I had tight deadlines for fellowship applications for next year, and then I had COVID, and then I got a cold a month later, and then oh no my crochet project appeared in my lap again.

But really it just felt too big, and I did not feel ready to advance past go. How could I make it feel smaller, more manageable? For over a decade of my life, I have dreamt about living in a place like this where I could live out my dark academia fantasies, but why was I so scared?

Scared to leave behind friends and to be far away from loved ones.
Scared of outing myself as an ignorant American at the boulangerie.
Scared of this trip being a waste of everyone’s time and money and energy, and that my dissertation would be bad, AND that I wouldn’t get a job because of it, AND this whole thing — this trip, this degree — would have been for nothing.

I cried. I was impatient and antsy. I tried going for long walks but came back home feeling defeated and lost. (Not even the fun flavors of sour candy afterwards helped. *le sigh*) I journaled multiple times a day sometimes, just to make sense of thoughts that kept me awake at night and unable to focus during the day.

But then I was doing weightless arms during a virtual Pilates live class, and my instructor Sarah said something: “Lean in.” // She was talking about the tendency when doing arm exercises to lean backwards, which, sure, eases that burning but also diminishes the strengthening potential. So, when I really leaned forward into that prayer pulse, I felt more muscles activate, and I squealed with joy.

The next day, I went through my digital collection of references from the BnF general catalog. I requested some, chose a couple dates when I would show up to consult some of those early twentieth century newspapers. It was like I blacked out from the overthinking and just did it. And I went not once, not twice, but three times!!! to the archives, where I sat in a slightly too warm room for several hours taking notes, transcribing, creating a spreadsheet, skimming and reskimming the French before translating. It’s really quite mundane stuff, and yet the process gets so built up in our heads.

But the whole time, imposter syndrome screamed: “Why are you so bad at this.” Just like that, not a question mark in sight, as if it was definitive truth.

And somewhere in my deepest of depths, a more confident Cana kept whispering back, “Okay, well, what if I just lean into this discomfort? Being a bad academic is better than not being one at all.”

In doing my best to lean into this feeling of being a “bad” academic, I have been overwhelmed by the waves of goodness pouring over me. I’ve generated over 3000 words for a draft book chapter (yes, I’m reusing some other content, but still!!). I have gotten so much better at listening and speaking French in everyday life. I got positive news about fellowships for next year (!!!), and I got accepted into a conference outside of my discipline for next year. I started running again. I am sleeping better and eating my vegetables. I have even done some ~n e t w o r k i n g~ which helps me feel less alone in the solitude of academic work.
I’m doing the thing, it seems.

When I leaned into that prayer pulse, that slight movement opened a whole range of new sensations that made me stronger. —> This lean-in, too, was a slight but powerful shift. Maybe it’s because the clouds in the Parisian skies have literally parted, and the daffodils are blooming. But there is more texture and color to life these days.

Most mornings, I still wake up and roll around in bed for an hour, rustling up the courage to show up. My journal is full of affirmations about the fact that I am creative, that I am smart, that I do deserve this opportunity to develop personally and professionally, that I’m more capable than I think I am. I am not saying that things have become easier. I am just saying that I’ve become okay with doing them badly and imperfectly.

(That is the work.)

I’m leaning in.

Stay tuned for the next installment of in the weeds, which will give a glimpse of what my journals are looking like these days! In the meantime, please share this newsletter with friends and loved ones who you think would enjoy. And consider pledging a subscription for bonus crop in the future.

Bien cordialement,
Cana<3