my life

A Letter to My Younger Self About Dealing with Rejection in Academia

November 21, 2015 sauvikGrad life, Musings

Hi, younger me. You don’t know this yet, but the path you’ve chosen is one of brutal, unrelenting rejection. You’ve coasted through everything you’ve done in life so far. But you’ve met your match in academia. Everyone here is just as smart, if not smarter. They’re just as hard working, if not more so. Hence forth, your peers will be some of the most intelligent, creative and driven people in the world. They’ll be your greatest source of inspiration and intellectual stimulation. But they’ll also be your greatest competition. For every paper you write, fellowship application you submit, and job application you assemble, you will be competing against others who are just as smart, hard-working and motivated as you.

You won’t succeed right away. Every first author paper you write in your first year of graduate school will be rejected. Most first author papers you write in your second year of graduate school will be rejected. The constant rejection will get to you. Thus far, you’ve derived a lot of your identity from being “smart” — or even the “smartest” — but it’ll be hard to hold up that identity when you see everyone else around you succeeding but have nothing to show for your own efforts. You’ll question whether you belong. And even when you start succeeding, you’ll continue failing, a lot, in between each success.

Here’s the thing: academia is all about rejection. No one ever tells you that before you make it to graduate school. From the outside, all you ever see is the cutting-edge interaction technique, clever algorithm or insightful study that wins awards, is picked up by the press, or gets cited a thousand times. And from the inside, all you ever see is tweets and Facebook posts about how everyone else is winning awards, being featured by the press, or getting cited a thousand times. But the truth is that lying in shadow of each of those amazing accomplishments is the crushed dreams of a thousand baby graduate students.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point. Don’t misunderstand, though. I’m not here to tell you to run away from this life. For all the ego shattering, academia can also be wonderfully fulfilling. Because once you (finally) taste success, you’ll realize that there is nothing sweeter. Instead, I’m here to give you some advice on how to productively deal with rejection. You may as well experiment with the advice: I can assure you that you will have plenty of opportunity.

1. Don’t take yourself (or your reviewers) so seriously

Sometimes, it will feel like your reviews are a personal affront to your character. It will feel like you’re the subject of a 4chan smear campaign. And, to be fair, you might feel this way because many reviewers are just complete tools.

But, remember, it’s not about you. Your reviewers don’t know you, and wouldn’t even if they saw your name. It’s also not about them, though you might argue that they probably did not receive enough love from their mothers.

Your reviews may not be fair or accurate, but that’s not because you’re a bad or stupid person. It could be because the reviewer is a bad or stupid person, but it probably isn’t.More likely, there was a legitimate issue that you had not considered in your work. Mostlikely, you were not able to adequately communicate your message. And even if it’s neither of those and the reviewer was simply a bad and stupid person, that’s okay. You’ll make your paper better just by having more time to think about its potential weaknesses. And your work will be better for it.

2. Remember that you don’t need to sprint

There’s another reason, aside from the ego-shattering, that you’re afraid of rejection. You think you need to sprint to the finish line — whatever that is. For every paper you don’t publish now, you’re falling behind the illusion of your ideal self and your peers. By year 2, you’re supposed to have 6 publications. By year 3, your h-index should be 8. By year 4, you should have won a Turing award.

Then comes along this rejection — this little, nagging thorn on your side that surfaces all of your insecurities. Its gets in the way of your grand vision. It pushes back your Timeline to Greatness by several, precious months.

But you’re not in a dash. You’re in a marathon. If all goes well, you have another 30-40 years to do great research. So what if your paper didn’t get in to CHI 2012? Think about how inconsequential the difference between ‘CHI 2012’ and ‘CHI 2013’ will look 10 years from now. Keep in mind that your true purpose is to do great, timeless work — publishing is just a reflection of that.

3. Focus on process, not outcomes

I know, I know. “Don’t take yourself so seriously” and “You’re not in a race” is cliche advice that is easy to give in retrospect. The reality of the situation is that timing sometimes does matter. Winning a best paper your first year could open up networking opportunities early in graduate school. In turn, you might have more time to build and foster important relationships that can help you get your dream job later. In that respect, it’s definitely better to publish in CHI 2012 than CHI 2013, if you can.

But here’s the thing: One way to definitely not do good work is to psyche yourself out by thinking about how little time you have. A great way to definitely not win a best paper award is to take short-cuts so that your potentially great work becomes minimally publishable work.

In other words, don’t focus on the outcome of your work. Don’t muddle your mind with the number of papers you need to publish at CHI, or how many best paper awards you can rack up before you graduate. Focus only on the process. Focus on doing good work. Everything else will follow. I promise.

4. Know that it’s not just you

Right now, you probably think that you’re an especially spectacular failure. You probably think that you’re the only one with nothing to show for all that time you invested. But, you’re not. About 20% of papers submitted get accepted. There are definitely more people who feel like you, right now, than like the person posting on Facebook about how 4 of their papers got accepted.

While we’re on the topic, though, don’t be jealous of that person either. Be happy for them. They’ve probably felt the same feelings of inadequacy that you are currently feeling, but they’ve managed to work through those feelings and experience great success. Don’t resent that. Celebrate it. One day, that’ll be you.

5. It’s okay to feel bad about this

Remember that feeling sad is perfectly fine. It sucks getting rejected. It really, really sucks. You poured so much of your time and soul into producing this 10-page document, and to hear that it’s not good enough is crushing. And it should be crushing. Don’t fight that feeling. Accept it. Learn from it. Then harness it to do better. Use it as your fuel.

6. Embrace, don’t fear

Right now, you fear rejection. Things have always gone your way, and you’re afraid of the consequences of failure. Rejection sucks, yes. Failure sucks, yes. But don’t fear rejection or failure. The more you fear rejection, the less likely you’ll be to expose yourself to opportunities that can change your life for the better. You’re eventually going to win best papers, have the press cover your work, get cited a bunch of times — everything you’ve always wanted. But none of that is going to happen if you fear rejection enough to quit. Embrace rejection. Revel in the challenge. If there was no risk in putting your work out there, there would be no reward.

Parting words

Okay, younger me. I have to get back to working on our thesis. It’s going to be epic, and, no, it has nothing to do with what you think it will be. Remember that rejection is not the end of the world. Remember that it’s okay to feel bad about getting rejected, but that it’s not okay to be so resentful of rejection that you quit or become the tool-ish reviewer you despise. Do that, and you’ll do just fine.

http://makewritelearn.com/rejection-letter

First ark social

My team won the first ice breaker and got a gift each. Wonder woman has found her new home.

Wish it had been the Black Widow though.

Good start to the week

more lessons

I am having an amazing lent. To recap, this is what I've learned so far from fasting from negative thoughts:

1. I have a lot of negative thoughts.

2. When I come across a problem I can't solve, I obsess about it constantly, and it doesn't help. TV does help to break that loop, hah.

3. I need to learn space-holding. (See below.)


http://heatherplett.com/2015/03/hold-space/
(accessed Feb 19, 2016)

What it means to “hold space” for people, plus eight tips on how to do it well

By Heather Plett on March 11, 2015

When my mom was dying, my siblings and I gathered to be with her in her final days. None of us knew anything about supporting someone in her transition out of this life into the next, but we were pretty sure we wanted to keep her at home, so we did.

While we supported mom, we were, in turn, supported by a gifted palliative care nurse, Ann, who came every few days to care for mom and to talk to us about what we could expect in the coming days. She taught us how to inject Mom with morphine when she became restless, she offered to do the difficult tasks (like giving Mom a bath), and she gave us only as much information as we needed about what to do with Mom’s body after her spirit had passed.

“Take your time,” she said. “You don’t need to call the funeral home until you’re ready. Gather the people who will want to say their final farewells. Sit with your mom as long as you need to. When you’re ready, call and they will come to pick her up.”

Ann gave us an incredible gift in those final days. Though it was an excruciating week, we knew that we were being held by someone who was only a phone call away.

In the two years since then, I’ve often thought about Ann and the important role she played in our lives. She was much more than what can fit in the title of “palliative care nurse”. She was facilitator, coach, and guide. By offering gentle, nonjudgmental support and guidance, she helped us walk one of the most difficult journeys of our lives.

The work that Ann did can be defined by a term that’s become common in some of the circles in which I work. She was holding space for us.

What does it mean to hold space for someone else? It means that we are willing to walk alongside another person in whatever journey they’re on without judging them, making them feel inadequate, trying to fix them, or trying to impact the outcome. When we hold space for other people, we open our hearts, offer unconditional support, and let go of judgement and control.

Sometimes we find ourselves holding space for people while they hold space for others. In our situation, for example, Ann was holding space for us while we held space for Mom. Though I know nothing about her support system, I suspect that there are others holding space for Ann as she does this challenging and meaningful work. It’s virtually impossible to be a strong space holder unless we have others who will hold space for us. Even the strongest leaders, coaches, nurses, etc., need to know that there are some people with whom they can be vulnerable and weak without fear of being judged.

In my own roles as teacher, facilitator, coach, mother, wife, and friend, etc., I do my best to hold space for other people in the same way that Ann modeled it for me and my siblings. It’s not always easy, because I have a very human tendency to want to fix people, give them advice, or judge them for not being further along the path than they are, but I keep trying because I know that it’s important. At the same time, there are people in my life that I trust to hold space for me.

To truly support people in their own growth, transformation, grief, etc., we can’t do it by taking their power away (ie. trying to fix their problems), shaming them (ie. implying that they should know more than they do), or overwhelming them (ie. giving them more information than they’re ready for). We have to be prepared to step to the side so that they can make their own choices, offer them unconditional love and support, give gentle guidance when it’s needed, and make them feel safe even when they make mistakes.

Holding space is not something that’s exclusive to facilitators, coaches, or palliative care nurses. It is something that ALL of us can do for each other – for our partners, children, friends, neighbours, and even strangers who strike up conversations as we’re riding the bus to work.

Here are the lessons I’ve learned from Ann and others who have held space for me.

1. Give people permission to trust their own intuition and wisdom. When we were supporting Mom in her final days, we had no experience to rely on, and yet, intuitively, we knew what was needed. We knew how to carry her shrinking body to the washroom, we knew how to sit and sing hymns to her, and we knew how to love her. We even knew when it was time to inject the medication that would help ease her pain. In a very gentle way, Ann let us know that we didn’t need to do things according to some arbitrary health care protocol – we simply needed to trust our intuition and accumulated wisdom from the many years we’d loved Mom.
2. Give people only as much information as they can handle. Ann gave us some simple instructions and left us with a few handouts, but did not overwhelm us with far more than we could process in our tender time of grief. Too much information would have left us feeling incompetent and unworthy.
3. Don’t take their power away. When we take decision-making power out of people’s hands, we leave them feeling useless and incompetent. There may be some times when we need to step in and make hard decisions for other people (ie. when they’re dealing with an addiction and an intervention feels like the only thing that will save them), but in almost every other case, people need the autonomy to make their own choices (even our children). Ann knew that we needed to feel empowered in making decisions on our Mom’s behalf, and so she offered support but never tried to direct or control us.
4. Keep your own ego out of it. This is a big one. We all get caught in that trap now and then – when we begin to believe that someone else’s success is dependent on our intervention, or when we think that their failure reflects poorly on us, or when we’re convinced that whatever emotions they choose to unload on us are about us instead of them. It’s a trap I’ve occasionally found myself slipping into when I teach. I can become more concerned about my own success (Do the students like me? Do their marks reflect on my ability to teach? Etc.) than about the success of my students. But that doesn’t serve anyone – not even me. To truly support their growth, I need to keep my ego out of it and create the space where they have the opportunity to grow and learn.
5. Make them feel safe enough to fail. When people are learning, growing, or going through grief or transition, they are bound to make some mistakes along the way. When we, as their space holders, withhold judgement and shame, we offer them the opportunity to reach inside themselves to find the courage to take risks and the resilience to keep going even when they fail. When we let them know that failure is simply a part of the journey and not the end of the world, they’ll spend less time beating themselves up for it and more time learning from their mistakes.
6. Give guidance and help with humility and thoughtfulness. A wise space holder knows when to withhold guidance (ie. when it makes a person feel foolish and inadequate) and when to offer it gently (ie. when a person asks for it or is too lost to know what to ask for). Though Ann did not take our power or autonomy away, she did offer to come and give Mom baths and do some of the more challenging parts of caregiving. This was a relief to us, as we had no practice at it and didn’t want to place Mom in a position that might make her feel shame (ie. having her children see her naked). This is a careful dance that we all must do when we hold space for other people. Recognizing the areas in which they feel most vulnerable and incapable and offering the right kind of help without shaming them takes practice and humility.
7. Create a container for complex emotions, fear, trauma, etc. When people feel that they are held in a deeper way than they are used to, they feel safe enough to allow complex emotions to surface that might normally remain hidden. Someone who is practiced at holding space knows that this can happen and will be prepared to hold it in a gentle, supportive, and nonjudgmental way. In The Circle Way, we talk about “holding the rim” for people. The circle becomes the space where people feel safe enough to fall apart without fearing that this will leave them permanently broken or that they will be shamed by others in the room. Someone is always there to offer strength and courage. This is not easy work, and it is work that I continue to learn about as I host increasingly more challenging conversations. We cannot do it if we are overly emotional ourselves, if we haven’t done the hard work of looking into our own shadow, or if we don’t trust the people we are holding space for. In Ann’s case, she did this by showing up with tenderness, compassion, and confidence. If she had shown up in a way that didn’t offer us assurance that she could handle difficult situations or that she was afraid of death, we wouldn’t have been able to trust her as we did.
8. Allow them to make different decisions and to have different experiences than you would. Holding space is about respecting each person’s differences and recognizing that those differences may lead to them making choices that we would not make. Sometimes, for example, they make choices based on cultural norms that we can’t understand from within our own experience. When we hold space, we release control and we honour differences. This showed up, for example, in the way that Ann supported us in making decisions about what to do with Mom’s body after her spirit was no longer housed there. If there had been some ritual that we felt we needed to conduct before releasing her body, we were free to do that in the privacy of Mom’s home.

Holding space is not something that we can master overnight, or that can be adequately addressed in a list of tips like the ones I’ve just given. It’s a complex practice that evolves as we practice it, and it is unique to each person and each situation.

It is my intention to be a life-long learning in what it means to hold space for other people, so if you have experience that’s different than mine and want to add anything to this post, please add that in the comments or send me a message.

Hair thingy

I showed up to work with my hair sticking out the other day and my Korean colleague gave me this funny looking hair clip. It's meant to be used while blow drying hence the holes.

You learn something new every day.

Cny candy

I felt gypped because there were only two gummy candies in the tin. I thought it was a big box of mints. But I guess I paid 7hkd for the tin.

a reminder for myself

Thankful for the church women God has put into my life for this season. In alphabetical order:

Carmen M
Elaine W
Fifi Y
Katy C
Karen C (while she was still in the city)
Kaz
Sarah R

They are all so different in their temperaments and gifts, and I guess that's how they help me see God's world in all its different facets. I'm thankful they're patient with me.

Firsts

Lai see from the ang moh boss. So sweet.

CNY

I was supposed to stay in town so I could get work done. But all I seem to be doing is sleeping, eating, and watching TV. In the office this afternoon on the first day, but haven't done anything yet. Okay, just two hours, then I get to go home. Only two hours!!

Buh bye

Warming up to me on the last day. He followed me around my tiny apartment and kept trying to get me to play tug of war.

Damned allergies.