by the end of the third year of my phd program, i was beginning to show external signs of hitting my stride: nearly finishing my course requirements, having a first-author paper accepted at a major conference, generating my own promising (if meager) research ideas. but internally, i was a trainwreck. i spent most days in the office doing nothing but doomscrolling. the very thought of opening up my in-progress proofs or writing some inference rules on the whiteboard spiked my anxiety to such an extent that the ensuing headache made work all but impossible anyway.
maybe it was my grandiose expectations of myself conflicting with my lack of field-redefining work. maybe it was covid’s isolation that prevented me from picking up good grad student habits by osmosis. maybe it was the weight of my increasing disillusion that tech could ever do any good in the world. maybe it was just burnout.
my varied attempts to fix the situation while continuing to come to school each day had failed, so i knew i needed something else. i took leave.
half a year later, i’m don’t think i’ve solved anything. but i have begun clawing something back: joy.
i started my batch at the Recurse Center this week. everyone is excited about what they’re building and learning, and everyone is excited by everyone else. no one interrupts a presentation to ask, “didn’t Robin Milner solve this in the 80s?”
i’m building things that have been built before. i’m learning things for my sake. i’m believing that tech can be neat. i’m regaining control over my mind.
i don’t expect RC to be a cure-all. a loving community is a pretty good start, though.