Time Warp

Frequently I find myself starting at my reflection in the mirror, unable to recognize myself anymore. The grey streaks of hair, the dark circles under my eyes – who is this person? Surely, I am not this old yet. It’s not that I find 27 to be old by any stretch of the imagination, but rather, my shock comes because it feels like time hasn’t moved over the past six years. Certainly, I am still just 21, fresh and wide-eyed out of undergrad, because I have nothing of accomplishment to indicate that six years have slipped past.

Looking around me, I accept that my friends are moving up in the world. They have new jobs they love, new promotions and pay raises, and are starting to accumulate the signs of achievement – purchasing a new car, moving to a better apartment or making the down payment on a house, having children. Friends who, in the amount of time I’ve been going into the same lab everyday and trying to force my protein to cooperate in the exact same assays, have held a job for several years, left to go back to graduate school, and returned to a different job. Friends who are already on child number two. Friends who discuss monetary investments and where to purchase property and retirement funds. And yet, there is nothing to indicate my passage of time. On the contrary, it’s like I’m moving backwards. I started out graduate school with a roommate. A few years later, I found myself married with a husband… who shortly left for residency in Philadelphia. I spent a year living on my own, and now find myself back to square one, living with a roommate, informing the surgeon’s receptionist that no, even though most individuals bring a spouse to the consult, I will be attending alone because for all intents and purposes, I am single once again (note: this has nothing at all to do with my husband not wanting to be there, but rather, the inability for him to take time off to travel to DC).

Husband’s best friend’s wife mentioned over a cookie baking session this fall that that they have decided to “pull the goalie.” A recent conversation with said best friend implied, though did not directly state, that his wife is pregnant. If it is the case, I am thrilled – overjoyed even – that they will be expanding their family. When I look at them, I see so many milestones of achievement. He went to graduate school and earned his first masters’ in New York City, then returned back to Philly, worked for a few years, and is now back in school again for a second masters’ degree. She has been through two lucrative jobs and recently left to start her own business as a personal chef and is thriving while completely loving what she does (a novel concept). Now, they are working on expanding their family. Both their lives are marked with achievements, personal and professional, indicating their successes over the past several years.

I look in the mirror and see grey streaks of hair and dark circles, but what I cannot see are the accomplishments that I find in all my friends. Six years into graduate school and I have no first author papers, and none coming up in the pipeline. I cannot even make a remote guess as to when I will graduate, other than to assure you that it will not be this May. Because I have no first author papers, I have no job prospects for after graduation. Not residing in the same state as my husband, there is no point in even discussing things like purchasing property or having children. I wonder, at which fork in the road did I make the wrong decision, and wind up stuck in this time warp of unachievement? Because certainly, a time warp must be the only explanation – I cannot possibly really be 27 and yet still be stuck exactly where I was at 21.