tea anyone?
After 2 hours of non-stop typing and mouse clicking .. I have successfully completed the rest of the massive pile of data entry! All in all I think I spent about 4 hours in total to key in 56 questionnaires. Aaaahhh now to sit back and enjoy a nice steamy cup of ultra sweetened tea.
A couple of weeks back, I answered an ad from the King's College Psychiatric Unit requesting for someone to help out with some data entry for a research project there. I figured, since I've got time on my hands and practically no relevant work experience to speak off... might as well. Plus, it would give me a chance to practise my SPSS skills acquired after 2 years of uni. Obviously using the term 'skills' here in a very loose sense. More importantly, I realised it was an opportunity for me to force myself to go out to a new environment, where I would have to face and interact with new people. So after a day of agonising over all the possible scenarios that could go wrong, I sent of an email to apply for the job , half - hoping that I would be too late and that someone else would have beat me to the punch. As luck would have it, the researcher in charge of the project replied almost immediately. She was extremely enthusiastic and seemingly grateful that someone (patsy)was willing to take on the work. She arranged to meet me the following Tuesday. O.K. Big gulp. Travel to an unknown part of London. By myself. Wasn't too keen on that.
Thank god for friends. I didnt' mention it at the time but I was as nervous as hell, and this was a whole WEEK before I actually had to make the trip. Reg told me to "go for it" and how I should get out and do stuff as she couldnt stand seeing me at home all the time. Sounded painfully like my mum at that point. Po ai helped me plan out the route and figured out a bus for me to take. Ironically , the bus never showed and I ended up taking the train and turning up roughly a 1/2 hour late for the meeting.
Anyway, yeah.. as usual all these thoughts were in the back of my mind , nagging me, telling me it wasnt too late to back out. Probably to all of you out there , this may seem such a ridiculous and trivial event to get worked up over. I mean, it even sounds dead stupid to me. As much as I'd like to be able to say that just realising that its a stupid fear is enough to overcome it, well it isnt. Loath as I am to admit it, forcing myself to get out of my room and to go outside to do anything involving strange and unfamiliar people.. is a big deal for me. Even everyday things like trips alone to the supermarket. It drives my mum and dad insane. Its fine if there's someone with me, oddly ,I feel that all the attention will diffuse away from me and be absorbed by the other person. And I'll just fade away into the background and be able to get on with my day. Reality is though, I'll be alone more often than not, and I can't expect my friends and family to be there holding my hand every step of the way.
When I think of all the things I've missed out on because of this, its nothing but an ever increasing mountain of regrets. No musical performances because I literally freeze up at the thought of playing in front of someone else. No sports for fear of looking like an idiot in public. When I need to buy something , I'm literally in and out of the shop in a matter of moments. God forbid I have to speak to a sales person. Even the simple question " Can I help you?" drives out sensible coherent thought and induces panic. Usually I mumble something and get my ass out of the store asap. Walking around in public is usually an exercise in pavement scrutiny. Not such a bad thing if you ask me. Found my fair share of loose change lying around.
Tuesday comes around. As I said, I made it to the Institute late, but Dr. Antonova didn't seem too miffed by that. In fact, she offered to buy me lunch as it was her lunch break by the time I got there anyway. I was horror - struck . Have lunch ? Here? In a cafeteria full of strangers WITH this lady whom I just met a minute ago ? Maybe I let the silence linger for too long between the offer and the reply she expected of me. She repeated her offer to buy me lunch, or if I was in a rush, we could skip that and just head straight to her office. Guiltily realising that it was only because I was late that this had come about at all , I agreed. Rather than queue up for the hot food options, I grabbed an egg sandwich. Which turned out to be dry as the desert. While she went for the full works; veg, fish and mash . She obviously didnt approve of my choice of food. " I've never eaten a sandwich since I graduated. I've learnt to respect my body," she stated. I just nodded and felt awkward as we sat down at a table next to some of her colleagues.
I tell myself repeatedly they arent staring at me hostilely or with pure disgust, just out of natural curiousity. I hope. I don't fail to recognise the irony of the situation; I am surrounded by psychiatrists and there's nothing they can do about me and vice versa.
Made it through lunch. In which Dr.Antonova waxed philosophical about the rationale behind the project, using terms which my mind was too clouded to comprehend at the time. It seemed that everytime it was my turn to keep up the conversation.. my mouth was full of dry egg sarnie. The embarrassment. For some reason, the topic turns to the history of psychology. I cast my mind back to the first year intro psych lectures and scrabble frantically in the dusty cupboard of memory for something intelligent to say. She did finally get around to the perks of the job. The "what's in it for me" side of things. Contingent on her project getting approved for a research grant, is a pay of 8.50 pounds per hour retrospectively. She estimates it will take about 100 hours of data entry on my part. I nearly choked on my sandwich as I did the mental arithmetic. A possible 850 pounds. It didn't seem fair. Too good to be true, it certainly was. Turns out its rather unlikely the grant will be handed out. Ah well. In which case, I get my name mentioned in the credits when the papers get published. Probably in fine microscopic print.
We head to her office in another building. Great. Its started to rain. She presents me with a large brown leather briefcase, jam packed with questionnaires.
"Don't let anything happen to this. It's extremely precious, " she admonishes.
Me, still experiencing mind-wipe , lamely asks " Err the briefcase? Are you sure you want to give me that.. I mean.. I can stuff them into my backpack" as I gesture vaguely to where I think my backpack is. Apparently in the corner where her trashbin sits. In actual fact, its where you'd normally expect a backpack to be. On your back.
She blinks.
" no..no.. not the BRIEFCASE. the papers!" she explains . Probably thinking.." great i've just entrusted my baby to a bumbling idiot who eats crap for lunch and who thinks my trash bin is her backpack"
A few brief moments go by while she explains the format she'd like me to key the data in. Sounds easy enough . Jubilation. I can go home now. I head towards the bus stop, massive briecase clutched to my breast. The damn thing doesnt have any handles. I haven't got any free arms to get my umbrella out. An hours bus ride later ..and I'm back in familiar suroundings and safely ensconced in my room. Reg comes to ask how it went, sweet person that she is ( and also completely realistic about the nature of my stats abilities) offers to help if I get stuck on the SPSS - statistical side of things. ;)so far so good.. havent had to bother her yet.
Lately I think I'm starting to feel braver. I' ve started doing things that are totally out of character . Joined a face painting class. Got involved in KEEN. Gone out shopping by myself a few times. My brother is surprised. He wants to know why I've suddenly become 'pro-active' as he puts it. My mum sounds pleased and secretly relieved I think. Its been a struggle for her all these years with me. Sure it's not like I've accomplised anything major or even faintly commendable. Still though, I feel a little proud of myself, deserved or otherwise. It's taken nearly 10 years, I 've got a lot of catching up to do.
Now, its time for another cup of tea.
A couple of weeks back, I answered an ad from the King's College Psychiatric Unit requesting for someone to help out with some data entry for a research project there. I figured, since I've got time on my hands and practically no relevant work experience to speak off... might as well. Plus, it would give me a chance to practise my SPSS skills acquired after 2 years of uni. Obviously using the term 'skills' here in a very loose sense. More importantly, I realised it was an opportunity for me to force myself to go out to a new environment, where I would have to face and interact with new people. So after a day of agonising over all the possible scenarios that could go wrong, I sent of an email to apply for the job , half - hoping that I would be too late and that someone else would have beat me to the punch. As luck would have it, the researcher in charge of the project replied almost immediately. She was extremely enthusiastic and seemingly grateful that someone (patsy)was willing to take on the work. She arranged to meet me the following Tuesday. O.K. Big gulp. Travel to an unknown part of London. By myself. Wasn't too keen on that.
Thank god for friends. I didnt' mention it at the time but I was as nervous as hell, and this was a whole WEEK before I actually had to make the trip. Reg told me to "go for it" and how I should get out and do stuff as she couldnt stand seeing me at home all the time. Sounded painfully like my mum at that point. Po ai helped me plan out the route and figured out a bus for me to take. Ironically , the bus never showed and I ended up taking the train and turning up roughly a 1/2 hour late for the meeting.
Anyway, yeah.. as usual all these thoughts were in the back of my mind , nagging me, telling me it wasnt too late to back out. Probably to all of you out there , this may seem such a ridiculous and trivial event to get worked up over. I mean, it even sounds dead stupid to me. As much as I'd like to be able to say that just realising that its a stupid fear is enough to overcome it, well it isnt. Loath as I am to admit it, forcing myself to get out of my room and to go outside to do anything involving strange and unfamiliar people.. is a big deal for me. Even everyday things like trips alone to the supermarket. It drives my mum and dad insane. Its fine if there's someone with me, oddly ,I feel that all the attention will diffuse away from me and be absorbed by the other person. And I'll just fade away into the background and be able to get on with my day. Reality is though, I'll be alone more often than not, and I can't expect my friends and family to be there holding my hand every step of the way.
When I think of all the things I've missed out on because of this, its nothing but an ever increasing mountain of regrets. No musical performances because I literally freeze up at the thought of playing in front of someone else. No sports for fear of looking like an idiot in public. When I need to buy something , I'm literally in and out of the shop in a matter of moments. God forbid I have to speak to a sales person. Even the simple question " Can I help you?" drives out sensible coherent thought and induces panic. Usually I mumble something and get my ass out of the store asap. Walking around in public is usually an exercise in pavement scrutiny. Not such a bad thing if you ask me. Found my fair share of loose change lying around.
Tuesday comes around. As I said, I made it to the Institute late, but Dr. Antonova didn't seem too miffed by that. In fact, she offered to buy me lunch as it was her lunch break by the time I got there anyway. I was horror - struck . Have lunch ? Here? In a cafeteria full of strangers WITH this lady whom I just met a minute ago ? Maybe I let the silence linger for too long between the offer and the reply she expected of me. She repeated her offer to buy me lunch, or if I was in a rush, we could skip that and just head straight to her office. Guiltily realising that it was only because I was late that this had come about at all , I agreed. Rather than queue up for the hot food options, I grabbed an egg sandwich. Which turned out to be dry as the desert. While she went for the full works; veg, fish and mash . She obviously didnt approve of my choice of food. " I've never eaten a sandwich since I graduated. I've learnt to respect my body," she stated. I just nodded and felt awkward as we sat down at a table next to some of her colleagues.
I tell myself repeatedly they arent staring at me hostilely or with pure disgust, just out of natural curiousity. I hope. I don't fail to recognise the irony of the situation; I am surrounded by psychiatrists and there's nothing they can do about me and vice versa.
Made it through lunch. In which Dr.Antonova waxed philosophical about the rationale behind the project, using terms which my mind was too clouded to comprehend at the time. It seemed that everytime it was my turn to keep up the conversation.. my mouth was full of dry egg sarnie. The embarrassment. For some reason, the topic turns to the history of psychology. I cast my mind back to the first year intro psych lectures and scrabble frantically in the dusty cupboard of memory for something intelligent to say. She did finally get around to the perks of the job. The "what's in it for me" side of things. Contingent on her project getting approved for a research grant, is a pay of 8.50 pounds per hour retrospectively. She estimates it will take about 100 hours of data entry on my part. I nearly choked on my sandwich as I did the mental arithmetic. A possible 850 pounds. It didn't seem fair. Too good to be true, it certainly was. Turns out its rather unlikely the grant will be handed out. Ah well. In which case, I get my name mentioned in the credits when the papers get published. Probably in fine microscopic print.
We head to her office in another building. Great. Its started to rain. She presents me with a large brown leather briefcase, jam packed with questionnaires.
"Don't let anything happen to this. It's extremely precious, " she admonishes.
Me, still experiencing mind-wipe , lamely asks " Err the briefcase? Are you sure you want to give me that.. I mean.. I can stuff them into my backpack" as I gesture vaguely to where I think my backpack is. Apparently in the corner where her trashbin sits. In actual fact, its where you'd normally expect a backpack to be. On your back.
She blinks.
" no..no.. not the BRIEFCASE. the papers!" she explains . Probably thinking.." great i've just entrusted my baby to a bumbling idiot who eats crap for lunch and who thinks my trash bin is her backpack"
A few brief moments go by while she explains the format she'd like me to key the data in. Sounds easy enough . Jubilation. I can go home now. I head towards the bus stop, massive briecase clutched to my breast. The damn thing doesnt have any handles. I haven't got any free arms to get my umbrella out. An hours bus ride later ..and I'm back in familiar suroundings and safely ensconced in my room. Reg comes to ask how it went, sweet person that she is ( and also completely realistic about the nature of my stats abilities) offers to help if I get stuck on the SPSS - statistical side of things. ;)so far so good.. havent had to bother her yet.
Lately I think I'm starting to feel braver. I' ve started doing things that are totally out of character . Joined a face painting class. Got involved in KEEN. Gone out shopping by myself a few times. My brother is surprised. He wants to know why I've suddenly become 'pro-active' as he puts it. My mum sounds pleased and secretly relieved I think. Its been a struggle for her all these years with me. Sure it's not like I've accomplised anything major or even faintly commendable. Still though, I feel a little proud of myself, deserved or otherwise. It's taken nearly 10 years, I 've got a lot of catching up to do.
Now, its time for another cup of tea.