Singing the First Year Phd Blues

My pet demon was a sophisticated Siege Mentality. Neither tame nor placid, it knew better than to perch perilously on the fraying rim of my conscience … or that already droopy right shoulder. It howled deep into the night as I lay awake in bed at 3am, adrenaline strobing through my veins.

I finally applied sufficient resolve and a slap-dash of CBT to rationalise the tension away. The little sniveller then metamorphosed into a more malevolent form.

The dark days of Persecution Complex were thus ushered into my already chaotic life. This fire-breathing, rabble-rousing, excessively-headed hydra was dead bent on drawing blood. It's quarry? That fragile and unstable commodity, self-confidence.

I suppose the prescription in this case -as with many things- is, chop chop.