PTSD, coping mechanisms, self harm

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This one's for the experimentalists

I am increasingly convinced that the reason labs are so often located in the basement has nothing to do with technical reasons (weight of equipment; minimising vibrations; etc) and is instead 100% concerned with convincing you that you will never see the sky again.

(Lab is 15degC and falling. I have at least an hour to go. Group pub outing started twenty-five minutes ago. And it is still the case that I really love my job.)

[accidental poem] a feeling (well past bedtime)

this is my job: to say "I don't know; let's find out"
to delight in the possibilities of ignorance
to own my whole self, my joyful unknowing
to tease out the best questions I can ask
(fingers gentle through hair or soil or water)
and trusting follow where they lead,
because nothing is ever truly wasted
(or everything is -- in the end, it's all perspective).

but first-- o, first: I had to achingly unlearn
the fear & doubt I'd been so patient taught
as though their absence could erase the thoughts
that penetrate & permeate my mind.

pray do not tell our children: be afraid.
pray do not teach them shame. instead
let them rejoice, for "I don't know"
is not an end: it's a beginning,
the first step down the branching paths
that lead inexorably home.