Jessica Spence: Extending grace to one’s self is critical in research
Lying on a twin mattress, I tossed and turned over the thick sheets. A frozen water bottle's condensation intertwined with my own sweat on the back of my neck. The mosquito net encompassed my lower bunk of the bunk beds, promising to protect me, but it also blocked every valuable stream of airflow from the single fan in my room. My fever was running a marathon. My best guess as to what made me so sick? Maybe I ate something that was not meant for my stomach biome, but my money was on the water that I accidentally let slip into my mouth during my shower the night before.
Rookie mistake, but I was — embarrassingly — no rookie. This was my third time in Uganda. I had made it through the first three weeks without issue, but now, due to a couple of drops of water, I was quite ill. Thankfully, I had tested negative for malaria that morning, and I was proud of myself for at least getting to the clinic as soon as my symptoms became noticeable. At least in my previous travels, I had learned that this was the true trick — being preemptive about healthcare and asking for help. But I wish I would have learned, a little better, to keep my mouth shut in the shower.
Oh, well, it was too late now. It was late, indeed. Just about 6:00 p.m., to be exact. To be even more exact, I had to be in a hot van, traveling on a dirt road to a destination two hours away, in just 12 hours. The next day was the only day I had to go collect my final data. I needed to interview five women and give them the best attention possible, considering I was asking them for their time for my study. I could not be sick while speaking with them, and missing this was not an option. That would simply be too rude. And, Agnes, my “Uganda Mama,” had very kindly set up this meeting.
Get. It. Together. That is what I told myself, early that next morning, staring at the brown carpet of the van. Focus. Think complete thoughts. Listen to what they say with intent. Show them that you care. Ask good follow-up questions.
Soon after arriving at the Kole village in Northern Uganda, I set up my little recording station behind a red brick building. It was shady and near some bushes. Thankfully the July Ugandan sun was not too tough on me yet. But, gosh, I wanted to throw up and take a nap. I needed to lie down. But I could not. I could not be rude, and I could not mess up this data collection. I was part of a team who had contributed to this project.
My first participant came, spoke to me, shared her story, and grabbed paper and drawing utensils after the interview to begin her prompted drawing. I looked at my phone, shocked to see how little time had passed since we started. I was not aware of much, but I knew I was being a bad interviewer. Had I even asked any follow-up questions? What more could I have asked? My brain felt full of cotton, not insightful thoughts and questions.
I could feel it: This was not my best data collection, and I could not do anything about it. I was very upset with myself.
As I write this, it has been seven months since I got back from Uganda. My health recovered just a few days after the interviews, and my self-efficacy as an interviewer slowly healed as well. I still remember feeling upset at myself but now think it was silly to be angry with myself for being so sick. I do not think my data collection was my best work, but I look at five beautiful drawings by my participants and read their stories with joy. I am appreciative of their time, of Agnes’ time being my translator, and of the insights they gave me into their lives. Their stories will be shared, and the time they spent with me will have direct impacts to improve and further my research — research that I hope helps them, in return, one day.
I remember feeling like I let my team down and hoping my co-researchers did not judge how short my interview was or feel disappointed in the work I did. But they were not. I was, indeed, my own worst critic. I was so hard on myself — and for what? Being sick? Committing to my plans despite being sick?
These couple of days in my life provided two big lessons: (1) I need to give myself grace, and (2) research can be messy. Would those interviews have been different if I had been well? Probably. Would they have been different if the weather that day had been an intense rainstorm instead of pleasant? Also yes. Both things are out of my control. In fact, almost all of it is out of my control.
But I showed up, did my best, and reflected on how I could do better. That is really all we can do, at the end of the day.