Letting Go

Letting go of the final research project for my degree feels like dropping my child off at daycare for the very first time.  Nervously, I wonder how my child will be received--will she be welcome?  Will she be accepted?  My project feels very much like a child that I've nurtured, coached, and raised from infancy.  Now my attention turns from the carefully crafted autoethnographic words to other projects and people.  Those in academic land hold it and give a mark.  The mark means something, but not everything.  My senses live in completion for the moment and I simultaneously savour its departure and cry for its absence.

Too Much Information?

Today I begin to suspect my reluctance to hand in my final project for graduate school has to do with my tendency to remain a private individual.  My project deals with personal details of traumatic events; I struggle with revealing too much or not enough.  Reality TV says it is ok to reveal everything, but I don't feel that way.  I feel exposing myself 100% cheapens or lessens my traumatic experiences.  My project reveals information that I simply do not want the whole world to know.  I am not ashamed, but my boundaries tell me how far I should go.  And so...I will tell--but not all.  If you ask, I may share, or I may not.  I will let the moment decide.

Procrastination and Me

And so the deadline looms--June 15--and my final research project for my Masters degree still happens to be in the editing states.  I admit that the final throes of the editing process eludes me; I'm on draft #200 and am growing weary of reading it.  Yes, my professor warned that our chosen topic would wear us down--"so pick wisely," she said.  I did.  I'm done.  I mean I'm done in my heart and head--just not on paper.  Of what am I afraid?  Completion?  Forced to end a chapter and start another?  Perhaps.  I notoriously hate endings of things that I love.  Why can't it go on forever?  Maybe I'm not ready to move on.  The date seemed so long ago when I arrived fresh faced and terrified of beginning a masters.  So now I sit and play on twitter and my "Plants vs Zombies" game...anything but editing my final draft.

Getting to Gratitude

The idea of gratitude constantly eludes me.  Why is it so hard? In the midst of bemoaning my lack of freedom and the harm inflicted on me in the past, I find it hard to focus on being thankful with what I already possess.  Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of what it feels like to be content and grateful.  True, I do lack certain freedoms that others take for granted, but they can be won in a court of law.  True, I did suffer harm, but I'm still standing like so many other brave women out there.  True, I have an ongoing issue that may never get resolved, but that makes me stronger. In that moment, I did feel free...nothing could touch me.  I am almost finished graduate school (whew!), rock at wii fitness, and own the ability to combine the emotional with the intellectual.  I danced last night--truly joyful to be alive.  Now, that state will probably come and go, but I will try and hold on to it a little longer...and recognize it when it's here.

A Leap of Faith

A dilemma: Do I quit without an acceptable alternative or stay in a work situation that is harmful to my health?  The conservatives argue "wait until you find a job." But what happens if staying there is harmful to your health...your emotional well being...and you can't find a job.  What happens if you have a child?  What do you do? I'm almost finished a masters degree that prepares me for what?  At this point McDonald's seems like a good alternative.  Will I be the first masters student working at McDonald's? Do I let a job go and trust that another pops into my path? I'm setting the quitting date because now I'd rather work a minimum wage job than live through another day of my job.  I've lived on the street; I've eaten at the food bank.  It can be done.  Why would I risk my emotional and physical health at a job that treats me poorly? Do I make a leap of faith...quit without an another job...and trust that is the right move?

A Graduate Change

What's happening? Why am I questioning...yes, gasp my esteemed professors...the same ones that I cowered in fear when they mentioned the word "paradigm?" Maybe I'm growing up.  Maybe I'm becoming (and I hate to say it) an expert in my chosen area. I'm the person who always downplays her skills, avoids competition, and thinks of failure when a new assignment is posted.  But now...things seem different.  I notice inconsistencies, incongruities, and downright silliness from my professors.  Don't get me wrong...I respect what they say most of the time...but now they seem almost human...and make mistakes like the rest of us.  This knowledge makes me smile, not in a superior way, but in the way that you know a secret...and it feels good.

My other friends...don't

It feels a little lonely without my cohort--especially the ones that mopped up my tears, pushed me forward, and never let me down when I needed help.  Out of the unlikeliest places, I found people--even though so different in temperament--who managed to squeeze into a section of my heart.  I love our online revelations, theoretical musings, frustrations, and delight over our program.  My other friends don't get excited over understanding Foucault, the correct placement of a comma, the completion of a grueling literature review, the success of a team project after spending only a few hours creating the damn thing, the beginning of a new class, a full eight hours sleep, or a killer mark in the most hair tearing out class you've ever had in your life...ever. Maybe they get excited over other things, but I don't know because I'm here in this moment...and soon I won't be...so I think I'll just savour this moment while I can.