c:

Throughout my years in college, I pursued volunteer opportunities and unpaid internships, rather than paid work. I was part-time during college, and so I graduated in about double the average time. It took me about eight years, instead of four. I took on about two classes per semester. I was actually registered with the disability office during much of college; I have a psychiatric disability that I’m currently dealing with. I was diagnosed with a certain psychotic disorder when I was a young teenager.  

I feel that it was wise of me to avoid work obligations during undergrad; it might have taken me even longer to graduate, with a part-time job diverting my attention a little. I was absolutely without a doubt in the wrong academic program too, and so I sort of suffered slowly, through it. I shouldn’t have been in the humanities; I needed something more intuitive and hands-related, to suit my style of learning and working. But I don’t regret my undergrad. The grass is always greener on the other side, I guess. If I had done something technical and vocational during undergrad, I might have been going back now for something humanities or social science-based. You always feel that you should be doing something other than what you’re currently doing, or that you should have chosen something other than what you’ve chosen. I think Sylvia Plath was the one who said that she wanted to choose a fig to eat from a fig tree, she wanted to pick one and eat it; “and as she stood there, unable to decide on one, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and one by one, they plopped to the ground at her feet.” This scenario, this scene from one of her poems, is a metaphor for the phenomenon of becoming paralyzed by fear of making the wrong choice. Regret is difficult to overcome, which is why we try to avoid it in the first place, I think. (I had first heard this reference to Plath’s poem in a TED-Ed video, on youtube).

While I was in school, I had been somewhat involved with literary editing; I was a staff member with my school’s undergraduate lit. mag for a little bit, and I was a beta reader for one of the graduate literary journals. But I had left both of those positions prematurely, and I had attributed this decision to “having to focus more on my schoolwork, and on my studies.” But I see now that the editing and beta reading roles themselves were rather difficult. I mean it’s hard to read something on assignment, on obligatory assignment. I can only read complex or long-form pieces on my own time, and when there’s no expectation to share my thoughts and edits on it, or anything like that. Well actually; I probably can provide a fairly useful edit on something every so often, once in a while. But I can’t do that on demand, or repeatedly; on schedule. And this is what I was initially going to college for; I was planning on becoming a developmental editor and magazine editor. When I saw that this field is difficult for me (and that this niche is kind of saturated and competitive, anyway), I broadened my scope to include grant writing, nonprofit fundraising, library science, teaching elementary school ESL, and etc. I’ve left all of that these days; I’m exploring more intuitive and media-production- based things, like videography and postproduction video, filmmaking. |

Even though I haven’t earned much income in my life so far, I have done some volunteer activities and I have completed my bachelors, and these two things have shown me where I likely don’t belong. I’ve been shrewd enough to take note of my response to certain stimuli, certain real-life experiences like volunteer activities and college work, college assignments. You know, I don’t know whether it’s my medication that I’m currently taking for my psychological condition, like a side effect of them; or whether it’s due to a type of neurodevelopment problem that accompanies my condition, the overall mental disorder that I take meds for, and that I treat with meds…I’m not sure. I don’t know what it is precisely, but I really do think I have a type of discombobulation going on. It might be a side effect of my meds. But I’m slow, slower than the average person. I know that mental health problems aren’t really related to intelligence, they’re not an indication of IQ or anything. But I’ve heard that psychotic disorders (schizophrenia, and etc.) share some sort of common gene or linkage with neurodevelopmental disorders; the two abnormalities might be more related than previously expected. I’m not sure if this is true, but hey. Sometimes these mental issues share some common patterns in the way they manifest. They’re not the same kinds of conditions by any means, but they share some similar genetic or biological (or behavioral) traits, which might suggest a common thread in some way. (And so things like severe mental disorders and neurodevelopmental conditions are not the same, but they might share some common biological or behavioral attributes, which might suggest some commonality between them. Recognizing this similarity might help with tailoring better treatment and coping strategies for either one, for either group of developmental/psychiatric conditions.)

---

I think a lot of people have found themselves in the same situation I’d described, above. E.g., a person had studied biology or chemistry during undergrad, but then s/he found that her main interest is actually in psychology, in helping people work through their mental health problems, and helping to manage diagnosable conditions and disorders. And so s/he might have to go back now for like, a certificate or some other program, for genuine education and knowledge in psychology and psychological assessment and practice. *I often feel that life is a journey to understanding who you are, what you are good at, and what you like to do. Certain moves that you’d made in the past might seem like a mistake in hindsight, but it likely helps orient you in the right direction. You just have to learn from it and take the right steps, from now on. I feel like life itself will adjust and correct you, as you walk along; your gut instincts will correct you. |

I’m happy that I’ve done a lot of housework and errands for my home/family, in addition to figuring out that the education (schooling) I’ve done in the past wasn’t right for me. I’m happy I’ve gotten into the habit of trying to keep up a home; I think I might have been of some genuine help for the past five years or so, while I struggled through school. I’ve always looked up to homemakers and caretakers; it’s a very important role. It’s more important than bringing home a paycheck, in many ways. I often feel that society should do a lot more to help with the financial question, the “earning a living” question; but finding someone to provide a loving and supportive home while taking care of the basic necessities of life is rare.

I’m trying to find part-time work as a receptionist, these days. I’m trying to volunteer in my neighborhood, too. I’m also in an online class for video editing, film/video editing. I live at home right now, but I’m thinking of getting my own place in a few years, once I’ve gotten my finances together some more.

Wooden Walking Stick

Friend, you are Moses. I the wooden
walking stick. Sometimes that simple use.

Other times, a dragon earth-energy. You
decide. There’s no time or place in the air

you inhabit. The days you give me I give
back to you. I have seen your unseeable

beauty and taken report without words to
my heart, which became all eye with the news.

“Long life to eyes,” says my heart now over
and over. Hundreds of candles search the

turning sky. No bread in the basket, no
money; home, family, work, in shambles, with

your light shining on the ruin. Crushed
in grief’s mortar, let me be medicine for

other eyes. What is the soul? Half a leaf.
What is the heart? A flower opening. I am

not the one speaking here. Even so, I’ll
stop. Anything anyone says is your voice.

–The Glance: Songs of Soul-Meeting. Rumi. Translated by Coleman Barks.