Good evening my neighbors!
I’m back and happy to be here. Did I try to call in sick today? Sure did. That’s the beauty of consistency — you show up even when you do not want to.
Before you get too excited, let me bury the lead by letting you know that I am NOT pregnant. I’m not expecting a child, but I am EXPECTING to graduate in 2025! In 2019, I threw myself a baby shower-themed farewell party to celebrate my acceptance into my PhD program. The picture above shows the moment I popped a balloon to reveal the school I’d be attending in the fall. I admit, the reveal was over the top, especially considering I only had one option. However, that day, I decided I was worthy of being celebrated. We ate. We laughed. We swag surfed. One of my besties even sprayed me with cash. Pure. Enjoyment. For those two hours, I was over the moon. I did it. I was going to deliver on the commitment I made to my parents to pursue the highest degree in education — a doctorate.
During the time between my farewell party and orientation, I envisioned what my experience would be like in grad school. “Finally, I’ll have time. Time to do the things I couldn’t do when I was teaching. I’m going to read and reflect on what I’m taking in. I’ll work out. I’ll decorate my first solo apartment.” My expectation for my learning experience was even more delusional. I pictured myself in a classroom with students just as eager as I was to be there, philosophizing about education and how to translate our ideas into practice. I was excited to meet my advisor (a Black woman!) and was ready for her to teach me about how to be her protege. It was like another day at Target — I bought everything that was sold to me during orientation about the joys of graduate school.
During orientation and eventually the first week of classes, I felt much like Akeem felt when he first landed in Queens from Zamunda. Grad school was nothing like what I expected. My excitement about reading waned with every syllabus. The only thing I had capacity to take in was the definition of words I looked up to translate the reading. It baffled me that some articles named the importance of equity, inclusivity, and accessibility using language that was mostly inaccessible. The real shocker was that the primary goal of an academic is to develop theory. Implementation is secondary if considered at all. Not to mention, I spent the first two months with my mattress on the floor, because where was I finding the time to order a bed frame?! And aside from one or two intellectually stimulating classes, many of my classes were like a handful of the classes I’ve experienced throughout my 19 years of schooling — uneventful. My advisor was amazing. Unfortunately, she left after my first year. I have cultivated a beautiful relationship with my current advisor, but at the time, losing my first advisor was heartbreaking. Y’all, I haven’t even mentioned the impact of COVID-19, which began my second semester of school, but that deserves a separate blog post.
I felt bamboozled. hoodwinked. Led astray. I knew grad school would be challenging but I expected so much more from my experience. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. There is a part of me that looks back at the older version of me with frustration. I could have found better ways to spend my time if I would have picked my jaw off the floor a lot sooner. Afterall, my experience, while unfortunate, was not surprising. In my line of work, I have been in enough professional spaces to know and expect some level of dysfunction, disorganization, and mediocrity. I should have seen this coming. Thanks to therapy, there is another part of me that has compassion for the past version of me and the current version of me who gets frustrated with her. My disappointment was valid and the way it stole my ability to be present is frustrating. I’m holding space for my disappointment. I’m holding space for my frustration. I’m even holding space for my delusion. In the end, without that delusion, I would have never agreed to come back to the state I swore I’d never live in again: to spend six years getting another degree that wasn’t essential to furthering my career goals.
When I hold space for all of my emotions, even when it does not feel good to feel them, it helps me to see myself with more clarity and enables me to move forward from a place of acceptance. This type of peace gives me the capacity to envision how I will apply the lessons learned from my experiences in the future. For example, as I begin the process of writing my dissertation, I am releas(ing) (emphasis on the “ing” because it’s a process) my need to anticipate what the experience will be like. If it’s anything like my other experiences, it will probably surprise me in beautiful and challenging ways. However, I can set expectations for who I want to be/how I want to be in this process.
I want to embrace feedback as a tool for improvement and not an indicator of my self-worth.
I want to be disciplined and consistent with my writing practice. That means I show up five days a week, completing drafts to process my ideas and revising to refine them.
I want to ask others for help when I need it.
I want to make myself a priority by setting boundaries with myself and others with love and accountability.
I want to take breaks and get sleep- lots of it (7–8 hrs/day).
I want to be discerning as I make important decisions, leaning on God’s wisdom first before consulting others.
Like all of my writing, this list is subject to revision. I encourage you all to join me in this exercise. Think about a goal you are committed to achieving this week, month, year, etc. Who do you want to be/how do you want to be during the process? How will this impact the person you become when you achieve that goal?
With love and gratitude,
Mimi