July 13th, 2018 to Present. Musings of Mental Illness.

In this post, I will be referring to the events of July 14th, 2018, my personal communications erg. my diary. During this time I was working for Keck Graduate Institute as an Interim Corporate Partnership Coordinator.

There was an organizational restructuring happening as this once smaller graduate school expands from a falter organization into a bureaucratic organizational structure.

Meaning they were adding new departments and graduate programs to their organization and thus they acquired a lot more people. As organizations scale up coordinator and technical integration positions are vital to sustaining organizational growth in a healthy way.

I bring this up now because I was relieved when I was kicked out of my graduate program that day, July 2018. I was able to relax because I had an interim job and a long-term contract that could have led to more, but hey that’s life.

Diary Excerpt from the Summer of 2018

A lot has changed.

I have been officially kicked out of grad school. My petition to the academic satisfaction, or whatever you call that department, was rejected. This was my 4th petition and the only one to be rejected.


It feels so good. I had planned on asking to take the summer and fall off, if possible. I just want to work, I just want to recharge and stop the paralyzing numbness of my current distress. I’m good at working. I’ve never had a hard time getting a job.

Regardless, I need to be done with grad school. I understand why people leave after a semester or two. You have to have the right resources and available cognitive faculties.

Even with resources, it’s difficult to come back from a C, 70 percent. With un-address mental illnesses there to make life unbearable, my fight to tread water weighed down my self-efficacy and self-confidence. But I learned a lot.

I couldn’t perform in that environment with the level of distress that can consume my being. I did retake and pass some of the courses I had previously failed, but still, it simply wasn’t enough. I couldn’t. I can’t, but I will move forward and go back to graduate school with all of the knowledge and introspection I have today.


Now it’s November 19th, 2018.

I let of off all of my fear, I have to try to move. I have to shake off the weight of ill-fitted metrics of success.

I can breathe.

I can rebuild.

I can live now.

I’ve grown as a person and learned what it is to have mutually healthy relationships.


I’m stronger now, I’m a stranger to the past because of who I am as a person.

Because I’m in tune with my own desires and the craving for rest and stability that I need.

So, I can move again.

My shoulders are still fettled by mental illness. There is this invisible posture posed for a dancer’s frame, this frame is the intended effects of mood stabilizers. I have half of the medication I need that along with medical marijuana I feel the tugs of the dancer’s frame. See a picture illustrating such a device, it’s all standard and what have you. With meditation, mindful medical weed use, hiking, painting, and yes blogging. All of these are spine straightening poster correcting offenses.


Blogging has been instrumental in ordering my experiences in a healthy and constructive way. For example, here I’m reflecting on getting kicked out of a program that I battled to contain myself within.

The day I left my program I was content to just work. To put in 8 hours a day, not 10 not 15. To really rest.

I’m so happy that I don’t have to go back. The thought of going back gives me such a panic sorrow gage response. My body is telling me to chart a different course, to heal for once, to rest.

It’s November 19th, 2018.

I’m going to listen, I’m going to rebuild.

I have to heal forward.

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