When I began the graduate school application process I tried to maintain the belief that no matter the outcome, “good” or “bad”, that it had nothing to do with my ability to write or my value as a writer. I probably should have taken it to the next level and said that it had nothing to do with my value as a human being, because ultimately it doesn’t.
Grad school was to me was about what I valued. I value education. I enjoy becoming educated. Academia is my home girl. However, I do realize that there are non-conventional ways of receiving the education I desire, and if it ends up that those are the avenues I have to stroll down that it is okay. The sting of my experience comes from valuing the means of getting my education more than I do the education itself.
There is a balance I seek to find between my desire to achieve and the realization that my achievements do no supersede my humanity. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me wanting to succeed, but that success should not come at the expense of what really matters, my life and happiness. Looking back over the last few months I can see that I have been highly driven, but not exactly enjoying my life, even during times that were intended to be enjoyable.
I’m entering an easier phase of surrender as I continue to raise my white flag and wave it at Tisch Asia (the game is not entirely over, but it appears to be a blow out). At this point, I’m not too clear on “what’s next”. I’m still feeling some residual yuckiness, but I know it is dangerous for me to live here. I want to hide because I am embarrassed and ashamed, but I won’t. Instead I’ll volunteer to be the fool that is brave enough to fail fantastically and be willing to tell the tale.