Challenge: The 365 Day Adventure

I put my dissertation on hiatus. Yes, I have a complete draft but the doctorate no longer uplifts me. I love to learn, but the doctorate doesn’t feed that love. I'm de-registered so the decision doesn't affect my status, only my priorities. I may return to the doctorate after some maturation but then again, I may not.

I am starting my own business and learning from the ground up. I decided to create a challenge to work towards and to motivate as well as move into a better place mentally, The end goal professionally is to train myself in graphic design and editing so that I can work as a freelancer. Personally, I want to combine these skills with my passion for storytelling and create a graphic novel.

The Challenge

Starting 16 May 2016 (I like Mondays for beginnings), I will dedicate the next year of my life to training in graphic design and editing by using only free resources. This includes online videos, forums, websites, as well as the local library for print and e-text sources. The goal is to see what is available and take advantage of public resources in order to self-educate. I will make regular updates here to show what I learn and share what I find.  The end date is 12 May 2017.

The Resources

My current list of resources, both online and offline:

Lynda.com (Note: This is a paid service but I received a free account.)

Youtube (A surprisingly fantastic resource for self-education if you're willing to search.)

Bibliotheque Nationale du Quebec (public library)

Westmount Public Library (Note: I pay for a membership already.)

DeviantArt (Not sure what I'll find here but it's worth a try.)

Facebook.com (To use friends and family for initial contacts and early graphic design projects)

Advantages

A huge part of this experiment is possible due to the emotional and financial support from my significant other and life partner. I am able to dedicate myself full-time to this endeavor without worrying about the roof over my head and nourishment. Having a supportive and loving partner is an enormous advantage that is difficult to detail in just a few words.

I have bachelor's and master's degrees, and am ABD (all but dissertation) with my doctorate. Whatever frustration I may feel towards my Ph.D. candidacy, I am skilled in research and self-education. I know how to budget my time, how to work without supervision, and how to motivate myself.

I have experience writing academic non-fiction and I have a background in art (art history, illustration, art theory). Further, my bachelor's required several semesters of business classes. have some education with business even if I have never applied these skills.

I am physically healthy and do not suffer from any chronic (physical) conditions. English is my native language, I live in a wealthy country with decent public health care, and have no disadvantages brought about through my appearance.

Disadvantages

I have never run a business.

I have no formal training or education in graphic design or editing.

I will only use free resources and deal with independent  learning.

Part of what lead me here is my own struggle with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Clinical Depression, Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I’m Adrian Monk but decidedly less useful. I've been in and out of therapy, been through the gauntlet of treatment plans (including pharmaceuticals), received medical extensions for my education, and dealt with the fatigue and defeat all the above brings. It took a toll on my social and professional life as well as my personal conception of self. Communication has been increasingly difficult over the years and it's a struggle learning to put myself out there, even in simple ways with those I consider friends. This is my starting point but also what I hope to be a journey towards  wellness. I decided to re-frame this as the opening chapter for a learning adventure,.

Endgame

By documenting this challenge for the next year, I will show what is possible through Internet learning and public resources. I can see what progress I've made in a year and motivate myself through the use of this blog.

This is a treatment plan for my own problems. If it inspires you in some way, go for it! It is, however, not a blueprint on how I think others should behave. Everyone has their own journey and this is  mine.

Meditation: The Honest Guys

Meditation is an important aspect in the recovery and management of my mental health. Therapists and guides recommend mindful meditation, a practice which I do. However, I find that as a storyteller, guided meditation is more relaxing and achievable. At times, I create my own guided meditation sequences using music and imagination for a peaceful time-out. After going through a number of apps, cds, and sites (paid and unpaid) that the works by The Honest Guys are by far, the best. And they are absolutely free. (A good sign as I have a general distrust for mental health wares peddled on the Internet.) They have a presence on YouTube, Spotify, iTunes, and CDBaby. They update once a week on Tuesdays and provide a variety of meditation tools. And yes, as a fantasy and Tolkien fan, I discovered them through their Middle Earth Meditation series. Here are two of my favorites, one from the Middle Earth series and the other focused on healing and peace.

I listen to “The Cleansing Pool” when I have back pain or am getting ready for bed. I usually fall asleep before the end.

One of my favorites in the Middle Earth Meditation Series. I like how “Lost Valley of the Elves” begins in a familiar setting and moves you into the lost valley.

(As a side note, I am in no way affiliated with or have been asked/paid to endorse The Honest Guys. I find them genuinely helpful and will always note if and when I have been approached to advertise.)

Storytelling and Signs

Everyone is a world. I am many worlds: a watcher, a voyeur into possibilities, probabilities, and potentials. With the development of self was the development of story. I dreamed worlds; I breathed stories. I straddle the line between realms, right foot planted here and the left dancing in otherworlds.

I struggled to listen to the Here. I learned to stress and strain, to pull myself out of dream so that I might listen to you. That connection- the thread that connects us- I’ve tried finding it but it’s only through stories that I feel it.

The pace can speed up or slow down. There are times where I fight Dream. Other times, he has hidden away and I am lonely. When I can no longer tell the day or hour, when I no longer rise from bed as tied to stories as I am – that is the beginning of depressive episodes.

Or when the worlds turn bleak and I cannot escape the possibilities of disaster, the permutations of dread and trauma. That is when anxiety creeps in and I fill my head with lists and numbers because they are the only things that bore the hungry dragon to sleep.

I couldn’t write. For two years, my voice diminished and I lost the ability to speak in any way that mattered. Or I should say, I wrote, but then, locked in the quest for perfection, I strangled myself through repetitive self-edits and rewrites. I stared at a fifty page proposal on my desk, each day reading the first paragraph, trying and failing to uncover the correct wording.

I went on medication. The worlds faded and died. I could function but I couldn’t feel. I turned in that proposal and tried to move forward. The anxiety and depression were gone but so was everything else. Without the worlds, life was pointless.

I went off the medication.

For a while, I was fine. The dreams returned. I functioned. The darkness crept in bit by bit: a panic spell here, a day of counting there. But I felt whole. I pushed the black creatures down into murky wells where I refused to look.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave my home or eat food normally. In the worlds, it was Armageddon. It was Ragnarok. My blood turned to lava, coursing through me, burning me from the inside.

Uterus Low by Amy Goh.

Well-meaning armchair physicians and snake-oil gurus had a million cures. Quick fixes that relied on mystical Asian wisdom (had they ever even visited Asia?) or bootstrap American promises (Seriously, I should magic wealth into existence?). Had I tried yoga? Maybe I have a vitamin deficiency? Exercise cures everything. Oh, I exercise already? Had I thought about upping the amount to eight hours daily? I wasn’t allowed to say no. None of it helped. One by one, the stars were going supernova.

I didn’t want medication. I wanted the pain to end (and yes, it was abundantly physical), but I also couldn’t abide by the death of stories. I told him – trepidation in my voice, of course – there is always the fear of getting labeled with Something Really Awful. Tales of electro-shock treatment and self-flagellation. (And before you armchair psychologists give yourself a pat on the back for diagnosing me I am definitively not schizophrenic, schizotypal, or any other word beginning with schiz. Sorry to burst your bubble. You’ll just have to go back to consulting your pop psychology guides). But he did not dismiss the importance of dream, of my ability to navigate the ethereal. Gently, he offered alternatives and for the first time, they worked.

The worlds remain with me. I am discovering my voice once more. I can write, I can reach out. I sleep and I dream.

(This post also appears in the artist collective zine, K4K, where all the cool cats are.)