Learning to Bloom in Adversity

As the second week of my Fall semester comes to a close, I've been reflecting on my collegiate journey. More than just remembering good times, new friends I made, or anything else, I'm reflecting on how I managed to graduate with an A.A. degree, then a B.A. degree, and now trying to obtain my Master's degree. It all seems too good to be true at times and I've had the odds stacked against me; I'm a first-generation college student (neither of my parents obtained anything more than their high school diplomas), multi-ethnic, bisexual, female, and... I'm disabled.

A Little Background on Me

During my senior year of high school, I had several abnormal health concerns arise, and after being shuffled around to more doctors than I could afford at times, I finally was given a list of things that were "wrong" with me:

• Fibromyalgia
• Lupus
• Costochondritis
• Chronic Migraines
• Psoriasis
• Vasodepressor Neurocardiogenic Mediated Syncope
• Depression
• Anxiety
• PTSD

This was a rough time for me. Here I was, fresh out of high school, and I felt like I had switched bodies with an 80-year-old dying person. It was a dark time in my life; hopelessness, loneliness (you'd be surprised how many friends you lose because you can't go out & be active anymore), and many other feelings overwhelmed me. Consumed me. I did not think I could be "normal" ever again. Looking back, I know that younger me didn't understand that this was my new "normal"; all I had to do was get used to it. I did, however, figure out some good things through it all, things that can help take care of me, including accepting the fact that I needed to use a mobility aid. I got my first cane at the age of 18, not too long before I turned 19. I got my first wheelchair at 20. The idea of going to school was daunting to me; having to walk everywhere, people staring at me because I'm so young and I'm using devices that their grandparents or great-grandparents use... I almost didn't want to get any form of higher education, but I pushed through. I kept registering for classes and attending them because I had no idea what else to do with my life at that point. I was in no position to work any sort of "normal" job; what else was there to do other than to take up the job title of "full-time college student"?

Getting Ahead of Myself

After obtaining my A.A. degree and moving onto my Bachelor's, I began to get cocky. I had been told my academic writing surpasses that of some Master's or Ph.D. students (I personally still don't believe so). As an undergrad, that is something that is very morale boosting. I tried not to let it get to my ego, but it did. I was able to sail through my Bachelor's undergrad program with flying colors, even with my disabilities. Of course, there were days where I'd be absent due to flare-ups, but those days did not prevent me from still acing papers, quizzes, tests, etc. I felt so accomplished when I graduated with my Bachelor's; I proved to myself that I was able to juggle my chronic illnesses with a "normal" life and I couldn't have been happier with myself when I walked across that stage and shook hands with the president of my university. I was also overconfident when I got accepted into grad school, thinking to myself, "This will be a piece of cake!"... oh, how naive I was. As time got closer to the semester actually starting, I began taking orientation classes and going over how the program worked with my advisor. The week before seminars began, my confidence slowly dwindled and I entered my first semester of grad school with more self-doubt than I'd ever had before.

Reality Check

My graduate program considers three seminars to be full-time (nine credit hours) and for anything to count toward the degree, I am not allowed to get anything lower than a final grade of B-. Last fall was my first semester; I ended up with an A, B, and B- ... barely made it. I also had to take one of those as an "Incomplete," meaning I had until a certain date after the semester had finished to turn in my final paper; basically, it's like a really long extension. Last fall was the roughest semester of college I had ever been through up until that point; I had flared up more than I had in a long time, had almost constant panic attacks, worsening depression, and more migraines than normal. It was just awful. I came back in the Spring thinking I could do better... Once again, I was naive. I ended up dropping one seminar three weeks after the semester had begun and elected to take "Incompletes" for my other two seminars—only to be forced to medically withdraw instead, reaching my limits.

In my opinion, this was something that needed to happen, as unfortunate and disappointing as it was. I've been go-go-go ever since I got sick. I dual enrolled at my local community college at the age of 16 while still in high school. After I graduated high school, I only had one year where I decided to take a summer off. After that, for about four years straight, I have been attending school full-time; Spring, Summer, Fall... rinse and repeat. I believe I did myself a disservice by graduating with my B.A. in the Summer and beginning my M.A. program immediately in the Fall with no break in between. I did not have an adequate amount of time to properly prepare myself, not only as a student but also to converse with my doctors and figure out perhaps some new regimens that would help keep me afloat throughout the school year. I ended up pushing myself too hard; going past breaking points, but not letting myself accept that it's ok to have limits, or it's ok to not be able to attend school as a full-time student anymore. I let my internal ableism get to me, allowing myself to believe that I had to perform just as well as the other "normal" students in order to be successful, that I couldn't allow myself to take a break because I have to graduate within a certain time frame in order to be considered successful, that if I missed a seminar because of my illness, I would be hated; I once again could not have been more wrong. I am a lucky gal to have such a supportive and understanding faculty within my department. Not every disabled college student can say the same, and I recognize my privilege.

Present Understanding

Bringing it full circle, I have just finished only the second week of my second year being an M.A. student. I'm doing a lot better in every area; fewer flare-ups, being able to manage my mental illnesses... It's honestly a great time for me. I've accepted my limitations, and through the university's Student Disability Resource Center, I have been accepted to have an accommodation to take reduced coursework without losing my status as full-time, which means I can still get financial aid and that's pretty sweet.

I know now that I have to do more than I thought I did in the realm of preventative measures and over-preparing in order to be as successful as possible with the chronic illnesses I deal with on a daily basis. What I do may not work for everyone and I understand that. We all have to find what works for us and it takes time. I can't honestly say I was taking care of myself to the best of my ability before now. Even though my grades would tell you differently in undergrad, there were moments I was worried I'd fail and push myself even harder, consequently flaring up and missing the next class I had. Whatever the situation, I now know this one truth: if you're willing to do whatever it takes to succeed, you also have to be willing to do whatever it takes to take care of yourself no matter what. Self-care has never been instinctual for me, but this life experience has given me the insight I need to be a better person academically, as well as mind, body, & soul.

Finding Balance

I grew up with the "classic" Disney movies (like any other good early 90s baby did) and my all-time favorite has to be Mulan. For a multitude of reasons, I identified myself with Mulan; as a young mixed girl with part Japanese ancestry, Mulan was the first East Asian "princess" that I could look up to as a kid (Don't worry, I won't get into a schpeel on how representation matters, that can be for a different article). It's become a staple that I watched it at least four to five times a year, mostly for a comfort/nostalgic reason, but also when I need some motivation. Having watched it again recently, the quote that The Emperor tells to Shan-Yu after Mulan saves China resonated with me:

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

I know it's pretty much the quote from the movie and everyone uses it in everything all the time, yeah, I get it. However, at this stage in my life, it spoke to me on a different level than before. Compared to where I was at this time last year, I can assuredly say that I have indeed bloomed in adversity. I don't think I've bloomed completely, but the process has begun and I am learning to bloom. But then, to hear Fa Zhou tell Mulan a similar sentiment not too long after The Emperor's own hit me like a brick:

My, my. What beautiful blossoms we have this year. But look! This one's late. But I bet that when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of all.

It's ok to be "late." In whatever capacity that means in your life situation, it's ok. I was so pressed on being able to graduate next year within the 2-year ideal window of my graduate program, but you know what? It's ok that I'll graduate the following year because that's when I can be at my best. I can be at my most beautiful of all. I need to take care of myself in order to reach that part of me. Otherwise, I'll never get there. I need to make sure I start earlier on readings and research so I don't burn out my body and flare-up. I need to make myself take it day by day, little by little, so I don't get overwhelmed with everything I have to accomplish for my seminars; and all of that is ok.

Our society has such a toxic way of invading our thoughts and making us believe we have to fit this certain timeframe in order to be seen as successful. In part of my learning to bloom in adversity, I'm also learning to ignore adversity. I can recognize that it's there, but its sole purpose is to push me to a higher place. I have to dig deep and persevere, but I also need to take care of myself; moreover, I have to find the balance between the two. I've always looked up to Mulan as a little girl, but as an adult, let alone an adult in graduate school, I think I'll end up admiring her more than ever before. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch Mulan again instead of starting on my assigned readings for next week. #selfcare