My silence is my departure

I could write about many things today from being in an open relationship, to the shame of emasculation, or the pain of emotional investment, or even the feeling of obligation within a relationship, etc. But today, I choose to write about what silence means to me. 

In the past, I've yelled and I blamed you for many things. I've thrown tantrums and sent you long text messages and emails explaining my pain and anger. There were times I would leave to the other room in the middle of the night because I was hurting. I also cried countless of times because of something you said or done. But you shouldn't have worried about any of those things. They were all displays of my imperfect love. They were all cries for your attention and they were all exhibits of how much I love you. 

What you should worry about is when my responses become one word answers, worry when I no longer fight with you about what you say, and worry when I stop crying, when I stop talking and when I stop reacting. Because this means you’re no longer worth the fight, you’re no longer worth the anger and your flames that used to burn my passion have now turned to ash.

Please know, that my silence is more dangerous than my words, my silence can hurt much more than my words ever will. My silence means you’re no longer the one who’s occupying my thoughts and you’re no longer worth the noise. Because, you see, I love the written word, I live for words, I can keep writing words for the rest of my life because they describe my emotions, because they come from my heart, because they represent my depth and because they’re honest.

But I hate silence. I’m not comfortable with the words left unsaid, with feelings left unattended and hearts being neglected.

My words are my love, my silence is my departure, it’s the beginning of the end. My silence means I stopped caring, my silence means you don’t deserve my words and that I’m giving up the fight for us and on you. My silence is a response to your silence. It’s how I get even with you. So no, this is not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of my strength because this will force me to sit in the silence and process. 

With that, you shouldn’t have feared our heated arguments, the ways I tried to show you who I am, the tears I couldn’t hold back because you meant the world to me. You shouldn’t have feared them, instead, you should have appreciated them, they’re all the ways I wanted this to work, they’re all the ways I tried to fight with you because I wanted to fight for you.

But the day it all stops; the day when everything goes quiet; the night you hurt me and I smile; the night you annoy me and I don’t respond, these are the moments when I'll know that my silence was becoming less and less bearable. Because it means I’m ready to go, it means I’m ready to leave and it means I’m ready to disappear. 

Sadly, this is the case now. I had told you once that my time is the most valuable gift I could give someone and now I have to give myself that time. The worst part of this is, regardless of my silence, I still have to be okay with the fact that you've begun talking to someone new. 

It gets worse before it gets better - to be bald and beautiful

This is probably the most difficult blog I've forced myself to write. Not because of what happened, but because of the aftermath and its consequences. To this day, I still feel the hurt this experience has caused myself, my friendships, and my relationships.

CONTENT WARNING: Rape and Sexual Assault.  this is about sexual assault and my process of getting over it.

Shock. Disbelief. Embarrassment. Shame. Guilt. Powerlessness. Denial. Anger. Fear. Anxiety. Depression.

These are just some emotions that I have felt after the incident occurred. In May of 2016, a week shy of my Master's graduation ceremony, I was sexually assaulted. To this day, I have a difficult time talking about it and calling it rape. Through the guise of working in student affairs and being a support system for students who have experienced sexual/domestic violence, I thought that I was untouchable and immune to such an incident. How naïve I was to think this...

That evening I had gone out with friends and brothers. We were celebrating the company of one another and ended up in downtown Denver. Drink after drink, shot after shot, we consumed an unimaginable amount of alcohol. This was a typical night as a student at DU. However, it ended in a drunken stupor across town. We visited multiple clubs and bars, danced our asses off, and as the night went on, I also became more promiscuous. I flirted with many, I kissed more than two, and I ended up dancing with you. Our eyes continued to catch one another on the dance floor, our bodies touching, and our lips connecting. But all of this was a blur to me. The day after, I was told that I was enjoying it. 

As we closed down the dance floor, we took an Uber back. I remember laying on my bed and you crawling in. I remember how my clothes were slowing being taken off. But what I remember the most was the guilt of saying no; of coming up with every excuse I could come up with to say no. You started off caressing me and kissing me. And slowly but surely you took my body and power. There was no protection during this intercourse and I couldn't move - I could no longer say no - I was frozen with fear and regret. So many thoughts were racing through my mind as you shook me to my core yet I was no longer able to speak. After this happened, we laid there in silence and you fell asleep. I was awake the entire time - contemplating and reflecting on how I got to this point. To blatantly put it out there - I was sexually assaulted by a friend - someone a trusted and cared for. This is the most daunting part of the whole ordeal. He was a friend. 

Shock – Immediately after the incident, I felt so numb. The next morning, I left my apartment calmly, leaving my perpetrator still asleep. I did not cry. Why couldn’t I cry? I got into my car and drove off to work. I recall breathing heavily as I drove to the mall. 

Disbelief – On my drive to work, I asked myself whether that really happened. Like a cassette tape, I tried replaying the events of the evening. Trying to find the moment I took a wrong turn.

Embarrassment – As I parked at the mall to bring myself back to the present, I began thinking what will people think of me? I can’t tell anyone? How did this happen to me – me?! 

Shame, Guild, Denial, Fear – I feel so dirty, like there is something wrong with me. Like I was plagued by a mysterious sickness. I am so afraid of so many things. Will I get an STD? Can people tell me what’s happened to me? Will I ever want to be intimate again? Will I ever get over this? I’m afraid I’m going insane. I immediately called a friend to process this and that's when I began crying. I blamed myself for this happening. I was the reason this occurred - at least, that's what I told myself.  Throughout the day, I thought, if only I had... I even considered that it was just a one night stand, we’re friends, I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. What’s a hookup in the gay community anyway? And with this thought, I tried to convince myself that it was just that. I was moving in a couple of weeks so there was need to ever go back to this experience. I can bury it, right? 

Powerlessness – Will I ever feel in control again? A large piece of who I am was taken from me – my agency and my voice.

 "It gets worse before it gets better." 

Anger, Anxiety, Depression, & Isolation. These were some things that I went through these past two years. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt others. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted the power back that I lost without permission. I trusted no one and I was skeptical of others. To this day I feel the consequences of this experience and I often times have flashes of this memory - reminding myself that this could happen at any given time...again. 

And now we come full circle.

Many male survivors go on to have depressive and suicidal tendencies, problems with relationships, psychological disorders and trust issues. As part of the LGBTQ community, I realize that people within this community face higher rates of poverty, stigma and marginalization, which put us at greater risk for sexual assault. We also face higher rates of hate-motivated violence, which can often take the form of sexual assault. Moreover, the ways in which society both hypersexualizes LGBTQ people and stigmatizes our relationships can lead to intimate partner violence that stems from internalize homophobia and shame. These are things that I am sensitive to. These are the things that I constantly carry with me in spaces that I'm in. Most importantly, these experiences have allowed me to gain my voice again. 

Other experiences of being assaulted at Denver Pride 2017 and other encounters have caused me to distance myself from my friends and family. The shame I still feel for having this happen to me is unbearable. As someone who advocates for safe spaces, I still feel a sense of pain. I'm slowly processing these emotions and hopefully by writing about it, I am able to address it and move on....hopefully. With some reflection with my therapist, I am able to face my issues and shed some light on why I lost many friendships and no longer trust people immediately. For me in particular, sexual abuse carries a level of shame and stigma undercutting the very notion of my masculinity long after the incident had passed. I am wanting to move forward...and this is how I am doing it.

I am moving forward - in confidence, in self-assurance, and in power. 

Unapologetic and relentlessly honest.

Writing has always been a sort of escape for me. A way for me to process my reality and to remember them somehow. We often reflect back on where we've come from and think about what we want to accomplish. But in doing so, we often leave out or forget specific instances from those moments -- I don't want to do that. I want to make sure that I remember how I felt and what I thought about. So here's to the process and here's my attempt at understanding life as I navigate through spaces. 

Similarly to archaeologists, when they uncover lost civilizations and they unearth these worlds that have long since been destroyed, you know what they find most often? They find stories: ancient languages, words, inscriptions from people who have been gone for thousands of years. Because chances are they, like you and me, wanted to know, what's the point? And they wanted us to know that they were here. They told stories and they tried to make sense out of their lives and their worlds and their tragedies. So that's what I'm hoping to do. 

I want to begin writing again - about everything and anything. I want to write about my memories, my passions, my goals, and my journey through life.

The following quote has always stood out to me:

"We often put pen to paper in times of devastating tragedies and we try to make sense of it. Maybe we'll find clarity in some of those words. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find peace. And more often than not, writing about our experiences help to free us from the chains that we placed on ourselves." 

As I sit here in a local coffee shop, I am making a promise to myself that I will continue this blog and share my experiences with people. For too long I've hid behind private blogs and feared criticisms from people and in doing so, I became comfortable sitting back and silently watching. I am not perfect, nor is my writing. But it will be helpful. Whether to myself or to someone else. It will be helpful. And I need to remember this. 

So here I am - unapologetic and relentlessly honest. My name is Jeffrey and I've always aspired to be a writer so here I go. Thank you for reading and I hope you come back and share my experiences with me. 

Confronting Myself

These past two quarters I had the opportunity to take two classes that allowed for critical self reflection: Inclusive Excellence in Organizations (IE in Orgs) and Critical Race Theory (CRT). These classes made me realize some things that I am ashamed of. But in realizing this, I feel that it is my duty as an academic and as someone learning to be an activist to be transparent in my growth. 

Nearly three months ago I decided to go on a hiatus from all things social justice. I thought I was practicing self care in doing this but in reflecting back on why I decided to do that I have come to realize that I was running away from myself.

This blog post is not about me wanting empathy from others nor do I want people to justify that taking a break is necessary. 

NO.

I am using this blog to publicly state that I am guilty of many things. 

I am guilty of upholding a white supremacist system and perpetuating the stereotypes of the model minority myth. 

I am guilty of using my privilege as a cis-gender male, an Asian American and Pacific Islander, and a temporarily able-bodied individual to walk away from issues of discomfort, especially around race. 

I am guilty of using school and work as a crutch to dismiss myself from critical conversations on campus. 

I am guilty of perpetuating anti-blackness; of being a racist, a sexist, an ableist, and an ageist. 

And in confronting these identities I am publicly coming forward as having to struggle against these ideologies 

EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. OF. MY. LIFE. 

Everyday I face an internal struggle of addressing my privileges; of choosing my battles; of attempting to be part of the fight when in reality I felt like a fraud. Not an impostor within the academy but a fraudulent activist. I saw (and sometimes still see) racial issues through a lens of selfishness. I often times caught myself thinking, "what would I gain from participating in this" or "would this make me look like a good ally if I attended this event or spoke out about this issue." In thinking this, I forgot that being an ally is not a self-proclaimed title. I was selfish in why I wanted to participate in certain events. For example, I was easily able to post my opinions on facebook but once someone commented, I backed away from the conversation, often times waiting for one of my activist friends to respond. In person, I was uncomfortable discussing the murders of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and many others. I was able to have neutral conversations with people about these issues, but I was never able to dive deeper than making a general comment of "these are tragedies that are products of the world we live in." 

As protests spread across the US and hostility towards a legacy of racialized police violence, I continued to remain silent and admittedly, out of touch. At the pinnacle of student activism across the country, I decided to take a break from social justice to focus on school and work. Being involved felt 'too overwhelming' and my selfish ways did not allow me to sacrifice my precious personal time to address these issues. Instead, I practiced 'self-care' and decided that there were others who were better equipped to address the national crisis...after all, I was just one person. 

So inevitably, I excused my silence and my self-imposed ignorance from conversations around the national crisis. Anxiety from grad school. Coming to terms around my gender identity as pansexual. My mental health issues. My immigrant status. I had reason after reason, excuse after excuse to fall silent. 

In writing my racial autobiography for CRT, I was forced to identify the root of the issue - FEAR. In writing this, I feel tears forming as I am finally coming to terms with my discomfort about my own racialized experience and the shame I feel about not knowing the histories of my culture. I let my fear and the pain of my internalized identities to prevent me from participating in activism on campus and in my local community. 

I was afraid to uncover some really deep messed up shit about myself. I was afraid of outing myself as a fraudulant activist. And most importantly, I was afraid to show vulnerability when discussing these issues. As an emotional person who is perceived to not have any emotions, I have felt comfortable in the privilege of sitting on the margins of society...allowing myself to pick my battles when it best suited me. In years past, I was applauded for being a chameleon in the face of adversity. I was proud of this...but more recently I have come to terms that I have allowed myself to feel comfort in upholding a system that perpetuates the dominant narrative of whiteness. In my silence, I practiced anti-blackness, color-blindness, and interest convergence - systems and ideologies that my IE in Orgs and CRT courses attempted to deconstruct. I contributed to reinforcing the message that race and racism were not worthwhile topics. 

In publicly announcing this about myself, I am keeping myself accountable to disrupt these ideologies. So here are promises I hope to keep as I learn more about myself and my positionality within a racialized society:

1. Do my homework and learn the facts and the timeline of events
2. Check my privilege 

My ideas of activism is undermined by racist academic norms and practices, isolation, lack of support, as well as the resultant fear and self-doubt. To others who remain too afraid to speak up, you are not alone. Ideally, I hope to make it clear that higher education is complicit in the silence and ignorance that surrounds racist police violence, and racism in general. We fail to provide students with the critical lens necessary to connect what they learn in the classroom with what is shown (or ignored) by the media. We fail to demonstrate the relevance of academic scholarship to the real world, and to take serious topics such as race and racism in the classroom. White students are not challenged to see their own racial privileges and how their actions, and often times inactions, contribute to the perpetuation of racism. Many students of color do not see themselves on campuses, in text books, in the media. This is in the midst of higher education's role in perpetuating racial inequities, while producing a generation of 'post-racials.' 

Finally, this post serves to break my silence. I have once again learned the hard way that my silence does not protect me from racialized experiences within a predominantly white society. 

My Sexuality is my Own

And I am officially ‘coming out’ as pansexual.

As a disclaimer, I am one that dislikes binaries (between masculinity and femininity) and labels altogether.

Interestingly, human sexuality is a complex topic and is too often oversimplified in ways that leave people wondering what’s wrong with them, when in reality, the narrow ideals ingrained in our society is what is limiting our understanding of it. 

It took me a while to understand my own sexuality, and even longer to ‘come out’. 

However, I must admit that the ambiguity of my dating and sex life has allowed me to understand myself and my preferences regarding potential partners.

“Pansexual” is a term many are unfamiliar with. “PANSEXUALITY” is defined as:

the potential for sexual attraction, sexual desire, romantic love, or emotional attraction towards persons of all gender identities and biological sexes.

Essentially, this means that I am someone who can experience sexual attraction, emotional love, and a romantic relationship with a person of any sex or gender identity. And, although I identify as pansexual, the term, just like any other referring to one’s sexual preference, differs from each person. 

Frustratingly enough, people often times equate can with will. While I have the ability to fall for someone of any sex or gender identity, that’s not actually saying I have a wider dating pool than anyone else. There are so many factors that play into attraction—to say that one is limited solely by what a potential partner has in their pants is like saying the only factor that determines a good meal is the type of plate it’s served on. But like the factors that go into a good meal, a desired partner is so multifaceted, so divergent that it is frustrating when people assume that I am attracted to everyone. 

In truth, I’m pretty picky about who I choose to bed and who I choose to love—pickier than many of my friends regardless of orientation. While sex and gender presentation are not one of them, many factors limit who I will find attractive. I have a thing for piercing eyes and warm smiles. Usually I fall for people who are more mature. I want a lover who has a sense of humor, of purpose, of humility. I need someone who can match my wit, who gets as teary as I do when confronted with the gorgeousness of reality. I need someone who could support my overextended schedule. Someone who is romantic and committed without ever forgetting the importance of individuality. Someone I could see in my life for years to come. Someone who is comfortable being vulnerable and willing to discuss social inequities. Someone who takes life by the horns and enjoys the simple things. Above all, someone who is open and understanding, who thinks before they act and who would never do anything with the intent to harm.

This process is difficult because I am still figuring out what being pansexual really means to me. I struggle with not knowing what systems to work in or whether there are certain expectations that come from this label. It's almost as if I, again, am part of an invisible minority within an already minoritized group. In coming to terms with my sexuality, I am again thrown into a different identity development phase. 

So here I am, ‘coming out’ as pansexual and owning the fact that my sexuality is definitely my own. 

Complexity of being an Immigrant and an Activist

I've been grappling with this thought for quite a while now and I've sort of evaded reflecting on this topic with more success than I could imagine. However, recent events and the racial tensions within our country have almost coerced me to unpack this truth that kept me from truly becoming a leader within my community.

I am an Immigrant. I am an Activist. But I cannot be both at the same time. 

How could I? 

I am a first-generation student whose family emigrated from the Philippines nearly 18 years ago and these are the the realities that I was always afraid of facing.

The reason why I was afraid of reflecting on this issue was because I was scared of feeling marginalized from those around me. I don't like feeling left out and by stating that I am an immigrant, I was under the impression that I would be treated differently; treated as the other. This has made me revisit some internalized oppressions that I thought I had already come to terms with. I feared being made fun of for being from another country; for having an accent; for not being a local. I was afraid of not fitting in with the other kids and I was (and possibly still am) not ready to feel this way. Because of these assumptions that I learned growing up, I have become afraid...almost to a point where I feel stuck.

There are times when I tell myself that I should just be complacent. But the lack of action would not sit right with me. It would be unfair for those who see potential in me. It would be unfair for my parents who have sacrificed so much for me to pursue a higher education. It would be unfair for those who are struggling with more issues than I currently am.

Yet I still cannot find my voice when it comes to activism. I feel as if I have a good grasp on social justice and equitable practices but I cannot push too hard because of not knowing how far the law could protect an immigrant like myself. I want change. I'll ask for it. But I do not feel comfortable leading any initiative.

"If you commit any crime as a U.S. citizen, you will face criminal penalties. However, as a non U.S. citizen (even if permanent resident), if you commit any crime, in addition to all the criminal penalties, it is also an immigrant problem. Additionally, you will be taken to an immigration judge and your legal status may be jeopardized in the U.S., you may lose your green card or have serious consequences on being able to apply for U.S. citizenship in the future." 

I am afraid of speaking out and attending protests because although I am a permanent resident, I still am not fully protected by the constitution. Even during times of silent protests there is a possibility of police push back. And this unknown is what scares me.

Even speaking out too much could get me into trouble. In truth, I sometimes envy those who are able to speak out for others. That is a privilege that not many people think about but it is a privilege nonetheless.

Because of these fears, I've come to feel inadequate as a student leader. My voice wavers and my ideas trail off. I am afraid of being an activist. And I am still trying to navigate how to accept my immigrant identity yet become an activist/ally during these tough times for communities of color.

I am at a crossroads...and I realize that it'll take time for me to become comfortable addressing social justice issues and this non salient identity I hold. I guess it'll be another thing to add to the list of things to do during my journey in grad school.

My Journey Thus Far...

Entering grad school has been one of the most exciting parts of my life thus far. Why? It's because as a grad student I get a sense of what it's like to be an adult but still having the safety of two more years in school.

As a Resident Graduate Director and a full time student, I've come to realize that balancing selfishness and selflessness is more difficult than expected. And after only five weeks into the program, I've noticed that I've developed so much as an individual, although I'm sure that there's more to learn. This position has really helped me figure out some of my strengths and weaknesses. As a reflective individual, I thought it would be beneficial for me to share what I've learned so far.

1. How to Learn and Recover from Failures

Yes, failures will happen from time to time. Not having faced failures often enough growing up, I was finally able to see that I was living in blissful ignorance. Simply put: I don't take my own failures too well. When faced with that type of situation, I tend to stress out and dwell on my mistakes. I'd become anxious and frustrated that things were out of my control.

The pressure I felt made me want to drop everything because I felt that what I was doing was insignificant and meaningless, an effort that I thought would never amount to anything. Because of this unhealthy habit, I had no choice but to push through. In this line of work (Student Affairs), I feel as if I have to learn quickly and learn to get past the discomfort: a lesson I hope my students learn sooner than later.

Eventually, all my worries, doubts, fears, and criticisms faded away. 

Because of this unhealthy habit, I had no choice but to pick myself up (with some help of some supervisors, mentors, family, and friends). Even now as I move forward with this program, I'm learning to overcome my frustrations and begin remembering that my failures do not and should not define me. Slowly, I'm starting to recognize that failures are actually a normal part of life and that it is not a reflection of me as a person. During this process, I also learned that I am my own worst critic; something that I'm also trying to work on. 

In retrospect, being in grad school has taught me to accept and learn from my failures in order to move forward. This experience has helped me challenge myself in more ways than I would have expected. 

 2. The value of familial and personal relationships to help keep me MOTIVATED

If anything, your mental and physical health are very important to maintain. 

Although an introvert, I'm a fairly social person.

There are people who can get through grad school without any social interaction. Some cope with bad moments in different ways. But I will flat out say that there is NO WAY I could have gone this far without the help and support from some close friends and family.

There are just moments where I've needed the support of my loved ones to get through the most difficult of days. Sometimes it's nice to be around people that just listen to your situation, bring fresh eyes to the equation, and help you remember why you're there in the first place. 

Never have I imagined that by being away from my family and best friends would challenge me to constantly keep in contact with them in order to stay motivated. I made a promise to myself that I'd be the best student I could be when I began this program and they're the ones holding me accountable to that promise. 

#scoobydoocrewHI

So thank you to all of my friends and family members who've supported me, either emotionally or financially. Without you, I wouldn't be here.

You are enough. Today, tomorrow, and every day thereafter. You are perfectly adequate, without needing to change a single thing about yourself. This doesn't mean that you aren't allowed to want to grow, evolve or improve. It doesn't mean you don't have flaws. It means you are worthy.  It means that you deserve to love yourself in spite of your imperfections. No matter who you are, where you're from, or what you have been through, you are deserving. Be kind to yourself. You are only human

 3. Work-life balance...and the struggles

  

Never allow your energy or enthusiasm be dampened
by the discouragement that must inevitably come. 

Work life balance is very important in Student Affairs and as an individual that needs a means to take his mind off of things, I've learned to channel my energy into things that I enjoy. Being outdoors and feeling the sun helps me clear my mind. Drawing or photo editing also helps me focus on something other than work. 

Binge watching on Netflix or other TV sites has also become one of my favorite past times. I call this a mind-numbing activity because I am not implicated by any of the decisions the characters make. Although I am affected by the amount of time I spend watching these shows, it helps me relax. 

Moving forward with this whole work life balance thing, I'm hoping to get into an outside league, most likely kickball, and possibly join a dance group...most likely hula but we'll see. I've just learned that there is a benefit of getting off campus and sometimes separating social life and work life. 

4. Work Smarter and Not Harder

A simple philosophy but difficult to achieve without the right tools. Since the beginning of this program, I've learned that multitasking doesn't necessarily equate to productivity.

The other grad students have stated this time and time again but I never knew the meaning until I was swamped with readings and papers. Even my TA told me to focus on things I was interesting in and just skim on topics that I wasn't in to. Once I realized that doing so could save me time and effort, I've become less stressed about school work. 

This idea also empowered me to say NO more often. With so many things happening at once, you just have to know when to put your foot down and defend your priorities. Yes, hanging out with friends is important, but so is finishing a paper that's due the next day. I've found that if there are no boundaries and expectations set, then things will eventually get out of hand.

Overall, I've learned that effective time management is key to getting everything done but still allowing me to keep my sanity. 

5. Communication is an art form

Being the Administrator on Call for the week made me more appreciative of what my supervisors go through. After dealing with parents and frustrated students, I now understand that people have different ways of communicating and the awkwardness of silence actually helps. I've always been good at reading people's emotions so that helps me get a sense of how people are feeling. 

In terms of small groups, I've always known that communication is key but for some reason, I've regressed from doing so. In small groups, I'm usually better at expressing concerns but similar to navigating the space of grad school, I'm also beginning to navigate relationships within the different groups I'm involved in, either with the cohort or with the other housing grads. Because of this added layer, I've become nervous about asking questions and taking a step back, afraid that I may be bringing the group back to square one. However, after some hard conversations, I've learned the asking questions are required and being on the same page as everyone only helps create a better product. 

The Housing Staff out and about 

I've also learned that boundaries are necessary to establish. There were moments during this program where I've isolated myself from the groups because I had a difficult time separating my personal relationship with my work relationships. But in Student Affairs, that's not a simple task to accomplish. Personally, I believe there's a fine line between having personal relationships that affect work relationships but because I live and work at the same place, I had to reevaluate my definition of what that line was. 

This lesson is essential for future student affairs professionals because the sooner they figure out that these lines are blurred, the better they'll  be at adjusting to the difficulties of living where they work. 

6. Enjoy the moments no matter how little they may be

This is a little more self-explanatory. Five weeks in and I feel more confident about the choices that I make and the skills that I bring to the table. 

With that though, I need to constantly remember that it's okay to let loose once in a while and to take this program as a learning experience. It's okay to make mistakes and it's okay to be wrong. What matters is how we choose to move forward from those experiences. 

Finding a means to balance the demands of a social life, a professional life, and school work will enable me to not only succeed, but also keep me from experiencing high levels of stress and, ultimately, burnout. 

I'm slowly learning. I'm learning to take in the good and the bad, one moment at a time. And that's what matters most...the fact that I'm learning.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Sometimes a thing, a message, a bit of words finds itself into our path just about at the exact moment we need to hear it.  These moments are best when we had no idea we needed to hear this exact ‘it’ at all.  It’s like the simultaneous hit direct to the soul of ‘you’re okay’ and the sigh of relief of ‘someone else has been there too.’

I hope that this blog post helps someone today.