Mad studies.

I had a busy weekend. On Saturday I trekked out to Victoriaville to visit a handful of antique places with K. I was introduced to K in Victoria when I visited my buddy there. K is in Montreal now, working on a master's degree in interdisciplinary studies, specifically disability studies.

Our day together had us discuss all sorts of things, much of it around disability studies, academia, access, mental illness, graduate work and just everything in and around those subjects.

When I talked to her about my Etsy shop, as well as my blog here, and what I focus on she was very encouraging as to my work being elaborated into graduate work.

She also pointed to an upcoming symposium on feminism and dark humor, as well as the field of "mad studies." Both things seemed so me. 

I'm going through a few "mad studies" links now:

This is a resource site. It seems to be based in Lancaster but many of the links are Canadian. It seems to have started in Canada.

It's linked me to the Centre for the study of Gender, Social Inequities and Mental Health in Vancouver, which sounds right up my alley.

From The Guardian UK, Mad studies brings a voice of sanity to psychiatry by Peter Beresford:

The approach embodied in mad studies offers us a coherent roadmap for rethinking our mental wellbeing by recognising people who have experience of mental distress as both service users and experts.

I'm surprised that with all the reading I've been doing I've not been linked to Ryerson or "mad studies" before today. The symposium was in 2012. Though in all fairness to me in 2012 I was too busy having panic attacks to be reading anything other than Ativan labels.

 From another article, The rise of Mad Studies: A new academic discipline challenges our ideas of what it means to be “sane” by Alex Gillis:

"Mad studies doesn’t reject medical models of madness [but it puts] them into a historical trajectory, one that shows that psychiatry isn’t an absolute interpretation of human mental states,” says Kathryn Church, an associate professor of sociology and director of Ryerson’s school of disability studies.

It contextualizes "madness" - and I hope the representation of actual "mad" voices and experience fill the gaps (and there are many) of the nuances of access, care, and experience. Like any history account, the majority of reading someone's history means negating the histories of others. Views are never fully three-dimensional. Much of our talk about mental health is extremely superficial.

The article ends with a call to represent yourself and your experience, and that's where I'm wading right now.

How best to represent myself and my experiences?

Is academia more limiting than it is a helpful framework?

Do I want limits to how I represent myself and my struggles?

Am I comfortable with a language-based approach?

Does my writing and creative work need to be shared, viewed, and recognized to be valuable?

Am I willing to make such a financial sacrifice, for a degree with no monetary return value?

Am I willing to continue living like a student / someone who is perpetually broke?

Can I afford graduate school?

Do I have the energy for it?

All things I'm thinking of. All of this, and more, of course.

Classes I can't remember, grades I can't forget.

I've been looking into a local graduate program here, and looking into the admissions requirements has been a bit of a kick in the cooch.

First, staying in Montreal is my only real option. I could pay for an entire master's program here for the cost of one semester our of province. That's fucking malarkey.

Looking at the highs and lows of my university grades is something. Hit or miss really. My final university GPA was 3.19, but the start was rough. Going through my transcripts was actually upsetting. I didn't expect that. It's an actual record of a time in my life I barely remember. It's a cold record, which does not care for me or my problems. It's an official transcript.

This  next bit makes me laugh, because it shows the difference between hard-theory and classes where I could use a more creative approach to the work. A professor I thought the world of taught Feminist Thought which was heavy theory (Émile Durkheim and shit like that). I took her two introductory classes while also taking classes that involved more popular culture and the possibility of creative projects.

As you can see, the heavier theory classes (first two) didn't go down so well. Pop culture stuff went great though!

The start of university was rough, but eventually things got better as I ran from Human Relations and settled into Women's Studies.

What's difficult to look back on, is the grades, failures and class suspensions during the first year out of high school. In Quebec we have a CEGEP program, which is like a pre-univeristy college. We have one year less of high school than other places. Instead, it goes high school, then cegep/college, then university. Or, high school, technical college/cegep.

First, I left high school and went into Liberal Arts. This was a huge mistake. I didn't even know what Liberal Arts really was. I took the title of the program literally (problem #1), and was surrounded by rich private school kids that didn't even speak the same language as me (not literally). It was so alien.

Shit then hit the fan with a boy I was in an unhealthy relationship with. I changed school, went into Social Studies for a semester, did terribly, felt worse, and then headed back to my original school, where I bounced around the creative arts until I graduated with a Arts & Culture degree.

Things were such a mess. I was in so much pain. I was manic. It's just hard to look back on.

This "rough patch" lasted throughout my college life. Roughly 3 years. University continued that, but I was on a slow incline. My time in graphic design followed that (I graduated in 2011) and the last few years have been the best I've had in the last decade. 

It really bums me out that these grades follow me around. As they do anyone else who had an accident, survives a trauma or has some type of mental break. Registrars don't give a fuck. 

I know I shouldn't settle on this. I'm trying not to fixate on the image and the low numbers. I know that eventually, I was able to stand back up and move along, but it's so hard. It's like remembering a wound. It's a type of ghost-limb syndrome. A muscle memory for pain. A general sense of uneasiness and a heat in the chest. 

Things got better. I eventually got better. I have more good days now.

I was able to graduate from university. This is a privilege. This is something I earned. That I paid for. That I accomplished. That's not nothing.

I did okay. Excluding chemistry of course - but don't expect too much from me. I'm in the fucking arts.

What I'm feeling isn't fear. I thought maybe it might be, since I'm looking at grad school now, and that means re-learning an academic language. It means more work. It means academic texts. It means papers. It means a thesis. It means work and school. It means long hours. But things are different. I have methods of coping now. I have a support system. I'm able to better manage my expectations, and don't overly commit to things. I know how to say no. I can drop out. I can work less. I can move things around. I don't feel the same pressure now, maybe because I don't feel forced into it. 

For a long time, I was in school as to be "doing something." I felt like for as long as I was in school, I wasn't actively ruining my life. It was a pause on decisions. It was a pause on the big moves expected of your 20's.

What I feel now, when looking at these transcripts is yes, some sadness. But I also feel empathy for myself, then. I still feel the twinge in my chest. It hurts. It's the reverberation of a devastation. It's similar to that feeling you have when you walk away from an upsetting documentary, only it's evoked by your own memory. 

Everything is expensive. Please be less expensive everything.

So on a slow day at work I had started to look into further training and classes I could take. 

I get bored sometimes, and I also worry about my job security and my employability.

I ended up on the OCAD website, taking a look at their Inclusive Design master's degree. 

Turns out, their inclusive design graduate degree is made pretty exclusive by the 20,000$ price-tag. 

I think inclusive design could be an interesting field, and find it especially interesting in regards to mental health. While in crisis, sometimes I'm non-verbal. Design tools that cater to that, and that aim for a non-verbal representation of needs could be really helpful. 

I was introduced to K through a buddy while in Victoria. K is doing a masters revolving around disability at Concordia University. We talked at length on a beach in Victoria (not too shabby). She recommended Feminist Queer Crip and On Being Ill by Virginia Woolf. Both are on my to-read reading list. 

I hope I can talk to her about her experience with the Concordia master's program - I think she's doing it with the school of fine art though - I'm not sure.

I feel kind of stuck these days. I don't have much money coming in. I still have some credit card debt to pay off, I have a minimum amount saved up for a down-payment (10,000$) and now time is just passing. I'm still living pay-check to pay-check. I guess I just feel I need a project. 

I'm attempting to take better care of myself but I have good days and bad days. I haven't been cooking. 

I went for brunch with a buddy yesterday and she talked about her having greatly benefited from an elimination diet, which helped her figure out which foods aggravate her fibromyalgia and chronic eczema. We talked about it at length, since she says she feels drastically different, and feels her general mood, depression and energy have changed for the better. 

She's not one to preach on this kind of stuff, but she said I might find it interesting and helpful, which I might. I do feel lethargic and tired after bread and carbs, so I would probably see a big difference in reducing my wheat consumption. 

I am thinking about housing and I'm thinking about work and I'm thinking about what I want, and I just go back and forth on a lot of it. Sometimes I'm bored and feel like I could do more. Other times I feel like I should limit my responsibilities and commit to the least amount possible. 

Ups and downs.