Graduating with gratitude
The support of friends and classmates made my time in grad school meaningful and successful.
As the survivor of a traumatic brain injury (TBI) that derailed a previous grad school attempt in 2012, I am pleased to share that I recently, successfully defended my master’s capstone project—which I am excited to share more about soon. I now have a master’s in multimedia journalism from the University of Oregon.
Being done still feels surreal—in no small part because my classes were all online. It seems that it is easier to process an experience that happens in person and goes smoothly. Alas, I applied for grad school in December 2019 and started in fall 2020. We all know what happened between those two points in time.
But, happily, I can attest that doing grad school during a pandemic is easier than doing grad school with a TBI!
In an early assignment in the multimedia journalism master’s program, I share what the aftermath of my 2012 accident in the Glacier Peak Wilderness was like. Click to listen.
Being stubborn and knowing that the vast majority of concussions resolve in 1-2 weeks, I tried to gut it out. The entire fall 2012 semester, I endured awful headaches, sensory overload, rapid-onset naps, speech issues, and the humbling experience of being unable to execute my ideas or, well, follow through on most things. I’ve never done so poorly in school, and I have never experienced a time in my life where I could not engage with art, reading, and writing.
This forced me to confront the question: When everything you define yourself by is stripped away, how do you rebuild your self-concept?
Being forced to dig deeper and get in touch with who I was at my core gave me the foundation upon which I have built my life. I have worked hard to recover most of my functionality, so art and writing are again some of the truest ways that I can express my core self.
But, true to what I learned in 2012, my skills are not my identity. Self-knowledge, coupled with my commitment to my values, is what has steered me true—and into the multimedia journalism program. And my unfinished business from my first grad school gave me the determination to finish.
Even when I was very much learning as I went, in the field, with expensive camera equipment. Even when I was balancing work, an internship, and multiple graduate-level courses. Even when I was faced with systemic ableism. Even when it was challenging to gain approval to film at the youth correctional facility where my capstone story was centered. In spite of—and because of—these hurdles, I have become the multimedia storyteller I am today.
Grad school is a massive undertaking. It will lay you flat and leave you gasping. It’s up to you to get back up and trudge the full length of the trail—just as I did after I fell 30 feet in Glacier Peak Wilderness in 2012. I hiked out under my own power, albeit with good company who kept me focused on the finish line.
And with my classmates, instructors, friends, interviewees, family, and my wonderful fiancé by my side, I reached the next biggest finish line of my life in 2023. I’m writing this with immense gratitude for everyone who’s been part of this absurd and rewarding journey.
Celebrating with my mom, my fiancé, and my dad (he’s taking the photo) after commencement in Eugene.
