Chapter 25: Counting Down and Tearing Up

I have been counting down to the day of my thesis defense, the last day of my last graduate class, and the day that I cross the stage. Those days are getting closer and the working days are getting shorter. I should be excited. I should be working tirelessly to get everything done and prep for my big moment(s). Instead, I lack motivation despite the difficulty I have breathing.

It's been something that I haven't quite been able to wrap my head around until recently. Very recently. I read somewhere, and I honestly don't remember where, a quote: Procrastination isn't the inability to start, it's the fear of  finishing. 

In some ways I think the quote is a bit cliche and probably not all that true but for me, now, it speaks loudest. I've thought about what it means for me to complete my thesis, to complete all the coursework needed to complete requirements for my degree. What it means is that I'll no longer be a student and being a student has defined me for the past four years. When I started college all those years ago, just after high school, like everyone else, I didn't feel like a student. I didn't want to be there; I wanted to party all night, sleep all day and hang out with my friends. School took a back seat until it finally just got put in the trunk. When I exhausted myself with all the late nights and lack of money, I decided it was time to get a job and I worked for seven years before I felt the itch to go back to school and finish my first degree. Part of that itch was thanks to my best friend, part of it was thanks to my then, boyfriend and part of it was my desire to do something else with my life and my belief that school would take me where I wanted to go. Strangely enough, that thought was something I believed I had grown out of seven years earlier and strangely enough that thought it is exactly what fuels my participants too, but if you want to know about that, you'll have to read my thesis - when it's finally written.

When I returned to school as a full time student in 2007 I felt different. I felt like a student, I felt like I understood what it meant to be in college, what was expected of me from professors, courses, classmates, and the institution. I was thrilled every time I made the Dean's List, which was every semester upon my return. That matters because in my final semester all those years earlier, I stopped attending class but never withdrew and consequently failed all five of my classes, leaving me with a GPA under 2.0. Most of you probably don't know that about me and if you know how I am as a student now, probably don't believe it to be true. Even more astonishing was my ability to still graduate Cum Laude - because I felt like I found my place again. After graduation I rolled directly into a graduate program at a new university in a new city, where I knew no one. 

Being here alone forced me to focus on school even more than I already would have because I had no outlet for socializing. I had no friends or family to distract me, my then boyfriend was deployed, all I could do was work and be a student. My job was (still is, until August) as a graduate research assistant so it kept me linked with all things academe and it added fuel to the already raging fire that I have in my belly for a place in the system. I finally loved something. I loved being a student, I loved attending and presenting at conferences, I loved doing research and reading and writing and discussing. I loved the world that existed inside my computer and inside the walls of my university; and it started in 2007. It was no longer a lofty dream or distant goal to picture myself inside that world forever but as the days become shorter and as I get closer to matriculating, the more distant it all feels. Again.

Perhaps my lack of motivation isn't a lack of motivation at all but instead an unwillingness to complete my final task because that would mean that my life inside the walls of the university has come to an end. I should be excited. Instead, I think I'm depressed. I don't know what comes next and fear of that unknown makes me nervous to leave the only world I HAVE known for the past four years. I'm not rolling into another program right away; I'm not chasing a PhD when my thesis is over. I'm done when my thesis is done and that is a lonely feeling, like I'm lost in the woods and forgot my compass at home. 

Deep down I know that things will turn out for the best, they always do, I always land on my feet and find greater opportunities. But this 'unknown', while exciting, is also terrifying. Do I think I'm the only person to ever experience this while in grad school? No, not at all. Does that make it easier to get through the days and nights? No, not at all. I don't cry often but lately I've made up for months of arid tear ducts, flooding my eyes and emotions, struggling to get through the woods and start on the path to the next big thing...

Until Next Time,

Courtney Chivon

Chapter 24: 30 and Single in San Antonio

I am a day away from turning 30! Finally 30! I have been waiting for 30 since I turned...21! Maybe. Ok, so I'm not exactly sure when I decided that 30 would be a good year, but I know that I have patiently waited for it. Although, much has changed in regards to what I thought turning 30 would mean.


Always a planner, I used to think that I would meet someone in my mid to late 20s, we would date then commit then by 30 we would marry. All of that was to set us up for a three to five year marriage before we embarked on parenthood. Some things have changed, yet some remain the same. While I no longer yearn to be a 30 year old bride, I do yearn to be a 33-35 year old, first time mommy. More on that later...


Right now I am thinking about the more immediate things that will happen and change in the first few months of this new decade. First, I have to survive and finish graduate school which includes writing, defending, and submitting my thesis by August! After that, well, let's just say, 'Always the planner' no longer applies! When I started my journey through grad school, I had a plan to defend and submit my thesis by, oh, next week! Already, so much has changed...


In other news, I just moved into a new apartment and almost immediately felt different. Even though my move to San Antonio was "on my own," in many ways, it wasn't. Because I was in MN during the summer before my move, my mom had to do the leg work for getting my apartment in San Antonio. Then, it was always just a temporary home, a short layover while CT was deployed. Something to keep me going and keep me close when he came home. His things were moved with mine. We spent time there, in that place, and I still remember how it was too small while we were both there, suffocating on the days he would leave, and too big when he was gone.  Nothing about that apartment was mine, every memory there was shared with him even when he wasn't around. If I wasn't living with him, I was living with his ghost. Come to think of it, most of my relationship was with his ghost. I'm not sure how much of it was with him. Our story finally ended in October, giving us almost an entire year of being [not] together. So the move to this new apartment is symbolic, as is most everything in my life. This time, I did do it on my own, in more ways than one. This time, it feels like mine and this time I only moved my things. There is something about the move that says, "You've entered the next chapter, Courtney, even if the last one isn't finished yet." Being here also finally brought me to a place where I could mourn. For the first time since we broke up, I cried, in the middle of my living room floor surrounded by boxes and thesis, I cried. At the end, I had one thought, "I am surrounded by me, time to embrace what I have to offer to myself." My cryfest couldn't come soon enough either, it happened on the eve of a very important interview...


So this is the part where I make my new year resolution, or two. Over the past year I've faced a great many changes. Some challenges, like breaking up and attempting to move on, fighting with friends and family, drowning in a shallow pool called: thesis! I've also had some amazing experiences, greeting and meeting members of our Malawian team, traveling to Malawi 3 times! Being there for my sister as she turned 30 and my niece as she turned 10! Growing as a friend, as a daughter, as a person.


My friends know me as independent, strong, determined, and I am but just because I choose to do things on my own does not mean that I do things alone. If I've gained anything over the past year, it's the reaffirming knowledge that my friends and family are always on my side, always ready to listen, always ready to lend a hand - on the off chance that I should admit that I need help. Those who have stayed true and strong have learned this about me, they have learned that eventually, I do ask for help, even if I don't claim to need it very often. Like parents, my friends and family have all been there to witness first steps with watchful eyes and just enough space to let me learn; knowing that my impulsiveness will probably lead to a stumble and a fall and knowing that they shouldn't rush in to rescue me. But also knowing, like parents do, that ultimately I will land on solid ground, find my stride and take off running. I may not be completely unscathed, but then, that's also why they stay so close behind.

I've been told by several people (friends and acquaintances) that I'm brave and strong for living the life that I live (this has different meanings for different people). I've even been told that I inspire them through my actions. But the truth is, they only see me doing these things alone, like an actor on stage but they never see who is standing in the wings. The reality is that I don't do anything alone because if it weren't for the people in my life I couldn't survive. I haven't found the words to articulate how Malawi changed me but I do know how being with my friends and family has changed me. It seems now, that everything I do is to get to the next chapter, I'm far more cognizant of it now than I have ever been.

As I turn 30 I resolve to keep those tried and true closer than ever before. I resolve to let the people go who continue to bring me down. I resolve to forgive and to forget only the hurt but never the laughter. I resolve to be the friend that my friends are to me, or to at least try. I resolve to move forward and not worry about 'what didn't happen,' knowing that there is still a world of 'what is yet to happen' standing just in front of me.

So maybe I won't be a 30 year old bride, but I can be a 30 year old single woman with her entire world open to her and eager to meet the life that has been waiting for her... 


Until Next Time,
Courtney Chivon


My year in music

Chapter 23: Bravery and Simple Pleasures

I've been traveling since new year's eve and won't start my return trip to the states until the 19th (just less than 3 days from now). This isn't the longest I've been away from the comforts of my home or the everyday things that make life so easy. However, the last 17 days have been so full and changing that I feel like I've been away for a year.


That brings us to the title of this entry...so first, let's talk a little about bravery.


I've been told on several occasions (and was told in September as well) that I'm brave for traveling as I do. I suppose to some extent I can understand this, but ultimately, I can't quite wrap my mind around what it is that makes me brave. Is it so strange for a person to travel on her/his own, or is it the distance that makes people feel as they do? Or is it that I'm a female traveling on my own that sets me up for conversations around how it feels to travel? I feel less brave than privileged and far less brave than blessed by good fortune. I've been on my own for longer than I can remember (in various ways, of course) and this just seems, to me, like my next venture. However, I was also recently told that the people on this project (Read Malawi) are brave for undergoing the issues that we face daily. She said to me that most people would grow impatient and just "do the work for them," referring to the difference between building capacity and being a hero. Perhaps there is a certain level of bravery in what we do, if you choose to look at it that way, but I don't. To me bravery is less noble than showy and quite frankly, I tend to feel that bravery is cowardice in disguise. Instead, the way I see that our project is different from "hero mentality" endeavors is based in the simple principle that we are humans helping humans.


I could go on and define or describe to you the philosophy of humanism but I fear that this entry will then turn into a novel. So, if you're interested, I'm sure you can find something on Wikipedia; or maybe you could just read some John Dewey or Thomas Pain. My point is that when people acknowledge and accept that it is through our connections with others that we benefit most in our lives and enrich the lives of our neighbors, then the work that we do together will cultivate a wealthy society.


Off of my soapbox and onto the simple pleasures...


When you spend a great deal of time away from the comforts of your home or the everyday things that make life easy, you begin to value all the things that are so easily taken for granted. I experienced this at camp and on the first long trip for the project, in July. For the past several days the only things that have been on my mind are: tide fresh laundry, running on trails, febreeze, and of course, my bed. As usual, my body aches and the lack of physical activity has me feeling quite frumpy and well, frankly, fat. The humidity from the rainy season has my clothes feeling and smelling funky which makes me incredibly eager to do laundry upon my return. Deodorant is also nice, when it works...it doesn't work much in Malawi. The other simple pleasures that I miss most are things like grabbing a drink with a friend, chatting on Skype (or some other method), using my overrated Blackberry for, well, everything!


I love Malawi, and will return at any and every opportunity for any length of time. However, I can acknowledge the little things that I miss about being home, and in some ways, I'm excited to return to them soon.


It's getting late and I'm getting tired. There are two full and frantic days left before my time here is over so I'm going to head back to my room and get some sleep. I hope you'll think about what it means to be brave and consider what it means to be human. Maybe you won't see much difference at all...but then, maybe you will. And enjoy life's little pleasures, you never know when they won't be around.


Until Next Time,
Courtney Chivon