Revisited 2: My life in 5 year segments

In the (not so) grand tradition of my own #5yrs life segments review, the time has come for another consideration of a possible legend/guide to find trends/patterns in my mortal experience. Perhaps the 9th addition to this list might allow for some insight into my journey? Let's see then shall we?

Quick recap:

00-05: carefree childhood

05-10: awareness of my Other-ness

10-15: trusting the Closet

15-20: escaping the Closet

20-25: student-/full time LGBTI-rights activist

25-30: print/design entrepreneur

30-35: sober, educator*, consultant, exhibiting photographer, community activist and odd-jobs-guy.

35-40: sober student of Education: Postgraduate Certificate in Education (PGCE 2013) cum laude; B.Ed Honours in Language Education (2014) cum laude; M.Ed on Language Didactics and Digital Pedagogies (2017) cum laude. Lecturer in Higher Education.

40-4(4): still sober (by Grace), lecturer in Higher Education, Academic Head of an HEI (2020...), now studying towards a PhD in Education (2022-2024?)

To be honest, the journey from 35 to today (the day before my 44th birthday) took a wildly different turn than I expected when I enrolled in the PGCE programme at Stellenbosch University. The initial plan was to get in, get teacher certified, and get out to go back to teaching in Taiwan. I still miss my kids from the kindergarten, and wonder who they've grown up to be(come).

That is not to say that teaching in Higher Ed has not been a wild and wonderful adventure in and of itself! I've had the privilege of meeting a wide array of wonderful people, and I'd like to think that I've had at least a small impact on their thinking and careers. The hundreds of PGCE students that swept through my lectures, and the smaller groups of incredible game design and developers I was privileged enough to have in my classes have truly left their mark on my soul. I sincerely hope that they have forgiven me for my sins as an academic assessor, and perhaps even think of me gently on the odd occasion.

Teaching as a profession is not what it should be. There, I've said it. While being guilty of aiding and abetting the corporatisation of education in order to earn a living – I'm not a fan. Perhaps braving the waters of academia as a PhD student, then, might be seen as a counter-intuitive and ironic act of surrender to the Overlords. The covert intent, I feebly hope, is however to try and liberate a smidgeon of thought surrounding learning/mediation of learning from the grip of The Formal and show that we have always been doing it ourselves.

Then again, I might be going soft in the head (as last year's barrage of MRI scans suggest).

I don't really know why I'm blogging again, actually. Most of the people who were on this blog's journey with me have moved on or died. Cancer took my Mom in 2018, and the world caught fire shortly thereafter when COVID-19 hit. I sound callous, or even cruel when I put it like that... and maybe I am a bit. I do hope that I'm not so far gone that I'll disconnect from the joy in the world completely. I'm sure it'll come back.

Then again, I might be insane.

 

*Serious relationship that ended the Christmas eve after I proposed.

puppy pic parade 2

Saturday and I'm trying to muster up the will (Apple spoiled the word courage for me with iPhone 7) to get my but in gear and write something worthwhile. Chapter 4 of my dissertation is on the brink of completion, which naturally means that I now have no idea what I'm doing. #Life

So te get my mood up, and some semblance of a pulse to register on this blog, I've decided to share more pics of Jet. His joyful, loving presence in my life is oftentimes the only light shining into my room here on campus. (I wish people brought me this much comfort.) But before I head into the darker waters of my psyche (that are currently swelling), heeeeeerrrrre's JET!

Not faking it

I originally wrote this as a comment to Britni’s post: Imposter Syndrome. Britni writes about knowing “something is wrong” but how the search for answers sometimes leads to doubting yourself.

I have a very good idea what Britni is talking about. Only thing is that I was actually diagnosed, after years of misdiagnoses, with bipolar disorder in my 20s. The battle of finding the right balance of meds was a rough one, but we finally got it ‘sorta right’ and my life was improving. I moved to Asia after turning 30, where a brain specialist in a state hospital found exactly the right balance of meds from the word go! The next 3.5 years were the most amazing years of my life up to that point! I began hoping that all the lifestyle changes I’d made since my diagnosis had paid off – and that maybe I was cured.

Then I went to the States to take up a job offer – that turned out to be a scam – where I was promised (amongst other things) that my medication would be taken care of. It wasn’t, and for 7 months I silently slipped back ‘into the wild’. My ‘benefactor’ was thoroughly convinced that he was a specialist in all things, and proclaimed that my prescription was nothing more than a placebo… and I wanted to believe it.

A psychiatric nurse who knew him came to visit (social call) once. She had her suspicions about the whole setup. She took me aside and offered one word of advice: Run!

I didn’t want to hear it though. I was thoroughly enthralled by my “friend”. Months later her advice rang in my head when I found out that I was to be taken to Mexico for a ‘visa run’. I fled back home to SA with the help of a couple of friends I made in that time. (Friends to whom I am eternally grateful, and whom I miss dearly.)

Back in SA, a new psychiatrist doubted my earlier diagnosis and suggested we wait to see what happened. I wanted to believe him, and to pin my symptoms on my American experience. But we were both mistaken.

Long story short: I had a major episode and was put back on medication. I’m not who I was in Taiwan – but life is better for the most part.

Mental illness is a weird thing. Half of the struggle is wanting to know that you’re not making it up – and half is trying to convince yourself that you did. It superimposes a layer of doubt on your life: Am I not just over exaggerating normal experiences? Am I simply a weakling hiding behind a label?

The truth (as far as I’m concerned) is that we’re not making things up. Our experiences are real and our realities are valid. (If that edges me towards radical constructivism, so be it *chuckles*)

If either my or Britni’s stories strike a chord with you, or with the experiences of someone you know, keep the faith! You are not alone – even when it feels like it. (And boy, can it ever feel like it!) Stick to it, stay true to yourself, and be truthful about yourself. Somewhere, someone has the instincts, knowledge and wherewithal to help figure it out.

So keep on keep’n on – we’ll make it yet!

puppy pic parade!

because you haven't seen enough of my darling doggy :)

On the road again

How to derail our dating potential

Generally people seem to believe that I'm an easygoing, low maintenance and generally nice kind of guy. This makes me happy. While I am all for being an agreeable fellow, there are some things that tweak my tits. In the interest of any potential suitor who cares to read this, the following actions (in no particular order) will get you nowhere fast:

1. Changing my name. If you don't like what my folks called me, I won't like you.

2. Claiming my pets as your children (step/foster included). If we ain't married when you do this, we ain't never gonna be.

3. Trying to fix me / get me off my meds. I'm bipolar, not broken.

4. Texting paragraphs in rapid succession, using All Caps for emphasis and/or multiple punctuation marks. I'll think you need therapy, not attention.

5. Making light of alcoholism. Bitch no.

6. Cringing at queer culture, -expression, -humor, -linguistics or -rights related work. If we're dating, you're bi/gay/msm. Deal.

7. Being prejudiced. Full stop.

8. Believing racism is a 'white' thing. That idea is racist – see no.7.

9. Denying me my own culture and language. Afrikaans is integral to who I am. Classifying Afrikaans speakers as racist makes you prejudiced. See no's 7&8.

10. Hating on believers. While it's your right, and I might have a thing against organized religion, I don't appreciate the belittling of faith. Mine or anyone else's.

Perhaps I'm being a cranky old man. Maybe all lines should be crossed. That's okay. Do whatever you want out there. I'm just saying that if you want to get with this scatterbrained wreckademic, you need to get with his program.

#mustlovedogs

Rescue Rover Realness

So yeah, I got a puppy!!!

Meet Alfons "Jet" Balthazar Knoetze

Yay!!!