Lost and Then Found
During the Creative Process of my Master’s Thesis
On the October afternoon I got my Master’s Degree from Ryerson University I felt proud, but not as excited as I was during my undergraduate convocation. If I felt more calm and content this time it was because an especially challenging journey (that happened over a condensed period of time) was finally coming to an end. Throughout the creation of my major thesis paper and All Access, the podcast project accompanying it, I experienced the worst anxiety I had in a long time. However, through the recording sessions for the podcast, I also learned to be more honest in the conversations I had with both loved ones and strangers.
In this year-long program, I learned a variety of new production skills for the first time and had to immediately apply them in creative projects. Coming from a strongly academic background, this weighed heavily on me throughout my application and decision processes. I had already spent over five years (between my CEGEP liberal arts program and my undergraduate degree) writing analytical essays, preparing group presentations, reading long wordy texts about media theory, and even drafting blog posts between assignments. Building a production from the ground up was entirely new to me. Still, I thought I could power through the intensity since I had some friends and family in Toronto. Yet, during the processes of completing these projects, I felt completely alone because of the constant reminder of my minimal previous experience in production in comparison to the rest of my classmates. Having to handle exorbitantly expensive rented equipment as an amateur didn’t make me feel any better.
These little fears also led to a much deeper concern: how could I accomplish my thesis project if I was so uncertain about filming a five-minute film for class? Once I finished my first production assignment and showed it to the class, I was surprisingly not preoccupied with minute mistakes (as I would have been with a term paper). Instead, I was thankful that I overcame my fears to create an imperfect but complete production under my name.
Knowing I could surpass the unknown helped me through the transition from schoolwork to working full-time on my thesis production and paper. However, the fear of failure that dominated the production of my short film was replaced by a deep underlying anxiety over whether or not I did everything I could to graduate, like making sure I absolutely didn’t need Research Ethics Board approval or have outstanding fees to pay. With my community of classmates each on their own paths towards their thesis defence and my friends from home embarking on exciting summer adventures, I got into an unhealthy routine. I was working between five and six hours on the project at the Toronto Reference Library, and then coming home and resorting to eating prepared foods (with ice cream for dessert) and watching The Office. This daily pattern would sometimes be broken for audio editing sessions and meetings with my supervisor, but for the most part, I retreated. I was not thrilled to be spending a beautiful summer alone in a massive library (I don’t think anyone would be). I missed my friends and my family in Montreal. I was not exercising as much as I could have, nor was I cooking as much because by the time I was done at the library, I was exhausted.
There were a few factors that kept me moving forward during this slow time other than Steve Carell declaring bankruptcy on The Office. There were some outings with friends to concerts, beaches, and parks that distracted me from incessant thoughts about the sound quality of my podcast or the reliability of my sources. The constant reminders from my family (and myself) that this period and this project will pass helped me stay grounded. Most importantly, and surprisingly, it was the conversations I had with my guests for the podcast that showed me how a project that brought me constant stress could enlighten me as well. I marveled at how I was able to have deep and authentic conversations with young adults I barely knew at the time. I loved discussing our common experiences of having toxic friendships and figuring out hookup culture despite our different backgrounds and abilities. I would leave these recording sessions exhausted but so excited to engage in more of these open discussions. When I looked back on them as I wrote my final research paper, I was reminded of my project’s purpose: to create a platform for young adults with different abilities to engage in relevant and honest dialog, something I feel is missing from existing media.
I like to think about this strange dichotomy, that the creative process can bring about some of the most amazing feelings of self-realization and pride, and can also force us to come to terms with the state of our mental health. A simple Google search of “mental health and creativity” results in lots of research examining how an individual’s mental state is related to their creative processes. For instance, research from Psychology Today highlights how this connection is often made because creative processes and mental illnesses both involve distinct deviations from normative modes of thinking. Creativity often requires uncommon skills or talents, whereas symptoms of mental illnesses are uncommon deviations from normal behavior, like severe panic attacks. Therefore, although various types of creative processes evidently demonstrate deviations from normal ways of thinking, they are not disruptive or involuntary, like many symptoms of mental illnesses.
It was not as simple to find strategies to maintain mental and social well-being during a short-term but time-consuming creative endeavour. The articles I read from lifestyle sites like HelloGiggles mention self-care practices that are mostly done alone, like taking bubble baths and watching classic romantic comedies (both activities I admit to doing- and enjoying- at the height of thesis season). I wish these general notions of self-care put a stronger emphasis on spending time with loved ones and taking a healthy pause from the creative process. I found joy in the midst of the chaos by engaging in irrelevant conversations and events and not just commiserating over the stress of the project with my classmates.
The insights I gained from these experiences ultimately pushed me forward, through three drafts of my paper, five audio editing sessions, and one successful thesis defence. I have learned that how we take care of ourselves during testing periods of time is what ultimately impacts our long-term mental health, and, in turn, how that affects our creative processes for future projects.
On convocation day, I felt proud because I completed the hard work involved in a creative production in addition to completing the academic requirements of a Master’s Degree. However, I felt especially grateful to be part of a supportive community of media producers whose creative endeavours, and the personal motivations behind them, came to light despite the many roadblocks that came up in this whirlwind of a year.
SOURCES:
https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/creative-explorations/201503/creativity-and-mental-illness
