Monday, May 6, 2013
Letters on Monday: Leaving a Legacy Behind
So, it's Monday again...which means I left
another anonymous letter for a stranger. This time, I left a card in a
random student's mailbox in the Marywood University MSW program building
(Campbell Hall) at DeSales University. I spent 3 years
in that building and tonight, after picking something up from Mar, the
administrative assistant, I left that building for the last time. I know
that sounds dramatic, but I really wanted to leave something behind.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
A Lesson in Fear
There are things of which I am afraid, like spiders for example...or driving to unknown destinations...or one of my kitties getting sick. These fears, though real, are somewhat driven by vague paranoia or worry or conditioning. They are fears which my husband, Rick, thinks have formed within me for no good reason.
But when I returned home from a short run today, Rick offhandedly added another item to the list of "Female Fears" and I had to set him straight.
While on my short run in my own neighborhood, in broad daylight, men cat-called out their car windows. Whether they whistled, yelled "wooooo!" or used actual words, it didn't matter - I was disgusted. How nice it would be, I mused as I ran, to be able to go for a run or a walk without being yelled at disrespectfully from moving cars. When a car slowed down for its owner to stare at me and shout, I tensed up, quickly looking left and right to be sure that I wasn't far from other people. Why? I was kind of afraid. Not terribly, horrifically petrified. Not wildly sure I was in imminent danger. But still afraid.
So when I came home, I told Rick of my quick but fleeting desire to display my middle finger to all the men who had just yelled at me from their car windows while I minded my own business on a beautiful spring day. And he told me that would be asking for trouble. Furthermore, it's not in character for me. So I just nodded and said, "It's stuff like that which makes me afraid to stop and get gas alone at night," referring to something I've told him before.
Then he made a light remark about how that was "one of those fears" - like spiders or other fake danger - that was "instilled" in me.
So I had to rewind the tape and say, "Yes. It IS instilled in me. But it's instilled in me for good reason." It is not some ridiculous, paranoid fear cultivated by my mother or TV. Granted, I don't want fear to run my life or stop me from living in a world full of good people, but sometimes the fear COMES from somewhere.
So I told him where.
I told him that when I was 14 and was walking home from school, a group of 4 men pulled up alongside me in a car, their heads and arms hanging menacingly from the windows. They cat-called and yelled at me, and when I didn't pay any attention, they slithered next to me in the car at just a few miles per hour, following me. I was afraid. I ran to the nearest busy street and from then on, walked home on a very public route with lots of traffic.
I told him that when I was 15 and was walking home from school, just before I could make it to where that "public route" began, a man on foot yelled and flashed me his whole naked body. There was no one else around. I ran as fast as I could. If step 1 was flashing me, I didn't know if step 2 would be chasing me. Or catching me. Or raping me.
I didn't even tell my mom about the flasher for several years...because I thought she'd never let me walk home alone again...and I didn't want my freedom compromised because a man chose to disrespect me. I didn't want to live my life in fear of something like that happening again. Oh, to dream...
When I was 21, out at a club for Halloween with a group of friends, a man tried dancing with me. I moved away. He tried again. I moved away. He held onto me while dancing. I gave him a stern look and moved away. He put his hands UP my shirt. I jumped away and yelled, "STOP!" If you can believe it, he kept trying to talk to me. He put his hands UP my SKIRT and held onto my butt. I turned around, slapped him in the face, and told him my body was not his to touch. And I am one of the most non-violent people you'll ever meet. He still hung around, next to me. When I started to leave with my friends, he grabbed my arm and tried to talk me into staying with him. I tried to jerk away and said - still politely - that my friends were leaving and I was leaving with them. I did get away, but the next morning, I had fingerprint shaped bruises on my arm near the elbow.
I look back on this and wonder why the hell I was so polite in the face of such disrespect. But the answer is simple: fear. I was kind of afraid.
I really want to yell back or say "Leave me alone!" but I usually don't... because ignoring the source or running faster seems safer. And that really makes me mad.
There's a line between unwanted attention and harassment. A lot of people cross it. And when I can see the line, I become afraid. "Oh, how annoying!" can turn into shaking knees and a racing heart. I've experienced it.
So is it sad that I'm afraid to pump gas alone at night? Yes. But not because I'm nonsensical.
And maybe there is no real danger 9 times out of 10 when I feel that fear. But the fear is there for a reason - it was cultivated by real instances - and that is the piece that shouldn't be ignored.
But when I returned home from a short run today, Rick offhandedly added another item to the list of "Female Fears" and I had to set him straight.
While on my short run in my own neighborhood, in broad daylight, men cat-called out their car windows. Whether they whistled, yelled "wooooo!" or used actual words, it didn't matter - I was disgusted. How nice it would be, I mused as I ran, to be able to go for a run or a walk without being yelled at disrespectfully from moving cars. When a car slowed down for its owner to stare at me and shout, I tensed up, quickly looking left and right to be sure that I wasn't far from other people. Why? I was kind of afraid. Not terribly, horrifically petrified. Not wildly sure I was in imminent danger. But still afraid.
So when I came home, I told Rick of my quick but fleeting desire to display my middle finger to all the men who had just yelled at me from their car windows while I minded my own business on a beautiful spring day. And he told me that would be asking for trouble. Furthermore, it's not in character for me. So I just nodded and said, "It's stuff like that which makes me afraid to stop and get gas alone at night," referring to something I've told him before.
Then he made a light remark about how that was "one of those fears" - like spiders or other fake danger - that was "instilled" in me.
So I had to rewind the tape and say, "Yes. It IS instilled in me. But it's instilled in me for good reason." It is not some ridiculous, paranoid fear cultivated by my mother or TV. Granted, I don't want fear to run my life or stop me from living in a world full of good people, but sometimes the fear COMES from somewhere.
So I told him where.
I told him that when I was 14 and was walking home from school, a group of 4 men pulled up alongside me in a car, their heads and arms hanging menacingly from the windows. They cat-called and yelled at me, and when I didn't pay any attention, they slithered next to me in the car at just a few miles per hour, following me. I was afraid. I ran to the nearest busy street and from then on, walked home on a very public route with lots of traffic.
I told him that when I was 15 and was walking home from school, just before I could make it to where that "public route" began, a man on foot yelled and flashed me his whole naked body. There was no one else around. I ran as fast as I could. If step 1 was flashing me, I didn't know if step 2 would be chasing me. Or catching me. Or raping me.
I didn't even tell my mom about the flasher for several years...because I thought she'd never let me walk home alone again...and I didn't want my freedom compromised because a man chose to disrespect me. I didn't want to live my life in fear of something like that happening again. Oh, to dream...
When I was 21, out at a club for Halloween with a group of friends, a man tried dancing with me. I moved away. He tried again. I moved away. He held onto me while dancing. I gave him a stern look and moved away. He put his hands UP my shirt. I jumped away and yelled, "STOP!" If you can believe it, he kept trying to talk to me. He put his hands UP my SKIRT and held onto my butt. I turned around, slapped him in the face, and told him my body was not his to touch. And I am one of the most non-violent people you'll ever meet. He still hung around, next to me. When I started to leave with my friends, he grabbed my arm and tried to talk me into staying with him. I tried to jerk away and said - still politely - that my friends were leaving and I was leaving with them. I did get away, but the next morning, I had fingerprint shaped bruises on my arm near the elbow.
I look back on this and wonder why the hell I was so polite in the face of such disrespect. But the answer is simple: fear. I was kind of afraid.
I really want to yell back or say "Leave me alone!" but I usually don't... because ignoring the source or running faster seems safer. And that really makes me mad.
There's a line between unwanted attention and harassment. A lot of people cross it. And when I can see the line, I become afraid. "Oh, how annoying!" can turn into shaking knees and a racing heart. I've experienced it.
So is it sad that I'm afraid to pump gas alone at night? Yes. But not because I'm nonsensical.
And maybe there is no real danger 9 times out of 10 when I feel that fear. But the fear is there for a reason - it was cultivated by real instances - and that is the piece that shouldn't be ignored.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Letters on Monday: GRADitude
So, it's Monday again... which means I left
another letter. This time it isn't anonymous and it isn't to a stranger,
but I have my reasons. Tonight marked the very last class of grad
school...the end of a 3 year journey...for me...and for a
group of really high caliber people I like to call friends. I've
abandoned the "handwritten" aspect of my letter writing for this
evening, because I need a way for all of them to see the letter...and it
is no short note. Too often in this life, people feel gratitude but
refrain from expressing it in its purest form. So, thank you, Amanda, Jennifer, Jessie, Kristen, January, Rebekah, Jenny, Tonya, Cindy, Jenn, Sarah, Vanessa, Fanny, Tammy, Lynette... this is for YOU. Read on...
Dear awesome & amazing classmates,
The first day of school was a whirlwind. Part of me felt like a 10 year old again, getting my notebooks ready and coming down the stairs shouting, "First day of school!" The only difference this time around was that I was shouting it to a husband and I was on my way to work first.
I had a little anxiety – over directions (getting to the school and then finding the right building on the campus), over time management, and over how long I'd have for dinner between work and school. It was a challenge getting used to where my work day ended and my school day (night?) began. When I felt overwhelmed about what was in store for me, I pep talked myself with: “Lots of people do it, right?” Then I met “lots of people,” namely, all of you.
When I started the MSW program in August of 2010, I bounced into the lobby of Campbell Hall and sat in an empty row of chairs among many other empty chairs that were lined up for the “New Student Welcome.” The first friend I made was Brianna, who chatted with me about our similar undergrad degrees, and has since graduated before us and moved on. The second friend I made was Amanda. This was before little Jaxson existed, before her pregnancy was even a thought, and before we knew what was in store for us in the three years to come.
It was easy to feel mentally and physically exhausted thinking about juggling full-time work, marriage, a bunch of commitments, and a seriously intensive grad school program, but as I sat there and listened to Dr. Black welcome us and talk about social work, I was completely content. "This is exactly where I am supposed to be," I thought. "This is the best choice I could ever have made." Everything felt like it was falling into place. And slowly but surely, all of you fell into place in my life too.
After my first night of grad school, I wrote in my journal:
“I got home at 10:15 PM and I had gotten up before 7 AM so here's to 15+ hour days, but as a friend told me, ‘When you're tired and you're going to class and you feel like you just can't do it, remember there's a girl out there somewhere right now with an eating disorder, crying and just hanging on for a little while longer so that YOU will be the one to help her.’ So that's what I'll do. I can't say I'm looking forward to all the work, but I am really looking forward to getting to know all the wonderful social workers in the program, both instructors and grad students. We all work, we all have commitments, and we're all there to make a difference. The stories were great and if every night, though painfully long, is as good as my first night, I think I'm in for a really rewarding experience.”
It HAS been rewarding, and mostly because I was able to share the experience with all of you. We are of all ages, all occupations, and all walks of life – I truly feel that I have learned more from you than from textbooks and syllabi bullet points. You have always offered kind words and open ears. You ARE social workers, after all. :-) Eventually, I became acquainted with each and every one of you and I am definitely a better person because of knowing you. Discussing families, pets, jobs, and mutual interests with all of you has been a highlight of the last three years for me. From long drives to school functions (Tammy, which one of us was Thelma & which one of us was Louise?) to hysterical laughter to venting over professors, it has been a pleasure.
Feeling gratitude is key, but expressing that gratitude is something that few people actually do. I want you all to know how thankful I am for your friendship and presence in my graduate school journey and I’m not afraid to tell you.
My student association crew – Jessie, Jenny, Jennifer – we worked together like we had been leading the student body for years. I can’t tell you how many times people have thanked us for helping them or for being a positive and enthusiastic presence. Jenny can be counted on to handle any situation – from finances to planning a beautiful Advocacy Day to using her voice to make sure things get done right. Jessie somehow has 4 children, a husband, a job, and had time to devote to the student body, not to mention grad school itself. I found all of that amazing when I thought she only had TWO kids…then when I found out about halfway through this 3 year program that she had FOUR kids, I was a) shocked that it was even possible for her to have TEENAGE kids in the first place and b) concerned for her sanity. ;-) Jennifer gave voice to a unique form of social work, always ready with a song (I have a video of her serenading Jenny, Jessie, and me that she won’t allow me to share), and always willing to go to bat for other students.
There are days when I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to really get to know some of you. It has been an honor to befriend you and I could go on for pages and pages, just calling you out by name and commemorating our time together with little stories and recollections of specific memories while I embarrass the daylights out of you…but I won’t. :-) Our Facebook “support groups” were fantastic (and fantastically funny at times). What would we have done without them?!
You are all so unique and so amazing…and you won’t get rid of me simply because this journey has ended (and I mean that in the most un-stalker-ish way possible). :-) Thank you for being you, through every week and every step of this journey. I have never met a better bunch of people.
With love,
Arielle
Dear awesome & amazing classmates,
The first day of school was a whirlwind. Part of me felt like a 10 year old again, getting my notebooks ready and coming down the stairs shouting, "First day of school!" The only difference this time around was that I was shouting it to a husband and I was on my way to work first.
I had a little anxiety – over directions (getting to the school and then finding the right building on the campus), over time management, and over how long I'd have for dinner between work and school. It was a challenge getting used to where my work day ended and my school day (night?) began. When I felt overwhelmed about what was in store for me, I pep talked myself with: “Lots of people do it, right?” Then I met “lots of people,” namely, all of you.
When I started the MSW program in August of 2010, I bounced into the lobby of Campbell Hall and sat in an empty row of chairs among many other empty chairs that were lined up for the “New Student Welcome.” The first friend I made was Brianna, who chatted with me about our similar undergrad degrees, and has since graduated before us and moved on. The second friend I made was Amanda. This was before little Jaxson existed, before her pregnancy was even a thought, and before we knew what was in store for us in the three years to come.
It was easy to feel mentally and physically exhausted thinking about juggling full-time work, marriage, a bunch of commitments, and a seriously intensive grad school program, but as I sat there and listened to Dr. Black welcome us and talk about social work, I was completely content. "This is exactly where I am supposed to be," I thought. "This is the best choice I could ever have made." Everything felt like it was falling into place. And slowly but surely, all of you fell into place in my life too.
After my first night of grad school, I wrote in my journal:
“I got home at 10:15 PM and I had gotten up before 7 AM so here's to 15+ hour days, but as a friend told me, ‘When you're tired and you're going to class and you feel like you just can't do it, remember there's a girl out there somewhere right now with an eating disorder, crying and just hanging on for a little while longer so that YOU will be the one to help her.’ So that's what I'll do. I can't say I'm looking forward to all the work, but I am really looking forward to getting to know all the wonderful social workers in the program, both instructors and grad students. We all work, we all have commitments, and we're all there to make a difference. The stories were great and if every night, though painfully long, is as good as my first night, I think I'm in for a really rewarding experience.”
It HAS been rewarding, and mostly because I was able to share the experience with all of you. We are of all ages, all occupations, and all walks of life – I truly feel that I have learned more from you than from textbooks and syllabi bullet points. You have always offered kind words and open ears. You ARE social workers, after all. :-) Eventually, I became acquainted with each and every one of you and I am definitely a better person because of knowing you. Discussing families, pets, jobs, and mutual interests with all of you has been a highlight of the last three years for me. From long drives to school functions (Tammy, which one of us was Thelma & which one of us was Louise?) to hysterical laughter to venting over professors, it has been a pleasure.
Feeling gratitude is key, but expressing that gratitude is something that few people actually do. I want you all to know how thankful I am for your friendship and presence in my graduate school journey and I’m not afraid to tell you.
My student association crew – Jessie, Jenny, Jennifer – we worked together like we had been leading the student body for years. I can’t tell you how many times people have thanked us for helping them or for being a positive and enthusiastic presence. Jenny can be counted on to handle any situation – from finances to planning a beautiful Advocacy Day to using her voice to make sure things get done right. Jessie somehow has 4 children, a husband, a job, and had time to devote to the student body, not to mention grad school itself. I found all of that amazing when I thought she only had TWO kids…then when I found out about halfway through this 3 year program that she had FOUR kids, I was a) shocked that it was even possible for her to have TEENAGE kids in the first place and b) concerned for her sanity. ;-) Jennifer gave voice to a unique form of social work, always ready with a song (I have a video of her serenading Jenny, Jessie, and me that she won’t allow me to share), and always willing to go to bat for other students.
There are days when I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to really get to know some of you. It has been an honor to befriend you and I could go on for pages and pages, just calling you out by name and commemorating our time together with little stories and recollections of specific memories while I embarrass the daylights out of you…but I won’t. :-) Our Facebook “support groups” were fantastic (and fantastically funny at times). What would we have done without them?!
You are all so unique and so amazing…and you won’t get rid of me simply because this journey has ended (and I mean that in the most un-stalker-ish way possible). :-) Thank you for being you, through every week and every step of this journey. I have never met a better bunch of people.
With love,
Arielle
Monday, April 22, 2013
Letters on Monday: A Mermaid Between Friends
So,
it's Monday again...which means I left another anonymous letter for a
stranger. This time, I left it in a women's bathroom in Subway on
Hanover Avenue, Allentown. Bathrooms are my favorite places to leave
letters because I always know my letter will be read by a woman...and
one of these days I am going to leave a letter, use the bathroom myself,
and try to WAIT to see who comes across it and reads
it. In case the letter is hard for you to read, it says: "Dear awesome
person - Mermaids are my favorite and mermaid cards are my favorite
cards. I only give them to special people, because I love to keep them
and look at them myself. But you are special. You're full of promise. Be
happy knowing you are someone special and let that light shine out into
the world. People see it, even when you think they don't. Think of
yourself as a flower. And every time you think or say something bad
about yourself, you are ripping a petal off. If you do it enough, pretty
soon you'll have no petals left...and you'll be just a stem with
nothing left. Or worse yet, you will die. Be a beautiful flower, not a
dying stem. Love, a friend"
Monday, April 15, 2013
Letters on Monday: A Note to Boston
So, it's Monday again...which means I left
another anonymous letter to a stranger. This time, in light of the
horrific and shocking events in Boston today, I decided to write this
note...and I looked in the Boston phonebook online and sent it to a
random Red Cross site there. I figured they saw some rough things...and
even if they didn't, this happened in their own backyard.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Letters on Monday: Spring Inspiration
So, it's Monday again! Which means I left
another anonymous letter for a stranger. This time, I chose bright lime
green paper - because it reflected my bright spring mood. I bought some
dinner at Primo Hoagies in Allentown and decided on a whim
to leave my letter at the counter when I left with my food. I really
wanted the cashier who rang me up to "find" it, so I hope she did. I
left it there at the cash register after she had given me my order and
had turned away. She had a tattoo on her arm, short buzzed hair, and was
professing her love for Missy Elliot (one of her songs was playing) to
her boss while she was making my food.
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