The first event(s) that comes to mind when I was a junior, then a senior, in college. Someone close to me was diagnosed with cancer. Junior year, one of my best friends was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Senior year, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Cancer is only the uncontrolled growth of abnormal cells in the body. Only. For me, this brought the idea of mortality to the forefront of my thoughts and anxiety. The thought that, like autoimmune diseases, cancers result from our body going wild bothered me. Cells that are, at one point, normal reproduce awkwardly causing our bodies or a specific organ system to essentially shut down if left untreated. What? Literally self-destruction. At the age of 20, this was a complete and total shock. My best friend wasn't supposed to get cancer... she is so young. My mom wasn't supposed to get cancer... she is so health conscious and exercises daily. Thank goodness both my mom and my best friend were treated and now in remission for their cancers via radiation and chemotherapy, respectively, but it still awoke in me a troubling thought.
When we're younger, we're not aware of our own mortality. We live life like we're invincible and take stupid risks, make stupid decisions, and live with general disregard brazenly slapping on the annoying idiom of "YOLO!" Now I am not arguing that you shouldn't live your life to its fullest, but I am not championing for taking unnecessary risks that ensure negative consequences or results. I think people should chant "YOLOBTIT!" You only live once, but think it through. The thought of going into adulthood without one of my best friends was traumatizing. We have shared so much throughout the years, supported one another through various lows and celebrated various highs. We can get together and talk and it literally feels as if no time has passed. Could I live without her unconditional support regardless of the geographical distance, regardless of the time elapsed between our conversations, longer still, our hang-outs?
If that wasn't enough, the thought of living without my mom was a harder pill to swallow. When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer we hadn't even began to scratch the surface of our "adult" relationship yet. Throughout the years our relationship has grown and developed into something that Hallmark would write a greeting card about and Lifetime would make a unnecessarily sappy movie about probably starring Rob Lowe. Could I live without my mom sharing future milestones with me? My wedding? The birth of my first, second, and third child? God willing, the birth of my children's children? Looking back at all of the proverbial ledges she talked me down from when my anxiety was going haywire, the various attempts to mend my broken heart, and the multiple times she was uplifting when my confidence was shaky made me appreciate her for more than just being my mother, but for a woman who has lived life and so full of life experience that she can say things and ensure me that everything and, more importantly, I would be ok. Most importantly, she made me believe it. Could I live without that?
The second event was when I was in grad school in Virginia. Up until this point, I was feeling as if I was on top of the world. I was crushing it in my Forensic Psychology program, killed it at my internship, had a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and family and friends that supported me in all of my endeavors. The only worry that I did have at the time was hearing from these doctoral programs. This problem consumed me. I wanted (still want) it so bad. I worked so hard. I am so passionate about my desire to get immersed in the field. I DESERVED it (example of the false sense of entitlement I had). I had already received three rejection letters and was waiting to hear from two more, one of which was from the school that was number one on my list. The names of the universities will remain undisclosed to protect their identity and help them save face for the stupid decision they made of not accepting me in their various programs (HA).
In the midst of this apprehensive game I had with the mailman, patiently waiting until he vacated the apartment mailbox just to see if I had a letter from a prospective program, I received news from a loved one telling me of a medical condition that essentially would require a significant lifestyle change. The news was scary, devastating, anxiety provoking, you name it. It literally rocked my world. That very night I received my fourth and fifth rejection letters from the schools I was waiting to hear from. You know what, I didn't even care. The priority was no longer doctoral programs and graduation, but it had shifted to the well-being, happiness, and love of my loved one. The world seemed to melt away in that instant. My priorities had been grossly distorted, but in that instant they became clear. My true wants and priorities in life became evident and at that moment, the doctoral programs were definitely not at the top of the list.
Lastly, everyone who knows me knows how passionate I am about my work and my work product. I will sacrifice lunch breaks, work on projects on my own time, and go the extra mile for a client when I am able. As of late, the work environment has changed ever-so-slightly. Ok, less ever-so-slightly and more like extremely. Until recently I never realized the similarities between the job place and high school. It's eerie. The only difference being that I was able to fly under the radar in high school and avoid the drama. Now, I feel as if I am smack dab in the middle of it all.
Now, working in the predominantly male, quasi-military environment comes with a few expectations which seemingly sets feminism and women's rights back a few hundred years. As a female, you're expected to be looked at. Expected to be talked about. Expected to be objectified. Expected to be hit on. Unfortunately, it should also be noted that you may be subjected to nasty rumors. In my experience, granted it may be a bit biased considering I am too close to the situation, it appears that this is much worse for young, single, and dare I say attractive women. Most times these things can just roll off one's back, but it also may effect one's motivation and desire to work. Having to deal with the daily responsibilities of the job and field rumors about one's relationships, or alleged relationships, can be trying. What's worse, those in supervisory positions may not take the time to differentiate between what is rumor and what is fact and treat you based off of what he or she hears, regardless of the validity. The problem then arises that they cannot technically hold you accountable or reprimand you for these "relationships" because no where in the contract does it say you cannot have relationships with these men (not clients), but they begin to hold you at a higher standard than your coworkers--ensuring that you cross your t's and dot your i's.
Additionally, women may now be subjected to the residual consequences of women who've made mistakes before you. Women who had affairs with other married men. Women who had sexual relations in various locations of the prison. Women who couldn't handle relationships going south. Women who slept around with multiple men at the workplace. Women who have had sex with inmates. On one hand they tell you that you're a valuable employee, an asset to the company, but on the other hand, they are punishing you preemptively because of your alleged relationships and the supervisors essentially don't want to be caught with their pants down.
Due to this culmination of job stress, I decided to apply and recently interviewed for the U.S. Federal Probation Office. I am not necessarily looking for a new job, but this was an opportunity I didn't want to slip by. As I've said, despite all of the added stress, I love the job that I do. I love helping the clients. I was told to allow 45 minutes for the panel interview (of 3 men and 2 women of varying rank within the U.S. Probation). My interview lasted an hour and a half. I felt super confident. I felt that the panel talked me up, stating that they loved the fact that I have drug and alcohol abuse treatment in my background and that I currently worked with offenders because that means I already knew how to talk to them. I was feeling great! That was two weeks ago.
Yesterday I received a rejection letter in the mail from the U.S. Federal Probation Office stating that I didn't get the job. This reminded me of the multiple times I had been rejected from doctoral programs. It was a short, two-paragraph letter of the generic nature. You know the kind where they have a stock note and copy your name in various areas of the letter, thanking me for my time, but apologizing that I wasn't selected. Nothing special. Nothing unique. Nothing specific. I was bummed. I was downright sad. This was an instance where I put the carriage before the horse and was super excited about the possibilities of a new job. The possibility of starting over. The possibility of contributing to something bigger. The possibility of running away from the drama at work.
I didn't understand why I didn't get the job. I thought the interview was stellar. I met, no exceeded, all of the requirements. I was passionate. I answered all of the interview questions like my mom, my mom's best friend, and I had practiced. I wanted that job. I DESERVED that job. Well, turns out I didn't. Having talked to a few people at work, it was revealed to me that most times, getting jobs in probation, whether it federal or state, rely heavily on who you know, not necessarily what you know. It's political. It's not fair.
Coincidentally, that same day at work I had to facilitate a group curriculum entitled, "Life is Not Fair." How fitting. Essentially, this curriculum touched on things that would appear to be common sense, but for most people, unless it's pointed out to you, can go without notice. People are dealt different hands. Some have it easier than others. Some work harder than others. You have the ability to change your fate if you decide to work hard enough. Bottom line, you can change your perspective to change your outlook. By looking at things from a different perspective you can begin to understand, cope, and move on from things in life that you felt were unfair. If we continuously live our lives like the world owes us something just because we feel a sense of entitlement just makes things worse for us. We won't learn how to work harder for what we want. We will still live with the idea that things should be handed to us because that would be "fair."
Side note: I also learned that milk cows, the ones that give us the milk we drink, continuously have to be pregnant or nursing in order to produce and provide us with milk. My mind was blown! I mean, it makes sense, but as a girl who didn't grow up in the country or on a farm it really was fascinating.
Upon hearing the news of my most recent rejection, friends texted things like: "It happened for a reason," "That means there's something better ahead," and the like. First, these are great friends. At the time it annoyed me because, like the rejection letter, it just felt empty and generic. Changing my perspective showed me that they did care. They knew how much I wanted, needed, this job. They empathized and sympathized with me. They just didn't know what to say, like when a loved one passes and someone says "They're in a better place now." I have great friends. One recently told me that God doesn't forget the good people. I sure hope he's right, but until then, I'll be here doing a job that I genuinely love and being grateful for the things that I am blessed with because all in all, I don't have it so bad. Life is fair. It's all a matter of taking a step back and changing our perspective.
