the second two weeks of November were two of the most difficult weeks of my life. not the most, but they ranked pretty high up there.
i decided to move to Boston, thinking it would be nice to live near friends (most of whom are part of the "creatively maladjusted" group of young adults from Agape) for once, and earn some money to beef up my savings so that i can travel or continue doing quasi-unpaid jobs in the spring...
easier said than done. searching for a job and place to live in a new city simultaneously is not an easy thing to do, especially when you've never done it before! and especially when you're only looking for temporary work and temporary housing.
it all came to a head on Nov. 11, as i wrote in my journal:
"i am sick, sick, sick of this! all i've been doing for the past weeks is switching between tabs on my browser looking at craigslist and other job and roommate sites. i've had absolutely zero success, and it's gotten to the point where i just feel sick upon thinking about it. it's like drowning, like treading water with tired legs and an out of reach shore. yes, i want to be here near these people, but i don't want to do what it seems like i have to in order to make that happen, which is rent an apartment for $500 and work a full time temp job.... what's wrong? what's wrong is that i've 'gotten off the beam' in order to earn money. what's wrong is that i haven't been listening to or caring for my soul. and i've run out of creativity and passion. i've burnt out."
and of course, after that, things started getting better. a couple of people responded to my inquiries about rooms, i filled out some online job applications, and i took a day off from it all. then, inspired by a new friend, i decided to take a different approach. i decided to swallow my pride and ask for help; to be vulnerable and put myself and my needs out there, to the mercies and graces of the united methodists of boston. would any pastors or members of their congregations be willing and able to take me in for a couple of months?
eight days later, i moved into my new home in Dorchester, with Linda and Gary, two semi-retired methodist pastors, and the next day i had a job interview.
community, community, community! how does anyone survive without it? our society teaches us that we should be able to go it alone and take care of ourselves, be independent and self-reliant -- and, consequently, to isolate ourselves from others, refusing to be vulnerable, to ask for help when we need it, to create a safety net of community; forcing us to rely only on our wits, skills, and personal finances.
as i became more desperate to find a solution to my homeless and jobless situation, i became more aware of how my cultural and class identities played into my dificulties. i realized that it had never crossed my mind to seek out a social service agency that could help me, and that i wouldn't even know how to find one. despite my miniscule savings and lack of income and housing, i didn't identify myself as someone who would need or qualify for that kind of assistance - i had always seen myself on the other side, serving rather than receiving. those were the cultural ideals and experiences i'd been raised with. i could hear myself forming the thought "i never thought i'd be one of 'those' people" and immediately cringed at my use of "those".
would "giving in" and going to an agency for help be a "sign of weakness"? or would it have been a sign of strength? of courage? of humility? to ask for the help i needed, never mind my college degree and middle class ideals, and be willing to cross out the word "those", to erase the line, and let me become a part of "us," to be a recipient of grace rather than a dispenser; to be vulnerable and depend on others' wisdom. even though i did not take that step (although i did in my own small way by emailing all of those unknown methodists), i gained a much greater respect and understanding of people who find themselves in that situation, and made an important discovery about myself along the way.
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