At times when I’m having difficulty expressing remembrance, I start:
One by one, our guests entered the dining area, to record a segment for the show. We were at a shelter interviewing several occupants, during the process of their intervention. Per our request, they stated their name, age, ethnicity & drug of choice.
As they spoke, the answers we received varied. Some used a particular drug, while other’s graduated from one substance to something stronger.
The commonalities the responses shared, was trying to obtain the orgasmic euphoria of their 1st high; which always seemed to elude them. Or momentarily numbing oneself to reality; leading to higher dosages.
From that day, a specific story touched me deeply. It was the story of a woman, who got strung out on crack cocaine at the age of 45. I remember thinking; she’s a little long in the tooth to be peer pressured. Who in their right mind tries crack of all drugs so late in life?
As her story progressed she told us she was a former Nurse. I automatically turned my nose up saying to myself, if anyone knows the detrimental side effects of drugs, is a healthcare professional. Now look at her: throwing a woe is me pity party, she should have known better! Two minutes into her story, I deemed her all types of stupid & the dumbest Nurse I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.
When she finally explained the 1st time she got high & why….. was breathtaking.
She rehashed the stress of her job & life: double shifts at the hospital, a mother to 3 boys, catering to a husband, and insufficient rest. The haunting way she described her fatigue captivated everyone’s attention. She told us, one night during overtime, she went into a hall closet in hopes to take a much needed nap. Inside the closet she found a fellow co-worker smoking crack.
She described her initial shock and attempt to flee. She said her co-worker pulled her by the arm and said try some, I do it all the time. She stated what she remembers most about that night was her co-worker holding up a crack pipe telling her, “This right here, is what gets me through all these hours.”
Those words intrigued her tiredness, urging her to try. She said before inhaling she rationalized if her co-worker did it, it couldn’t be that bad. She said her co-worker was always energized & carried out their duties without difficulty.To this 45 year old woman, the offering of crack was viewed as a solution. So she breathe it in…..
She went on to describe her first high to us. Instead of energy she obtained a sense of calm that evaporated her many stresses. That calm got her through the night and home to her children & spouse. At home in bed with her husband, she explained her craving and a strong desire to smoke again.
Unlike her co-worker, she was strung out in a matter of months.
Getting high started to affect her performance at work & her hours were reduced. Due to her pay cut she started stealing hospital supplies to purchase crack. Eventually she was caught and terminated. With no income of her own, she started selling items from her house & stealing from family members.
The more detailed her story became; she started rocking back & forth as if in a trance. Telling us:
I lost my job. My husband divorced me & got sole custody of our children. Do you know they won’t allow me to see my boys? My own children. My babies …
I lost the home I lived in for 10 years and none of my family members will take me in.
Her rocking started to slow down and she whispered: All because I was tired
I lost everything I’ve ever owned & loved because I was tired.
She stated: I just wanted to stay awake…. I needed energy… something to help me….. anything.
Then she stopped speaking.
At this point I was crying for her & my own naiveté.
In my premature assessment - I detested this woman as if she was unwanted shit on the bottom of my shoe. In my eyes she was a 50 something year old crack head. Who was dumb enough to get strung out at the age of 45. What did her presence add to the discussion if she didn’t know what was best for herself? (At that point in my life I held adults at a high regard, believing they were immune to mistakes)
At the age of 19, I didn’t have many responsibilities. Yet alone fathom what it took to be a nurse, mother or wife…..
As we wrapped up the interview, I went up to this woman and I asked: can I give you a hug? She smiled weakly and said yes. As I embraced her, I knew I couldn’t tell this mother/ex-wife/former nurse within a few minutes of her story, I thought she was an idiot and how harsh I judged her. I wished through the seconds our bodies touched, not only could I eliminate her pain but to nonverbally express my sincerest apology.
During my peak of adolescence, judgmentalism embodied my being. I was a self proclaimed “know it all”. If I didn’t see it, I didn’t believe. You either held my vision or blocked your own view.
To oppose my thoughts, seldom lead me to conceive a different perspective. It simply enabled me to call another whatever negative(s), entered my mind, fastest.
Until I was humbled…….
In 1996, due to a leg injury, I was placed on home instruction. When I returned to school in 1997, I was drastically behind my peers. To catch up, I doubled up on classes & took night courses. Upon my 18th birthday, I was 12 credits shy of receiving my high school diploma. I wanted to expedite the process to graduate & scheduled a conference with my guidance counselor. Only to be “advised” that I drop out and get a G.E.D. To say I was insulted is an understatement.
Yet, that misguidance changed my life.
I enrolled in an alternative H.S. & I loved it (getting a G.E.D. wasn’t an option after I bust my ass to catch up). In my new school, I was no longer chastised for being outspoken & challenging educators. They actually welcomed it. During the first couple of months, I was in my GLORY! Gone were the days of detention. They placed me on the debate council (smile) I was “queen know it all” LOL… You couldn’t tell me NOTHING! (smile again)
I was living high on the hog, when my grade advisor came & knocked me down.
She told me about a program called Teen Talk Radio, where students earned credits as interns. I recall sucking my teeth as I told her: I don’t even listen to the radio. So what are you telling me for? As a mentioned earlier, my grade advisor knocked me off my high hog & I interviewed for T.T.
Trying out for the program was bothersome due to my disinterest. As I sat down with Susan Mondzak & Toni Dickerson my indifference intensified. Until, I was asked a particular question.
I remember Susan stating, I see that you like to write poetry. I gave her a dry, mmm hmmm. Then she asked me: Who’s your favorite poet? I rolled my eyes thinking to myself: I bet this white lady & her black side kick, think I’m about to say Shakespeare or Edgar Allen Poe to impress her. So, I looked her dead in the eye & and said: MYSELF! I was waiting for her to laugh, call me crazy, an idiot, or pass the same judgment I often placed upon others. But, Susan looked at me with endearment & smiled sincerely.
That was the beginning of my lessons learned through others….
My internship was a 5 day a week, reality check.
It taught me about redemption, the harsh realities of the world, unseen sacrifices, immorality, the judicial system, homosexuality, worldly affairs.. etc.
But , more importantly it left a lasting impression teaching me about myself. It’s as if everything I’ve ever judged, I was given the opportunity to place under a microscope for deeper understanding/evaluation.
Vivid memories:
For a show about racism, we interviewed an all white panel of students. When they were asked: What race do you dislike? The majority of them openly stated “blacks”. I wanted to leave the room or punch one of them in the face. I’ve never been up close & personal with racism and was angered. I recall Susan looked over & made a gesture indicating for me to relax… so I did.
As they were giving their answers, a female student recalled being a little girl. Whenever her mother traveled & saw "blacks" she’d either change directions, or grasped her daughters hand tightly - until, they were out of their vicinity into safety. She stated her mother never verbalized her dislike, but unconsciously taught her daughter through her actions. The female student went on to say she hated blacks for existing & causing fear in the strongest person she knew.... her mother.
***
For a show about HIV/AIDS awareness, we interviewed a panel at a prevention conference. I remember stepping off the elevator into the midst of commotion.. In the middle of a crowd was one of the most beautiful Latin female I’ve ever seen. Numerous guests/participants were practically falling at her feet. Dressed in all white; she stood regal in a poised demeanor. Indifferent to the attention she received.
Like so many others in attendance, I was hypnotized by her presence - as Susan rushed us to set up our equipment.
There’s something about a microphone and camera that makes people swarm in its direction. As a crowd gathered around us, the lady in white quietly made her way over. She asked if she could make a statement and we obliged. Everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing to see what she had to say. Upon saying her name she calmly stated she had full blown AIDS. The room instantly went quiet as we looked at her in shocked disbelief. What she said was reminiscent of the following:
For a show about Jail Vs Education, we interviewed inmates from Rikers, Island Academy - during Black History Month. Our guest of honor was S.E. Anderson author of “The Black Holocaust For Beginners”. I spoke with this gentleman for over two hours (the amount of time it took to get processed, allowing entrance into the correctional facility) I was in extremely high spirits (I was given a personalized/autography copy of his book). Unbeknownst to me I was about to be sent to a higher plateau.
After our equipment was set up, the C.O.'s brought in the inmates/students. I was surprised at their scraggly appearances, and thought the ordeal we went through to meet them was a wasted effort. Until I heard them speak.
Some of them were straight up knuckleheads, bragging about jail making them better criminals. The rest spoke of their struggles, gang affiliation, hardships, homelessness, abusive group homes, their environments, survival skills, lack of family structure, the revolving door of repeat offenders, their perception of life and what they hoped to change about themselves upon their release. I was taken aback because to look at these young men you’d think they were unintelligent scum of the earth. They were everything, but. Furthering my amazement; enclosing - the inmates bestowed a spoken word/poetry session, which was...... PHENOMENAL!
***
For a show about suicide and depression, we interviewed crisis center employees, family members of the afflicted, survivors and a psychiatrist. On this occasion I was a guest and a part of the panel.
10 minutes before we went on the air I was apprehensive. This was the first time I would openly speak about my experience. Whoever was tuned into 91.5fm would hear a part of my life many were oblivious to. When I saw the “ON AIR” sign there was no turning back.
Throughout the duration of the show we sited statics for suicide, dealing with depression, numbers & addresses to outreach centers and positive affirmations. To ensure the seriousness of this matter was grasped, members from the crisis center closed the show. They gave us accounts of the calls they received on a daily basis. Individuals were depressed or on the brink of suicide due to: a failing grade, no place to live, parenting, rape, lack of income, a cheating spouse/lover, drug addiction, peer pressure, domineering careers, anorexia, bulimia.. etc. Many of them were popular - tired of pretending to be something they weren't - or tired of hiding how they truly felt. They described what it was like to calm someone down, offering alternatives..... and those who took matters into their own hands.
****
The illustrations above are “the tip of the iceberg” of my experience(s) at teen talk radio. My 6 months as an intern, chiseled the foundation of who I am today. Casting away many of my judgments; gaining the gift of empathy - surmounting compassion.
There’s so much I may not be able to experience, but to each person I met, I gained understanding. I've learned listening and paying attention are two different things. It takes more than uninterrupted silence to comprehend another's life via words.
This is where I'm suppose to say:
In the middle……
One by one, our guests entered the dining area, to record a segment for the show. We were at a shelter interviewing several occupants, during the process of their intervention. Per our request, they stated their name, age, ethnicity & drug of choice.
The commonalities the responses shared, was trying to obtain the orgasmic euphoria of their 1st high; which always seemed to elude them. Or momentarily numbing oneself to reality; leading to higher dosages.
From that day, a specific story touched me deeply. It was the story of a woman, who got strung out on crack cocaine at the age of 45. I remember thinking; she’s a little long in the tooth to be peer pressured. Who in their right mind tries crack of all drugs so late in life?
As her story progressed she told us she was a former Nurse. I automatically turned my nose up saying to myself, if anyone knows the detrimental side effects of drugs, is a healthcare professional. Now look at her: throwing a woe is me pity party, she should have known better! Two minutes into her story, I deemed her all types of stupid & the dumbest Nurse I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.
When she finally explained the 1st time she got high & why….. was breathtaking.
She rehashed the stress of her job & life: double shifts at the hospital, a mother to 3 boys, catering to a husband, and insufficient rest. The haunting way she described her fatigue captivated everyone’s attention. She told us, one night during overtime, she went into a hall closet in hopes to take a much needed nap. Inside the closet she found a fellow co-worker smoking crack.
She described her initial shock and attempt to flee. She said her co-worker pulled her by the arm and said try some, I do it all the time. She stated what she remembers most about that night was her co-worker holding up a crack pipe telling her, “This right here, is what gets me through all these hours.”
Those words intrigued her tiredness, urging her to try. She said before inhaling she rationalized if her co-worker did it, it couldn’t be that bad. She said her co-worker was always energized & carried out their duties without difficulty.To this 45 year old woman, the offering of crack was viewed as a solution. So she breathe it in…..
She went on to describe her first high to us. Instead of energy she obtained a sense of calm that evaporated her many stresses. That calm got her through the night and home to her children & spouse. At home in bed with her husband, she explained her craving and a strong desire to smoke again.
Unlike her co-worker, she was strung out in a matter of months.
Getting high started to affect her performance at work & her hours were reduced. Due to her pay cut she started stealing hospital supplies to purchase crack. Eventually she was caught and terminated. With no income of her own, she started selling items from her house & stealing from family members.
I lost my job. My husband divorced me & got sole custody of our children. Do you know they won’t allow me to see my boys? My own children. My babies …
I lost the home I lived in for 10 years and none of my family members will take me in.
Her rocking started to slow down and she whispered: All because I was tired
I lost everything I’ve ever owned & loved because I was tired.
She stated: I just wanted to stay awake…. I needed energy… something to help me….. anything.
Then she stopped speaking.
At this point I was crying for her & my own naiveté.
In my premature assessment - I detested this woman as if she was unwanted shit on the bottom of my shoe. In my eyes she was a 50 something year old crack head. Who was dumb enough to get strung out at the age of 45. What did her presence add to the discussion if she didn’t know what was best for herself? (At that point in my life I held adults at a high regard, believing they were immune to mistakes)
At the age of 19, I didn’t have many responsibilities. Yet alone fathom what it took to be a nurse, mother or wife…..
As we wrapped up the interview, I went up to this woman and I asked: can I give you a hug? She smiled weakly and said yes. As I embraced her, I knew I couldn’t tell this mother/ex-wife/former nurse within a few minutes of her story, I thought she was an idiot and how harsh I judged her. I wished through the seconds our bodies touched, not only could I eliminate her pain but to nonverbally express my sincerest apology.
The Beginning…….
During my peak of adolescence, judgmentalism embodied my being. I was a self proclaimed “know it all”. If I didn’t see it, I didn’t believe. You either held my vision or blocked your own view.
To oppose my thoughts, seldom lead me to conceive a different perspective. It simply enabled me to call another whatever negative(s), entered my mind, fastest.
Until I was humbled…….
In 1996, due to a leg injury, I was placed on home instruction. When I returned to school in 1997, I was drastically behind my peers. To catch up, I doubled up on classes & took night courses. Upon my 18th birthday, I was 12 credits shy of receiving my high school diploma. I wanted to expedite the process to graduate & scheduled a conference with my guidance counselor. Only to be “advised” that I drop out and get a G.E.D. To say I was insulted is an understatement.
Yet, that misguidance changed my life.
I enrolled in an alternative H.S. & I loved it (getting a G.E.D. wasn’t an option after I bust my ass to catch up). In my new school, I was no longer chastised for being outspoken & challenging educators. They actually welcomed it. During the first couple of months, I was in my GLORY! Gone were the days of detention. They placed me on the debate council (smile) I was “queen know it all” LOL… You couldn’t tell me NOTHING! (smile again)
I was living high on the hog, when my grade advisor came & knocked me down.
She told me about a program called Teen Talk Radio, where students earned credits as interns. I recall sucking my teeth as I told her: I don’t even listen to the radio. So what are you telling me for? As a mentioned earlier, my grade advisor knocked me off my high hog & I interviewed for T.T.
Trying out for the program was bothersome due to my disinterest. As I sat down with Susan Mondzak & Toni Dickerson my indifference intensified. Until, I was asked a particular question.
I remember Susan stating, I see that you like to write poetry. I gave her a dry, mmm hmmm. Then she asked me: Who’s your favorite poet? I rolled my eyes thinking to myself: I bet this white lady & her black side kick, think I’m about to say Shakespeare or Edgar Allen Poe to impress her. So, I looked her dead in the eye & and said: MYSELF! I was waiting for her to laugh, call me crazy, an idiot, or pass the same judgment I often placed upon others. But, Susan looked at me with endearment & smiled sincerely.
That was the beginning of my lessons learned through others….
It taught me about redemption, the harsh realities of the world, unseen sacrifices, immorality, the judicial system, homosexuality, worldly affairs.. etc.
But , more importantly it left a lasting impression teaching me about myself. It’s as if everything I’ve ever judged, I was given the opportunity to place under a microscope for deeper understanding/evaluation.
Vivid memories:
For a show about racism, we interviewed an all white panel of students. When they were asked: What race do you dislike? The majority of them openly stated “blacks”. I wanted to leave the room or punch one of them in the face. I’ve never been up close & personal with racism and was angered. I recall Susan looked over & made a gesture indicating for me to relax… so I did.
As they were giving their answers, a female student recalled being a little girl. Whenever her mother traveled & saw "blacks" she’d either change directions, or grasped her daughters hand tightly - until, they were out of their vicinity into safety. She stated her mother never verbalized her dislike, but unconsciously taught her daughter through her actions. The female student went on to say she hated blacks for existing & causing fear in the strongest person she knew.... her mother.
***
For a show about HIV/AIDS awareness, we interviewed a panel at a prevention conference. I remember stepping off the elevator into the midst of commotion.. In the middle of a crowd was one of the most beautiful Latin female I’ve ever seen. Numerous guests/participants were practically falling at her feet. Dressed in all white; she stood regal in a poised demeanor. Indifferent to the attention she received.
Like so many others in attendance, I was hypnotized by her presence - as Susan rushed us to set up our equipment.
There’s something about a microphone and camera that makes people swarm in its direction. As a crowd gathered around us, the lady in white quietly made her way over. She asked if she could make a statement and we obliged. Everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing to see what she had to say. Upon saying her name she calmly stated she had full blown AIDS. The room instantly went quiet as we looked at her in shocked disbelief. What she said was reminiscent of the following:
***
For a show about Jail Vs Education, we interviewed inmates from Rikers, Island Academy - during Black History Month. Our guest of honor was S.E. Anderson author of “The Black Holocaust For Beginners”. I spoke with this gentleman for over two hours (the amount of time it took to get processed, allowing entrance into the correctional facility) I was in extremely high spirits (I was given a personalized/autography copy of his book). Unbeknownst to me I was about to be sent to a higher plateau.
Some of them were straight up knuckleheads, bragging about jail making them better criminals. The rest spoke of their struggles, gang affiliation, hardships, homelessness, abusive group homes, their environments, survival skills, lack of family structure, the revolving door of repeat offenders, their perception of life and what they hoped to change about themselves upon their release. I was taken aback because to look at these young men you’d think they were unintelligent scum of the earth. They were everything, but. Furthering my amazement; enclosing - the inmates bestowed a spoken word/poetry session, which was...... PHENOMENAL!
***
For a show about suicide and depression, we interviewed crisis center employees, family members of the afflicted, survivors and a psychiatrist. On this occasion I was a guest and a part of the panel.
Throughout the duration of the show we sited statics for suicide, dealing with depression, numbers & addresses to outreach centers and positive affirmations. To ensure the seriousness of this matter was grasped, members from the crisis center closed the show. They gave us accounts of the calls they received on a daily basis. Individuals were depressed or on the brink of suicide due to: a failing grade, no place to live, parenting, rape, lack of income, a cheating spouse/lover, drug addiction, peer pressure, domineering careers, anorexia, bulimia.. etc. Many of them were popular - tired of pretending to be something they weren't - or tired of hiding how they truly felt. They described what it was like to calm someone down, offering alternatives..... and those who took matters into their own hands.
A moment of silence:
DEPRESSION IS REAL
****
The illustrations above are “the tip of the iceberg” of my experience(s) at teen talk radio. My 6 months as an intern, chiseled the foundation of who I am today. Casting away many of my judgments; gaining the gift of empathy - surmounting compassion.
There’s so much I may not be able to experience, but to each person I met, I gained understanding. I've learned listening and paying attention are two different things. It takes more than uninterrupted silence to comprehend another's life via words.
Always delve deeper than the first glance of surfaces & appearances.
To Those I’ve met & yet to encounter…
FOR YOU I LIVE.
Through helping other’s I wish to meet my demise.
"To be able to look back upon one’s life in satisfaction is to live twice”
This is where I'm suppose to say:
The End
But, Everyday's A New Beginning.......
beautiful absolutely beautiful
ReplyDeleteOMG!!!! THIS IS SUSAN!!!! I DISCOVERED THIS YESTERDAY---MOTHER'S DAY---WHAT A GIFT!!! YOU LEAVE ME SPEECHLESS!!!! JIM READ IT TO ME...I AM OVERWHELMED BEYOND BELIEF!!! IT IS BEYOND BEAUTIFUL.
ReplyDeleteCAN YOU PLEASE SEND ME YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS OR CONTACT INFO TO JIM'S EMAIL AT ivetsfor@gmail.com.
We MUST CONNECT!!!!