defined.

in⋅def⋅i⋅nite [in-def-uh-nit]
–adjective

My New Job

By now you’ve probably heard that I started a new job (If not, I apologize.  The rumor mill must be in need of a little grease!).  After two months of unemployment, I am thrilled to have a fantastic job with an incredible agency.  If you are really behind on the news, you might not have even known that I was laid-off.  So for those that haven’t heard, here’s a quick recap:

At the end of January, there was a program-wide staff meeting for the residential treatment center I was working with.  They announced the emergency budget cuts the state of Washington was making and how this was affecting our agency.  Because children are NEVER a priority when it comes to government budgets, the Children’s Administration was one of the first departments to get funding cut.  Many other programs and departments were given warning, and told to expect cuts in the next budget.  However, the Children’s Administration was forced to make immediate cuts, which in turn affected all the various agencies and groups that serve needy children in our state.  My agency was forced to close several programs and lay-off several dozen staff.  This all happened within a week of the first announcements being made.  As a fairly new staff, I was expecting to be among those considered for lay-off, however this did not lessen the pain and heartache I felt when forced to leave in the middle of my shift without warning or explanation.   As frustrated, angry, and uncertain as I felt, I knew that I had to look forward and not dwell on the what-if’s.  With a broken heart and fragile soul—not to mention a tired mind and body from all the energy I invested in that place—I set out to find my next adventure; barely holding on to hope with the feeblest of grips.

On the afternoon when I got laid-off, while I should have been at work, I decided to start surfing the internet for any hints of job possibilities.  I scavenged every job site I knew of and even resorted to using Craigslist and Google.  Most of the jobs opportunities I found were either out of state or sounded too shady.  As much fun as it was transplanting myself from Ohio to Seattle last year, there was no way I was about to make a major move again anytime soon.  I decided I was going to focus my search on Seattle and the surrounding area, even if it meant settling for retail or food service.

I sent out what seemed like hundreds of resumes and applications, talked to dozens of H.R. reps and not-so-friendly secretaries, opened countless form letters, and completed several phone and in-person interviews.  Without going into detail about every hopeful-lead-turned-tragic-disappointment, suffice it to say it was a very difficult several months.  My past depression and identity-crisis issues that had been virtually non-existent since moving to Seattle started creeping back into my life.  I was hounded by incessant thoughts of uncertainty and doubts about my competence.  My motivation to get out of bed each day was quickly sapped and my hopes of finding a new job that I could love as passionately as my last dried as quickly as the Seattle morning mist.

After months of silence from employers (including my previous employer who promised to call me back when/if a position opened), I was happy to receive a part-time offer from a social service agency north of Seattle.  The work was providing living support and advocacy for adults with mental disabilities—a job I had little experience in and something definitely not in my long-term career goals.  But having not heard back from any other employers, and with still no answer concerning my unemployment insurance (that had been submitted weeks earlier, but was held up in processing), I decided to take the position and see just how far my psychology training would take me.  At first the job seemed like a good fit, and I felt like it might be a good experience to add to my resume.  However, within a few weeks it became evident to me that I couldn’t get as excited about this work as I did when working with children.  And I also began to doubt if it was an agency I saw myself working with long-term.

The same week that I realized this current part-time gig wasn’t a good fit for me I received some unexpected news that change my outlook completely.  Within a period of just two days I was contacted by two different agencies, both offering full-time positions working with youth.  In order for you to understand the full extent of my thrill, a little back story might be helpful.

Long before I was laid-off;  before moving to Seattle; before my job in Ohio; before graduation, back to when I was just a lonely, aimless psychology major trying to survive my junior year of college, I had a “chance” encounter that rocked my world.  I was walking across campus one day and happened to hear about an event being put on by the social work department (the department I should’ve been in).  They were bringing in a speaker who had been a “modern day sex slave.”  Without having any idea what this meant, I felt drawn to attend the event.  If I remember correctly, I actually had a scheduling conflict and had determined that I couldn’t go, but some fluke in my plans (which is quite common in my life) allowed for a last minute change and the opportunity to check out the event.

As could be expected from the topic, the presentation was an intense, heart-breaking story. A talented young American woman had been lured into an overseas job opportunity only to arrive to find there was no job except forced sex work.   The woman told the nauseating story of her entrapment and the repeated raping and beatings she endured at the hands of her captors.  My eyes were open to a world of darkness, exploitation, and abuse I was previously unaware even existed.  Especially not in this country, not in this decade, not to these people.

Over the course of the next few years this topic would come up again and again in my life, each time in a slightly different way and seemingly “out of the blue.”  Sometimes it would be an article I just happened to open to in a newspaper or magazine.  Other times I unexpectedly found myself watching a documentary or news report on the subject.  Further “random” instances found me sitting next to a person who was a member of an anti-trafficking activist group.  Whatever the case may be, I couldn’t escape the reminders of this everyday tragedy.  And each time my heart was pulled ever closer to those who fall prey to this deeply hidden, but shockingly prevalent “industry” (what a crass, sick word to use when referring to the violation and exploitation of precious human beings, but really there is could not be any other way to describe it.)

Fast forward to the afore mentioned job offers.  They were both from fantastic, reputable agencies.  Both positions were working with youth in positions I would heartily enjoy.  Both were located in the Seattle area.  And both were full-time with full benefits.   It really was a dilemma; I wanted to accept both positions.  But there was one distinct difference.  One difference that made it clear where I was supposed to be.  One distinction that even the most ardent skeptic would agree had an odd sense of being supernaturally planned.  One of the programs—the one I now work for—informed me that they had just received a grant to begin a specialized program to provide housing and other services to sexually exploited youth and teen prostitutes.  In other words, they were starting a program that fit the passions, skills, and goals that had been developing in my heart and mind for many years.  The culmination of a work that began with a “random” college speaker—just one of literally thousands of speakers I heard in college—was now being fulfilled in a job meant for me.

As I look back on the last few months of unemployment, my struggle to stay sane as I woke up every morning without motivation, the absolute earth-shattering sorrow I experienced in the loss of my job (a job I loved very, very much!), I can not help but be grateful for where I am today.  If I had to choose to go through it all again, I’m not sure that I would.  It was very painful.  But seeing the dark, hellish valley I traveled through, only to come out alive and well on the other side, I can’t help but smile.

I smile knowing full-well that another valley will come.  Another disappoint will undoubtedly rock my world.  And before long I will be staring hell in the face, wondering if I will survive another round.

But this round has been won; I successfully climbed out of this valley; this heartache is not immune to balm.  This victory ensures that I have hope to offer to others going through hell.  I have a story to tell.  This smile knows that evil has a weak spot.  And knowing that, this smile can face anything.

I Love Tea!

Journalism Saves Lives

Keep your coins, I want change.  Real Change.

Before you get all up in arms about me posting yet another pro-Obama post, please keep reading.  This post, for a change (ha ha!), isn’t about politics.  This isn’t about Obama.  In fact, I first learned of Real Change long before Obama ever became President.

Real Change.  Not just a catchphrase.  It’s also a newspaper.  And quite a unique one at that.  Located throughout Seattle, as well as online, are local vendors who sell the weekly paper on street corners and in front of stores.  Often times you see them sitting on overturned buckets or propping up their newspapers along the curb.  They may look disheveled or grimy, but don’t let their looks fool you.  Beneath that tight bundle of dirtied scarves and sweaters is a brilliant salesman or an ingenious marketing woman.  And behind those dark eyes is an abundant supply of human potential.  Waiting to be tapped.  Waiting to be given a chance.  Waiting to show the world what they can do.

I like to buy Real Change in print form, whenever I get a chance.  Too bad its only published weekly.  The first time I purchased the paper I was pleasantly surprised at the quality and depth of the articles.  Some pieces may seem amateurish or poorly edited, but overall it’s a high quality read.

What I love about Real Change is the prospective it brings.  I’ve not found any other print source that provides such a refreshing viewpoint.  If you pickup your local AP-infused newspaper you will likely read about business, politics, and world news from an impersonal, upper-class perspective.  Bigwig journalist and editors in steel-and-glass highrises print finely tuned pieces that reflect the opinions and viewpoints of their owner…probably some billionaire fat cat who couldn’t care less about what’s going on in any of the 24 cities where he own’s newspapers, as long as those papers are making him more money.

But Real Change is different.  It’s a local paper.  It’s not-for-profit.  And it’s writers and vendors are homeless.  It's such a beautiful example of one’s First Amendment rights being put to good use.  Through Real Change the homeless and vulnerable are given a voice.  They write about the issues that affect them.  They write about life from their perspective.  Their passions.  Their hopes.  Their ideas.

As a self-declared social activist, what better way could there be for me to stay informed on the injustices of our society?  As someone born and raised in the middle class, I can not naturally know what it’s like to be homeless or in poverty.  But these issues are important, and Real Change provides a small portal for me to see a world very foreign to my own.

That’s something your big name, AP newspaper could never do for you.  And Real Change doesn’t just provide information.  It also provides income.  For every dollar I spend to buy an issue, the vendor gets to keep 65 cents.  That’s just a few coins, but they add-up.  And those coins eventually can turn into real change.

What's the real goal?

For years the debate between pro-life and pro-choice (or is it anti-choice and anti-life?) has riled both political and religious groups and provoked both to do extreme things in defense of their positions.  People on both sides of this debate have resorted to extreme and unproductive measures, including senseless acts of violence and even murder in order to prove their points.  It is a very heated issue; one that has caused the rise and fall of both religious leaders and politicians across the U.S.  Billions of dollars and countless hours have been spent in efforts to gain ground in one direction or the other and end the debate once and for all.

For those on the political left the issues boil down to protecting the rights of women and preserving their personal freedoms; a worthy endeavor.  For those on the political right the chief concern is that of protecting the life of the unborn child and demanding legal protections for the same; an equally valid pursuit.  What I find most ironic in this fight is that each position is ideologically opposite of the positions most often held by each side.  Let me explain…

Those on the political right, who call themselves “pro-life,” defend the position they believe is most conducive to protecting the “sacredness of life.”  However, on many other political issues this same group of people is often associated with the side defending choice and freedom, not life.  Likewise, those on the political left on this issue, a.k.a. “pro-choice,” are commonly placed on the “life-defending side” of other issues.

For example, those who call themselves “pro-life” quite often support very anti-life proposals such as war, fewer social programs, capital punishment, and economics before environment; all in an effort to expand personal freedoms.  On the converse, those who claim to be “pro-choice” often sacrifice personal freedoms such as higher taxes and broader government in order to defend all sorts of life-giving programs such as universal healthcare, gay marriage, environmental defense, and peace.

There are, of course, some exceptions to this line of thinking; for example euthanasia and the Patriot Act.  However, by-and-large, when it comes to the issue of abortion each side seems to stand against their normally upheld values.

At this point you’re probably saying, “OK, Bryce, what’s the point?”   In response I think you need to first look here, then here.

My point, rather my question is this:  What’s the goal of all your debating, defending, and violence?

For those on the political right, is the goal to make abortion illegal or to reduce the number of abortions?  We know from experience that making something illegal doesn’t eliminate its occurrence.  Marijuana, prohibition, and music piracy come to mind.  Looking specifically at prohibition—which was intended to reduce drunkenness and immorality by making alcohol illegal--instead drove the alcohol producers and consumers underground where they flourished and led to only greater problems.  What if the money spent on fighting the pro-choicers was spent on preventing unwanted pregnancies and providing resources for unsupported or poor mothers (research shows a leading cause of abortion is a lack of financial and social resources to support the mother and child)?

For those on the political left, is the goal to defend a women’s right to end her pregnancy or to protect personal freedoms for everyone?  In supporting a women’s right to choose, why not consider the fetuses right to choose?  What if, just for a short time, you considered the possibility that this fetus is actually a human being and should be protected as such?  Could the money spent on fighting against pro-lifers be spent on supporting pregnant mothers and unwanted children?

In short, Sebelius is a pro-choice Christian who has reduced the number of abortions in her state by 10% without making abortions illegal while at the same time she has supported life by providing support for prenatal care, adoptions, and healthcare for families.  Sebelius has found the best of both worlds and in her genius as found common ground amongst two very antithetical groups of people.

This is not really an endorsement of Sebelius…I know very little about her.  Rather this is a challenge to those who are so stuck in their ideological ways (most of us) that they ignore the many possible solutions to a given problem.  Additionally this is a challenge to those who are so entrenched in their hatred toward those they oppose that they often forget the very values and beliefs that led them into battle in the first place.