as i drove away from the city this morning, i wondered....will i ever feel the way about another place and another people, the way i did about charlotte?
of course i will. because i've lived several places in my life, and each city holds a special place in my heart.
my love for coshocton seems to grow, more and more, as the years go by. i may have dogged the place as a teenager, but it's home. the people are constant and the welcome is eternal.
buckhannon was the first place i ever felt free. i made a lot of stupid decisions, but i lived with abandon.
lewisburg was my training ground. could i be an adult? could i live on my own? could i make it in the professional world? was ministry really for me? lewisburg taught me how not to lose myself in adulthood.
charlotte was like college, round two. i made a lot of stupid decisions, and i loved with abandon.
and then there was misenheimer. it's hard to separate the village from the college. similarly, it's hard to separate my personal life from my professional life. this is where the lines began to blur and my role as a workaholic was birthed.
now, indianapolis. the cross roads of america. where i feel like i am at a cross road in my life. i'm not sure exactly where i'm headed, but i feel like my next few years in indianapolis are going to be important ones. something big is on the horizon - i can feel it. can you?
loading the dishwasher. that's when it happened. again. (the third time in the past week.)
i reached down and pulled a small shard of glass out of my foot. this one was really in there. it stung as i pulled it out and immediately began bleeding. i hobbled over to the bathroom to get a bandaid and now i can barely tell that anything happened at all.
a little over a week ago, i left a glass of water on the kitchen counter. big mistake. as can be expected, mr. darcy kicked it off of the counter and it shattered on the floor.
i don't think that i saw it for two days. i was so busy, that i simply didn't notice. luckily, when i finally did walk into the kitchen i was wearing sneakers. i heard the glass crunch beneath my foot and i froze, looked down and started cleaning up the mess.
it was easy to pick up the large chunks with my fingers. it's the tiny pieces that cause trouble. no matter how many times i swept the floor, there always seemed to be more. until finally there wasn't, and i thought the floor was clear.
and yet, i keep finding tiny shards of glass in my feet. it doesn't happen every day. and it won't happen forever. but it hurts when it does...
this is what happens when things shatter. the broken pieces seem to surprise by tearing into you time and time again, until you've found every single one and cleared them away.
"i just don't feel like i have the right to be sad about this," a friend said to me today. the very moment the words escaped her lips, my heart sank.
how often do we limit ourselves like this? we don't allow ourselves to feel certain emotions because we think that it wouldn't be allowed or that we couldn't handle it. we don't allow ourselves fully experience the utter joy in a moment because we are waiting for the other shoe to drop. we don't allow ourselves to feel pain and loss over a death, because we weren't as close to him as others were.
we create these arbitrary rules for what is allowed and what simply is not okay.
key word = arbitrary.
here is what i wish to say to everyone out there who is struggling with their emotions right now:
you have permission to feel whatever it is that you are feeling.
you really can't control your feelings. so go ahead - be sad, be betrayed, be joyful, be confused, be conflicted, be anything that you are feeling because if you are having to tell yourself that you are not allowed to feel these things, well, you're most likely already feeling them anyway.
shortly after i adopted pete, he underwent surgery to remove a lump on his side.
well, it was a lump originally. i first noticed it within days of bringing him home. it was as small as a bug bite and the vet said not to worry about it.
but it grew. and grew. and grew. until it was as large as a silver dollar.
then pete bit it and left a crater instead of a lump. so the vet cut all around the sore and sewed him back up.
he looked pretty brutal for a while. it made me cringe, just to look at it. when i would accidentally touch the stitches my entire body shivered with disgust. sure, i was disgusted. but he was mine. and i loved him. and i would have done anything to make him feel better.
today, you would barely know that he ever had those red stitches lining up along his side. he has a long scar, but his fur covers it up. unless you really pay attention, you'd never notice that some of the dark spots don't line up just right. you'd never know that he ever had surgery. you'd never know that he was ever hurt.
this past weekend a friend of mine facilitated a workshop with some college students. the workshop is designed to make them aware of how their decisions effect those around them. during a section on hidden harm, the unthinkable happened.
some of you will know what the buzz phrase "hidden harm" means, but for those of you who do not...here we go. hidden harm is the risk of everything you don't know. in the world of student development, it refers to the unknown history of a student's life.
during this workshop, the students are given scenarios to discuss. each scenario presents a student who is asked to do something that triggers something from their past that they'd rather not remember. in the middle of this activity, while talking about activities that may cause a student who was abused as a child to relive or at least recount those painful memories, like i said - the unthinkable happened.
the students laughed.
they LAUGHED.
they laughed at child abuse.
when my friend told me about this, i couldn't decide if i wanted to cry or if i wanted to vomit.
my disappointment in these students is more tremendous then i could ever put into words.
each of us have history. bags that we carry of varying weight. some days the bags may be more than our tired arms can stand. some days the bags are so light that we forget that they're even there. but we carry them. and like pete's scar, other people can't see it. we've covered up the scars with designer clothes or sarcastic humor.
maybe we've covered it up, but like pete, if you look closely you'll see that something just doesn't line up quite right.
i kicked off my 29th year by cleaning my house, jump starting a healthier lifestyle, reading some books that have been sitting on the shelves for years and, oh yeah, getting published.
the first few weeks since my birthday have been filled with good intentions. so good, in fact, that i've been able to make some progress on my 30 before 30 list:
a. i've lost 3 pounds. (that's 1/10 of the way to my first goal.)
b. i am halfway through one of the unread books on my shelf.
d. my writing has been published in a national publication.
what you don't know, is that i have actually been published before. once. when i was in high school. a poem. it's in some book. i don't remember the name. basically, it's a book that publishes a bunch of people's work, then tries to sell you incredibly overpriced copies. and you buy it, because you're 14 and your words on printed on the pages inside. then you never look at it and 15 years go by and you find yourself forgetting that you were ever a writer before now.
ah, life.
so, a while back i wrote about my hazing experiences. and that went a bit viral, i suppose. people i didn't know were writing me because they connected with my story. eventually word spread to the folks at hazingprevention.org and they asked if i would rewrite the blogs as an article to be included in the 2012 national hazing prevention week resource guide, which colleges and universities reference when planning nhpw events. of course, i said that i would. and i did.
they changed the title, though. i wonder if that's because "i am a product of hazing" sounded like i was proud of it or something. i'm not sure. anyway, you can check it out on their website. (it's toward the bottom. you have to register, but it's free)
at 26, the list was best memories.
at 27, favorite gifts.
at 28, my most influential mentors.
at 29, i'm doing things a little bit differently. this year, i've made a list of the 30 things i'd like to accomplish before my 30th birthday.
the list may not be what you might have expected from me. you're used to seeing a list of items, explained at great length. this year, you'll see a simple list with no further detail. the explanations will come throughout the year.
some of the items may seem trivial to you, but please be patient with me. each item on this list has significance, although you may not see it at face value. as i journal my attempts at completing this list throughout the year, i hope you will see that even the smallest of tasks can be a huge achievement.
the biggest thing i may need to remind myself of, though, is that it's not failure if i tried. there are some things on this list that despite my strongest efforts, i may never accomplish. i mean, heck, i've tried learning how to play the guitar too many times to count. the bottom line is trying. really trying. and i have to be able to forgive myself if i don't succeed. the list is a guide. it is a reminder that every year is a chance to start over. that every year is an opportunity to be the person i've always wanted to be. but i don't have to be a slave to the list. i must give myself some grace when things don't go as i had hoped or expected. who knows, maybe some of the easiest things on the list will become the most difficult to accomplish. there will be a lesson in everything. even in (maybe especially in) not being able to cross something off..
without further ado, and in no particular order, here is my list of 30 things to do before i'm 30:
1) learn to play the guitar (or at least give it a good honest try, for the fifth time)
2) visit friends scattered along the pacific
3) paint something and hang it in my home
4) read an auto/biography
5) share a first kiss with someone actually worth a second and third
6) purchase a tv
7) learn to make sushi
8) read the 4th book in the maze runner series (don't judge me)
9) find pete an indy puppy playmate
10) lose 30 pounds
11) take a real vacation (not visit friends or family)
12) go to an over the rhine concert
13) serve my community through a fundraiser or project
14) finish the afghan i began knitting in 2005
15) learn how to clip pete's nails
16) see the west coast
17) find curtains for my living room
18) buy pencils and crack open my old sketch book
19) complete my map art project
20) see sydney play volleyball
21) read lauren winner's "still: notes on a mid-faith crisis"
22) spend time with the entire havelka family together
23) redecorate my bedroom
24) join something - a gym, a class, a small group - anything.
25) make sure the people i love know it
26) get published
27) pick a recipe book and try all of the recipes
28) read all of the unread books on my shelves
29) allow space for the unexpected
30) journal about these 30 things and my attempts to succeed
the song has been on repeat for days. i haven't listened to the record in over a year, but this week it has been running through my head like a prayer.
"when you're lost then you're found, then you're found then you're lost...just remember, you're coming home to Me."
i've been in my head a lot lately. analyzing everything. questioning it all. wondering who the heck i am anymore and where i might be headed.
i feel like my life has been so stagnant for so long. but, didn't i move to a new city in the past year? didn't i start a new job? didn't i join a new church? haven't i made new friends? haven't i traveled to cities i'd never seen before?
a lot has happened this year, and yet i'm approaching a birthday feeling like i'm the same person i was a year ago. that i haven't grown. that, sadly, i may have even regressed.
i've learned a lot through my new job, but i don't know that i've learned anything new about myself in the past year. it's time to learn who i am and what exactly i'm capable of.
"when you get there you'll see you were already free."
pete's chest is a dark blood red and his armpits are raw.
(for those of you new to this blog, pete is my dog. he's an adorable 65 pound american bulldog, boxer, pitbull mix.)
it was an intentional decision, when i adopted pete a couple of years ago. he was clearly a dog's dog. he was playful and strong and sweet and brave. he was my kind of dog.
he wasn't one of those frilly little things that people carry in purses and he certainly wasn't high maintenance.
...or so i thought.
he's allergic to grass, highly sensitive to the heat, and for added measure, he's a mama's boy.
yup, that's my dog.
tonight, he is showing the signs of his suffering in the heat these past few days have given us.
he's in pain and nothing i am doing for him seems to help. i delayed his run until the evening when the late night breeze set sail and the sun wasn't blazing hot. i gave him ice cubes to eat and held my cold, wet, post-ice-holding hands to his chest and under his arms, knowing that those are the places that are most affected.
and yet, his skin is revolting.
i give him claritin daily, but tonight it seems that we are headed into our yearly round of a steroids and antibiotics. i even have hot spot spray with hydrocortisone and benedryl cream to rub on the wounds. ...if only he'd stay still long enough for the medicine to help.
a few weeks ago i was having a conversation with my friend brad, when i broke my guy's girl persona and shared something really personal. i imagine it was like looking at pete's raw skin tonight.
i pride myself in being a low-maintenance type of girl. i don't ask a lot. i'm not frilly or jealous or demanding or materialistic. i'm playful and strong and sweet and brave.
but underneath, you'll find that i'm just like anyone else. that i want to be accepted. that i want to be loved.
and sometimes, sometimes when i'm forgotten or rejected or hurt by the ones i love i am left blood red and raw, burning from the inside out.
but seasons change and wounds heal. and thankfully the blazing sun doesn't burn like this all year long. perhaps pete and i can heal together.
i saw the grass on both sides of the fence, and neither side was green. clearly the hazed are victims of hazing culture, but sometimes so are the hazers.
in part one i shared about my experiences as a rookie, a newbie, a pledge and the insecurities i faced around proving myself and the pressure of building a community around me. those same insecurities led both to my being hazed and to my becoming a hazer.
when i was given the opportunity to welcome a
little sister to the sorority, i made no connection between my own fear
of exclusion and her participation in the very same hazing activities. i was so focused on myself and my own fear of exclusion that i simply didn't have the capacity to worry about her fears too.
i didn't protect her like i should have. like someone should have protected me.
it's
taken me some time to process everything intellectually digested
earlier this month at the novak institute for hazing prevention. mostly,
it made me want to tell my story...
we often talk about those hazed as the victims of hazing, but they aren't the only victims. sure, there are some sociopaths out there who truly enjoy being the hazers. but i would argue (even though i have no data to back up my claims) that the majority of hazers would quit if someone would simply stand up to say "enough is enough".
i imagine that most hazers are like i was - simply doing what everyone else was doing. if my friends were hazing their little sisters, then i should be too - right? if my friends were laughing at the pranks, then i should be too - right? wrong. but i was too weak to stand up to it.
heck, i was so self-absorbed that i don't know that i ever knew what we were doing was wrong. remember - it was all done in jest and no one was holding a gun to anyone's head. certainly we weren't hazing.
but we were. i know that now. and you know what, i think on some level - conscious or not - i knew it then too. because i kept it a secret. and you don't keep secret anything that is good and pure.
here's where i start to answer some of the questions i'm sure you're asking yourselves:
1. where were the adults? where were the people who were mature enough to know that what we were doing was wrong and help us change our ways?
our advisors were
very much in the dark, or so i have to assume. they are all such
incredible women who truly embody the values of the organization. they are bright, loving, intelligent, caring, simply incredible women who have the best intentions for our chapter and the organization as a whole. i believe that if they knew what was going on then they would have
brought an end to it immediately. (unlike the 25% of students who report coaches/advisors being present for hazing activities and 25% who report alumni being present.)
as for the faculty and staff. well, when you want to keep something a secret you can do a pretty good
job of it. and we knew how to keep secrets. that's what fraternities and sororities are
supposed to do, right? we keep secrets. (although according to a national study, 25% of hazing activities occur in public spaces right on campus.) clearly my view of fraternity/sorority was warped if i thought that keeping secrets was one of the main characteristics of the organization.
if you would have asked staff or faculty about my chapter, i'm sure they would have shared that we were leaders on campus, top in grades, involved in a variety of campus activities and other organizations. they would have told you that we embodied the values of our fraternity. because in so much that we did, we really did represent what fraternity is supposed to be about.
besides, although
west virginia's anti-hazing law went into effect in 1995, hazing wasn't
as much of a hot topic as it is today. it was still very much accepted
as a common practice for welcoming new members to any organization
(fraternal or other). in my unscientific opinion, if you look at the
history of large hazing cases, 2004 is when they really start rolling in and when the public starts to really pay attention.
2. weren't you a christian education major in college?
ironically, yes, i was majoring in christian ed throughout this
entire time. during the day i studied religious texts and crafted
delicate prayers. then in the evenings i participated in hazing activities.
i will never forget my senior year, when i was chosen to perform a highly revered act of scaring the new members just before initiation. in years past, (like my pledge semester) seniors would come back to the room where new members waited to be initiated to yell and scream at them with fierce rage. i chose another approach. i somberly expressed my outright disappointment in them as a pledge class and that we weren't quite sure that they were ready to be initiated. (although we didn't have a name for it, i've heard other organizations call this the "fake out".) basically the point was to make the new members think that they had done something so wrong that they would no longer be initiated (my pledge class had a motto: "it's all fun and games until someone doesn't get initiated.") then surprise them with going through with initiation and showing them that it was all just a silly joke.
fast forward a few years and you will find me as a university student development professional in my office with a student who is beside himself because i told him that i was disappointed by his actions. you know where my mind took me in that moment? to that pre-initiation conversation my senior year of college. i was right - quietly expressing disappointment is more effective than outright rage any day. i was right, but i wasn't proud of it.
just like i'm not proud of the fact that i could so easily compartmentalize my life in college. it's not that i was ever faking who i was, i simply viewed each part of my life completely independently. i never saw the correlation between the ideals of my faith and the values of my fraternity. or at least, i never saw them in the same way when it came to how i treated new members. i would have screamed blasphemy if someone were to ruin the sanctity of worship the way i ruined the sanctity of that initiation ceremony so many years ago.
all of this to say - i have no excuse for the dichotomy between my academic studies and those particular fraternity activities. i can offer nothing but a sincere apology. because i am truly sorry.
3. which is worse: being hazed or becoming the hazer?
i wouldn't dare answer this question for anyone other than myself, but for me becoming the hazer has had more persistent effects than being hazed.
i shared some of the ways that being hazed continues to affect me in part one. more than my insecurities around new situations or missing out, though, is the guilt and the shame of having hazed others. it isn't who i am. it isn't what i believe in. it isn't who i believe my fraternity to be.
because she deserves better.
those new members deserved better.
lastly, i deserved better.
the values of my fraternity center around sisterhood, scholarship and service. we are there for one another. we value well-rounded womanhood. we are values driven. we inspire the woman. we are impacting the world. what did any of those hazing activities have to do with the values of the organization? they didn't. i believe in those values of my fraternity. i only wish my actions proved that.
in my work with college students over the years, i once talked with a woman who explained the following new member activity to me: she described an evening where new members knelt in a line, blindfolded, as seniors and alumni yelled and screamed at them and other members stomped on the floor and beat the walls for added effect. all of this build up was for a special surprise. once the yelling was over, she felt fabric covering her head and she pictured what she had heard in the news and seen in movies where bags are placed over new members' faces and they are beaten. luckily, about ten seconds later she and her friends were allowed to take off their blindfolds only to realize that the fabric being placed over their faces were their first official t-shirts for the organization. as the members in the room clapped and cheered, she couldn't help but feel relief and laugh at herself for being so scared.
my response: "but those ten seconds matter."
i think about the hazing i endured and the hazing i dealt out. i never thought about those ten seconds. did anyone think about how the women felt when we stuck them in the trunks of cars or the emotional damage it would do to someone with claustrophobia? did anyone think about how the women felt when we took them to fraternity houses to be mocked by men twice their size or how it might injure someone who has experienced abuse either first hand or in watching their parents? did anyone think about how the women felt when we encouraged them to steal items from pledge brothers and fraternity houses or how it might feed the addiction of a kleptomaniac? we didn't. or if we did, we didn't say anything. and if we said anything, we didn't say it loud enough.
those ten seconds matter.
today, i pray for the women i hazed to forgive me. today, i seek forgiveness of myself. today, i work to ensure that
no student ever has to experience the lifelong repercussions of being
the hazed or the hazer.
because i believe in the power of fraternity to change lives. i believe that fraternity can be the perfect catalyst for incredible creativity, powerful thinking and transformational leadership. i believe in the fraternal movement and hazing has no place in the movement i stand for.
i am a product of hazing.
and i aim to help put an end to it.
i am a product of many other things too, but part of what has shaped the woman i continue to become was an experience of complete immersion into a hazing culture during my collegiate years.
one of my good friends and i were talking about it the other day. as i shared my story, she became physically agitated at the thought of members of her (our) sorority treating new members with such disrespect. she couldn't understand how i, an educated and logical woman, could have accepted that behavior and endured such new member activities.
i recount memories of women bound and locked in car trunks for hours, delivering breakfast in bed to sisters all across campus at 6am, dog cages and leashes, stupid plastic spider rings, blindfolded trust walks on river docks, ice cream sundaes built on the heads of sorority women on their knees and rotten food fights with fraternity men. some of those memories are of my new member period and some are what i allowed to happen to others during theirs.
for many years, i never thought of my experience as hazing. i only thought about the close friendships that were created around that time and the funny inside jokes my sisters and i still share when we gather together.
it wasn't that bad anyway, right? my experience was nothing like what you see in the movies. it was all in jest. i was never forced to do anything i didn't want to do. even my pledgemaster was a softy! so soft, in fact, that i heard once
that she was almost not elected to the position because sisters
worried that she would be too nice.. besides, i had a great big sister who always gave me the permission to skip out on events i didn't want to do.
i did that once. i skipped a pledge activity.
my big sis warned me that we would be "playing" a fraternity that night. playing meant that the men had somehow stolen something from us and we had to "play" to get it back. i can't remember what it was that night, but the usual scenario was that a pledge brother had stolen a lettered t-shirt from one of my pledge sisters. in order to earn the return of our property, we had to play. knowing that i wasn't exactly thrilled about playing, my big wanted to give me the heads up so i wouldn't be surprised. we would be playing a fraternity who was known for making pledge sisters sit in a circle while the pledge brothers built ice cream sundaes on their heads. this wasn't too appealing to me, so my big made an excuse for me missing.
you know what happened?
i felt guilty.
initiated sisters didn't care. my pledge sisters barely noticed.
but i felt guilty.
the pressure to feel included with my pledge class was too high. they came back that night with new inside stories that i couldn't share in. i had missed out...
i made sure never to miss another event. the idea that i wouldn't have equal opportunity to meet the other women and build those bonds was too devastating. the idea that i might miss out on an opportunity to show my sisters and the fraternity brothers we "played" with that i could roll with the punches and laugh it off, that i could somehow prove myself...well, my pride and my need for acceptance was too great.
so i went. again and again. i continually made the choice to participate. i played every time. i went to every party. i drank every drink that was handed to me. i walked that signature book to every initiated sister. i did everything the sisters asked of me and more.
as i said earlier, if you would have asked me if i was being hazed at the time, well, i would have said no. (then again, 90% of students reporting having experienced hazing behavior do not classify it as such.)
because i made the choice. every time. i chose to participate. no one physically forced me. no one was holding a gun to my head. no one threatened me with a consequence if i didn't participate.
it was always my choice.
or was it?
as an adult, i now recognize that my choice wasn't really a choice at all. it isn't free will if there are consequences, whether perceived or real. although my pledgemaster never threatened me with repercussions for not participating, past experience told me that if i said no, if i was absent, if i walked away that i would be left with no one. the fraternity men would make fun of me and the sisters would whisper behind my back. i'd seen it before. i wouldn't let it happen to me.
unfortunately, college wasn't my first time experiencing hazing. (in fact, 47% of students experience hazing before college.) first were the line ups during my first marching band camp in middle school and watching a friend get pulled backwards up a hill by a lanyard around his neck. second, the new "friends" who put shaving cream in my hair while i slept at a birthday slumber party. i knew and they knew that it wasn't a simple joke. i was the outsider. i was the one they had invited just to humiliate. even though i endured their tricks all night, though, i was never invited over again.
i watched what happened to the girl at band camp who told her parents about what had been done to her. (which is brave, unlike 95% of students who identify hazing behavior never report it.) heck, for fear of looking like a loser, i even joined in when people made fun of her behind her back. i agreed when people said that she was overreacting to a simple joke.
but simple jokes aren't just simple jokes sometimes. sometimes they spark memories of a past experience we'd rather forget. sometimes they trigger an unconscious mental or physical reaction that strikes us with a fear so deep it's hard to describe. sometimes they tap into the insecurities we hide in the very core of our beings.
today, i can track some of my irrational fears back to those hazing incidents.
like my fear of the unknown. i'm not talking about an unknown future career or family. i'm talking about this irrational insecurity i have about meeting new friends for lunch or attending conferences i've never attended before. am i wearing something appropriate? what if i look out of place? will i say the right things? why haven't they sent me a detailed agenda? it's not that i have a fear that i will be hazed at the conference. i'm not afraid of hazing anymore. i'm simply afraid of not being completely prepared for whatever i'm walking into.
or like my fear of missing out, or fomo as a co-worker taught me recently. i will over-schedule my life, traveling all over the country for events with friends as often as i can because i am so afraid that i'll miss out on some incredible experience with them and that they will move on without me. it's hard for me to talk with friends from charlotte or to visit columbus and find that everyone has inside jokes and shared experiences that i've missed out on.
now, these may seem trivial to you and they certainly aren't so prevalent in my life that i'm paralyzed with fear. but they are rooted in deeply-seeded personal insecurities that were, if not birthed out of, surely cultivated through the hazing activities i was involved in throughout my life.
stay tuned for part two, including answers to what i am sure you would ask, if i went to the floor for questions:
- where were your advisors/staff/professors/campus administrators while this was happening?
- weren't you a christian education major, of all things, during this time?
- which is worse: being hazed or becoming the hazer?
