- Posts: 1
- Joined: Dec 07, 2016
- Wed Dec 07, 2016 10:38 pm
#31320
Please see below and feel free to criticize (please do). Still a work in progress but I feel stuck, thanks!
Imagine yourself having a bad day. Nothing spectacularly awful, but things are not going your way at work or school and you are feeling stressed out, frustrated, and just physically exhausted. What common thought enters your mind as you experience this type of scenario? If you’re anything like me, you will probably eventually think to yourself some variation of “I can wait to go home.” Now picture this same situation, but home is not an option; instead you will be returning to an overcrowded motel room or a shelter. Suddenly this comforting anticipation of home is replaced with a dreadful feeling of instability. No longer do you have that place to relax, reset, and recharge for the next day.
This is the image I try to paint when I explain to someone the feeling of homelessness. It is understandably difficult to show a loved one, who has always been fortunate enough to count on the comforts of a home, how deeply demoralizing it can feel to not have the basic staple of a sanctuary to fall back on after a long day. I am able to explain this mindset to others because by age 14 I, along with my family, had experienced homelessness through three separate occasions. Each of these instances are a culmination of a unique set of circumstances leading my family to be left without a home: evictions due to an inability to pay rent, our home being condemned due to a septic tank neglected by the landlord, and a homeowner selling a home in which we were living. But no matter what the cause, each situation lead to what became a familiar feeling, the uncertainty of not knowing where we would go next.
I could continue writing here about how awful it was to grow up without a stable housing situation. It should go without saying that I hated the time I spent living in shelters and motels; I learned far too young that the world is not always a forgiving place and sometimes things do not automatically end up “okay.” But despite all of this, looking back, I would not change any of these experiences. As far back as I can remember, I had to learn to draw strength from powerless situations. That wasn’t as hard as it might sound, as I have been fortunate enough to have a father who, despite his faults, has always been such a good example of persistence that it was nearly impossible to not follow his lead. But despite my dad’s best influence, it was still easy at the hardest moments to feel helpless. I was a child; I could not work to earn money, so at times all I could do was watch as things fell apart. To counteract this feeling, I learned to look for the aspects of life I could control, such as my grades, time with friends, and the mindset I took heading into each day. Everyone uses different coping mechanisms when dealing with adverse situations: I learned to focus on the “bigger picture.” On the worst nights, when my positive front would begin to crack, I would tell myself that these struggles are only temporary. I defaulted to the idea of the American Dream to keep me motivated; my dream was to work hard, graduate from college, and live a comfortable and stable life.
Years later and I can say I have come a long way towards accomplishing those goals. I am incredibly proud of things other people may find simple: my Bachelors degree, my small Boston apartment, and my income that allows me to save a little more each month. I can safely say that if I had the ability to reach out to myself 10 years back, to that young girl battling homelessness with her family, I know I would be satisfied to learn of what my life would look like at 24 years old. I could very well continue this path and achieve this comfortable and stable life I alluded to as my “American Dream.” However, I have quickly learned that the struggles of my childhood are not driving me towards the pursuit of money and stability, but instead to a desire to reach back and impact those who may not have been as lucky as I have so far. The “big picture” mentality I developed as a coping mechanism in my youth is now serving a new purpose, as motivation for larger pursuits.
It would be next to impossible for me to point to one anecdote that summarizes how my childhood shaped my point of view and led me to pursue law school today. I can’t recall a moment where I had an epiphany with aspirations to pursue law suddenly falling into place. Instead this pursuit feels like a natural response to the experiences I have had thus far. At what feels like every turn in life I have encountered moments where a law degree would have been beneficial to me and my loved ones. Whether it was through watching my parents face eviction, hearing my dad face a customer who had breached their contract, or doing my own research to better understand how legislation might affect my livelihood, I learned through firsthand how devastating it can be to lack an understanding of the law. I have seen personally how especially devastating it can be for low income individuals, a population who is typically more vulnerable to many of the negative ramifications of society’s laws. Despite all of this, I always found comfort in knowing there is a system of laws to provide remedies and ensure stability. If ignorance to the law can prove to be a disadvantage, then knowledge of that system can prove to be a source of empowerment. I want to be able to harness that power so that so that perhaps one day one less child will have to worry about not having a place to call home.
Imagine yourself having a bad day. Nothing spectacularly awful, but things are not going your way at work or school and you are feeling stressed out, frustrated, and just physically exhausted. What common thought enters your mind as you experience this type of scenario? If you’re anything like me, you will probably eventually think to yourself some variation of “I can wait to go home.” Now picture this same situation, but home is not an option; instead you will be returning to an overcrowded motel room or a shelter. Suddenly this comforting anticipation of home is replaced with a dreadful feeling of instability. No longer do you have that place to relax, reset, and recharge for the next day.
This is the image I try to paint when I explain to someone the feeling of homelessness. It is understandably difficult to show a loved one, who has always been fortunate enough to count on the comforts of a home, how deeply demoralizing it can feel to not have the basic staple of a sanctuary to fall back on after a long day. I am able to explain this mindset to others because by age 14 I, along with my family, had experienced homelessness through three separate occasions. Each of these instances are a culmination of a unique set of circumstances leading my family to be left without a home: evictions due to an inability to pay rent, our home being condemned due to a septic tank neglected by the landlord, and a homeowner selling a home in which we were living. But no matter what the cause, each situation lead to what became a familiar feeling, the uncertainty of not knowing where we would go next.
I could continue writing here about how awful it was to grow up without a stable housing situation. It should go without saying that I hated the time I spent living in shelters and motels; I learned far too young that the world is not always a forgiving place and sometimes things do not automatically end up “okay.” But despite all of this, looking back, I would not change any of these experiences. As far back as I can remember, I had to learn to draw strength from powerless situations. That wasn’t as hard as it might sound, as I have been fortunate enough to have a father who, despite his faults, has always been such a good example of persistence that it was nearly impossible to not follow his lead. But despite my dad’s best influence, it was still easy at the hardest moments to feel helpless. I was a child; I could not work to earn money, so at times all I could do was watch as things fell apart. To counteract this feeling, I learned to look for the aspects of life I could control, such as my grades, time with friends, and the mindset I took heading into each day. Everyone uses different coping mechanisms when dealing with adverse situations: I learned to focus on the “bigger picture.” On the worst nights, when my positive front would begin to crack, I would tell myself that these struggles are only temporary. I defaulted to the idea of the American Dream to keep me motivated; my dream was to work hard, graduate from college, and live a comfortable and stable life.
Years later and I can say I have come a long way towards accomplishing those goals. I am incredibly proud of things other people may find simple: my Bachelors degree, my small Boston apartment, and my income that allows me to save a little more each month. I can safely say that if I had the ability to reach out to myself 10 years back, to that young girl battling homelessness with her family, I know I would be satisfied to learn of what my life would look like at 24 years old. I could very well continue this path and achieve this comfortable and stable life I alluded to as my “American Dream.” However, I have quickly learned that the struggles of my childhood are not driving me towards the pursuit of money and stability, but instead to a desire to reach back and impact those who may not have been as lucky as I have so far. The “big picture” mentality I developed as a coping mechanism in my youth is now serving a new purpose, as motivation for larger pursuits.
It would be next to impossible for me to point to one anecdote that summarizes how my childhood shaped my point of view and led me to pursue law school today. I can’t recall a moment where I had an epiphany with aspirations to pursue law suddenly falling into place. Instead this pursuit feels like a natural response to the experiences I have had thus far. At what feels like every turn in life I have encountered moments where a law degree would have been beneficial to me and my loved ones. Whether it was through watching my parents face eviction, hearing my dad face a customer who had breached their contract, or doing my own research to better understand how legislation might affect my livelihood, I learned through firsthand how devastating it can be to lack an understanding of the law. I have seen personally how especially devastating it can be for low income individuals, a population who is typically more vulnerable to many of the negative ramifications of society’s laws. Despite all of this, I always found comfort in knowing there is a system of laws to provide remedies and ensure stability. If ignorance to the law can prove to be a disadvantage, then knowledge of that system can prove to be a source of empowerment. I want to be able to harness that power so that so that perhaps one day one less child will have to worry about not having a place to call home.
