Poverty

I feel that at this point in my New York experience write about poverty to a semi-informed degree. I don't know everything, and I'm working off of a pretty financially secure foundation, but still. I live and work with people who have practically nothing. My conclusion is pretty bleak. First of all, I am sort of surprised that I've made it this far without having a complete breakdown, especially considering that I am a pretty sensitive person, particularly to others' pain. I cry when other people are upset. So maybe it's good for me to be exposed to so much poverty that I simply shut down emotionally in terms of what kind of response I have. Although I haven't really done that either. I feel unchanged in any sort of real, fundamental way. If anything, I think over the past year and a half, I've become more myself--more sure of myself, less shaken for less time, than ever before in my life. I do hope this sticks. But I do feel the power of this environment to drain you, make you feel powerless (this is by far the biggest one) and alone. Now, certainly some of these feelings are very much mine, and I'd probably have regardless. But I do think the powerlessness is more intense than I'd imagined. It's exacerbate by living in NYC and using public transit, especially since the city had to cut service. I don't really think you can overestimate the loss of power one feels being smashed into a subway car for 40 minutes a day like a sardine. It makes you truly aware of your animal nature. So that's one thing. Then there's the financial inflexibility. This is essentially feeling trapped in a situation. For example, a job. This is how I feel, and I cannot even imagine how much this feeling is heightened by having small people depending upon you for food. It makes me freaked out to have kids. And also wonder why the HELL anyone who isn't financially stable has children. Alas, I am from a culture where being financially stable was a possibility and an attainable value.

I am surrounded by poverty. The neighborhood I live in is full of undocumented residents who do not speak English. The assumption in my neighborhood is that you speak Spanish, and many stores don't even bother to hire workers who are bilingual, because everyone speaks Spanish. It's convinient that I do, but even I have had some difficulties.

I can't tell if some of my feeling isolated from coworkers and patients is my age--I'm definitely younger than many of them, but even those my age don't get technology the way I do--a supervisor made a comment about how "this genration" just grew up with technology and therefore understands it, but I really don't think it's quite that simple. There are folks who are older than I am who truly "get" technology, and kids my age (young "adults") who do NOT understand it. I think it has more to do with how your brain works and your socioeconomic class. But that's just me. Maybe. But the isolation part is getting a little better. Bit by bit.