Don't let the city make you hard

This is what my dear friend Joanne said to me when she helped me move to Philly. We both got a good laugh out of it. Angela the door mat? Hard? Whatev.

And yet, I realized this weekend, that it has happened. Gone is the girl who handed out free blueberry muffins to a homeless man. (Turns out, when you do that, he’ll try to steal kisses and go home with you. Then you have to call the police on him. And in the end, both you and the homeless man would have been better off without the muffin.)

This weekend, I went camping with some friends from grad school. I had invited along my good friend Katie who I know from church. At the time I hadn’t thought anything of it. I never thought that I was any different at church than I am anywhere else in life. I was wrong. Grad school Angela is a lot meaner than church Angela.

It’s not just the city that made me hard. It was the city, combined with the hell that is grad school. You get it from every side. The faculty, post-docs, and fellow grad students are all out to prove to you that you are stupid and worthless and you don’t belong there. Students respond to this in various ways. Some pretend to be too cool for everything. Some internalize it and agree with their tormentors, “Yes, I am stupid, I don’t belong here,” letting their spirits get crushed. Some drink. Heavily. Some may actually deal with it in a healthy way (though I’m not sure what that is). Me, I used to belong to the camp of, “Yes, I’m worthless” but have since gone on the offensive. At my previous job I was the sweet helpful girl, always looking to lend a hand. Now, at work, I wear the face of, “Look at me wrong and I’ll cut you.” I will tell you how you can and cannot treat me. I’m not taking crap from anyone.

I was proud of the new me. I felt I had finally developed the thicker skin my mom always spoke of when I was growing up and given to crying too easily. Grad school and Philly made me tough. Nothing could stop me now, I thought.

Today, in lab meeting, my boss referred to something I had done as ‘stupid’, the first time he ever applied that word to me. A year ago this would have crushed me, leaving me in tears. Today, in my mind, I responded, “Yeah, well, you don’t know what you are talking about.” In this instance, I think my hardness is good.

But what about when you don’t know how to turn it off? What about being stingy and harsh with your friends when you are supposed to be having a good time? What about turning the other cheek? How do you balance it? What is the saying? “Thick skin, tender heart”? How do you get there?