Like Crabs in a Barrel: A Nurse's Testimony on Overcoming Adversity

By Velma Haye DNP MA RN-BC LNHA

Have you ever felt in your gut that you were mistreated, marginalized, alone, sabotaged? Your feelings may be unveiling adversity. Adversity can be a show stopper that negatively impacts one's outlook on life and self-confidence. It is a given fact that individuals succumb to the pressures of adversity due to lack of guidance on how to positively respond mentally or spiritually. Like Crabs in a Barrel helps to expose some avenues of adversity and provides the guidance on how to handle adversities that you might meet in the workplace, community, or home so that you can overcome. Adversity takes many forms and usually rears its head when you are perceived to be progressing or having the potential to progress. Hence, the cliché that speaks to it being lonely at the top. We often perceive adversity to be bold and loud, but many kinds of adversity are covert. Many times, the ones closest to you are the leaders in this war. Th e ones that have nothing to say are saying a lot. Body language speaks loudly, and you must listen to it. God through His Words helps us to identify and respond to adversity as well as teaches us how to avoid partaking in creating adversity

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641406970

Book preview

Chapter 1

Setting the Stage to Survive

Iwatched the crabs keenly, almost to the point where I felt that I was a part of their world. Even when there were no movements, I could still hear sounds coming from the barrel, sounds similar to that of paper being softly crushed. Not a pretty sound, identifiable and annoying. The smell could be compared to the sound, not pretty. Amidst these unpleasant elements, I fixed my gaze on one crab that I named Survivor. He made numerous efforts to leave the barrel by climbing up the sides but every time he was pulled back by his fellow crabs. What I noticed was that the effort to pull Survivor down was concerted, always there was more than one crab, some much bigger than he was, but all trying to conquer, resulting in a pile-up when they all fell back in the barrel. Even at the fall, Survivor remained on top. However, that never deterred him from trying to escape. It was as if the other crabs were secretly on the lookout, watching his every move, because they knew he would be trying to escape. Why did Survivor want to leave? I asked myself. In my young eight-year-old mind, I thought Survivor was out of his mind, wanting to leave his family, his familiar environment. What was driving him? I queried. Survivor was relentless. While I watched him rest, I believed he was strategizing his next move.

I must have been standing over the barrel of crabs for more than an hour when I heard my mother call, Carmen! Carmen! It’s time for church. What are you doing, watching those smelly crabs? Go get dressed right now! You cannot be late for Sunday school, she quipped. Not given a chance to answer, I dashed inside the house into my bedroom and started to put on my sock and shoes. I had already taken my bath. My mother entered the room, and in a short while, with the hair brush and ribbon, made me feel like Cinderella when she was magically adorned by her fairy godmother. Glances between my mother and I convey thanks and approval. My dress was a beautiful pink lace and I was proud to wear it. My shoes felt somewhat uncomfortable, I guess because they were new.

Church was always interesting to me as I loved to listen to the Bible stories which I would repeat to my mother in exchange for a bigger slice of potato cake. I also took pride in being able to show that I was being attentive in church unlike my older sister. There is truth in the belief that a child’s personality follows them through adulthood. I still remain attuned to the Word.

No sooner had I gotten home from church than I changed into my play clothes, had lunch, and went back to the barrel. I wanted to see Survivor’s progress. Now my older brothers were putting the large kerosene tin on the fire to cook the crab. At certain times of the year, crab season, crab eating was the Sunday mid-afternoon delicacy. The adults were gathering in the backyard as was the custom. My mother would be busy cooking the Sunday dinner and perhaps baking a cornmeal pudding or a potato cake. The smell of dinner and the sight of the large kerosene tin had the men smiling. My Aunt Ida only wanted the claw of the crab. Why? It was easier to handle. My parents believed in giving and helping others in some way, and this was their way of showing generosity to the neighbors. Good boy, said Mr. Natty, the neighbor, as he reached for his drink of rum.

My brother Roy approached the barrel, jokingly pulled my hair, and asked, "What’s so interesting about those crabs? You have been watching them all day.’’

Roy, why didn’t you cover them? Aren’t you afraid they would get out?

No, said Roy, laughing. One thing you must learn, li’l sis, is that there is no need to cover a barrel of crabs. They will not let each other get away. Any crab that tries to get away, the others will do everything in their power to stop him.

Why? I asked.

Don’t know why, they just do.

Chapter 2

Same but Different

It was twenty-six years later that I, now an American citizen living in New York, understood what my brother told me under the hot Jamaican sun that Sunday afternoon: Don’t know why, they just do.

I had changed careers and had graduated from the prestigious New York University with a bachelor of science in nursing, my second bachelor’s degree, and later, my master of arts in nursing from the same institution. My decision to change careers came after spending nights with my son in emergency rooms, seeking treatment for a respiratory illness which affected him at the time. It was there that I decided to become a nurse, as I noticed nurses bickering at each other and displaying negative body language, I thought to myself that I could be of some help. I was so proud to become a registered nurse, exchanging my suits, high heels, and Wall Street job for scrubs and flat, white shoes. My interest in geriatrics landed me a job in a well-established geriatric facility as a staff nurse. It was there that I learned the true meaning of healthcare industry, which I defined as No one seems to care about your health in this industry. By health, I mean the emotional, physical, and mental health and in particular among nurses.

Looking back at my first day of work as a nurse, I believe that my appearance and mannerism must have been threatening, though not intentionally. I was corporate, that’s all I knew. My five nine, well-dressed frame must have exuded pure confidence, something which I later learned was not common among nurses. Nurses can be confrontational but not confident, I