Workplace Abuse: The on-going journey of recovery

Several months have elapsed since my last post.

Why did I stop?

Was it intentional?

Did life's events overwhelm me?

Or was I processing life's events - trying to figure out where I was ... and ... more importantly ... where I am going from here?

I find that writing a blog while I'm on the process of recovery provides an interesting paradox.  There are times when I can either write the blog OR I can process the events, feelings, thoughts, etc. that I'm dealing with at that moment.

I can either be in the moment.

Or outside, looking in figuring things out.

I can't seem to do both.

My journey is not always a straight forward path.

There are days it resembles this frozen path along the Grand River.  Slippery.  Dangers of falling.  Slow going.  The picture is pretty with the setting sun shining on the frozen snow But the reality is not as pretty.  The reality is that it's slippery.  There's a real danger of falling.  Each foot has to be placed very carefully.  It helps to have a companion on the path to hold onto.  To help keep me from falling - again.  Putting one foot on top of the other.  Being observant.  Nay ... sometimes being hypervigilant.  Looking out constantly for danger.

Sometimes unseen danger.

There are dark places, along with places of incredible awe-inspiring beauty.

There are mountains and hills on the way alongside the valleys where incredible growth occurs.

There are the nights of tears before the morning of joy arrives.

There are days of incredible loneliness and times of bonding with family and friends who have stuck along for the journey.

My journey is never static.  Each day, sometimes each hour, is different.

Never the same.

Some good.  Some bad.  Some so so.

So I took two steps - or more - back for a time.  To process.  To think.  To work through the events, the thoughts, the victories ... and yes, the failures as well.

On this journey of recovery from workplace abuse, from trauma, there are no signs to warn of possible danger such as this picture taken in Scotland (above).

Nor are there signs to tell us where we are and point out points of interest.

No road maps.  No signs pointing out the direction to go.

Nothing tangible.

There is no chemo, no radiation, no medication, no medical tests to diagnose the illness, all of which make the journey more difficult - at least for me.

Support is hard to find and keep as people get frustrated especially as the acute became chronic and there was no immediate, long-term improvement.

Just a constant, on-going journey.  Long term, it's been a steadily increasing journey of recovery.  Long-term recovery.

Looking back, I can see it clearly.  So can those few who have walked it with me and didn't quit or walk away.

Moving in the present, seeing it is more difficult.

So, in the last few months, I've been doing the looking-back thing.

Being introspective.

Looking back to see where I've come from on this journey.

Looking forward to seeing where I'm going to now.

What will the road ahead bring?

What will be around the next corner?

I have no idea.

But together, we'll find out.