The Saga Continues

And so the saga of the first breakdown continues.  

As I've decided to tell the story as a narrative, I'm breaking it down as I go along.  

Short bites for easier reading and understanding.  After all, if I wanted to write a book, I would have opened up my Word program.  But I didn't.  I opened up Blogger instead.

My purpose:  to get people to realize that adult bullying as manifested in the workplace (and other places) is real.  Bullying is not restricted to youngsters on the playground.  The playground bullies grow up.  If their bullying continues into adulthood, their methods change. They no longer attack their target with fists behind the playground dumpster.  

With female bullies, they usually move from overt to covert.  They've learned how to camouflage their actions so that their actions are not readily identifiable as bullying.  Ditto with their motives.  

Part of the problem that arises when the term "bullying" is used is that people tend to turn off.  They think the target who comes out of the closet to report the abuse is the grown up equivalent of a whiny six year old.  This is why I prefer the term workplace abuse.  Because the behaviour in and of itself is abusive whether it be with fists as on the playground or with words (gossip) and other behaviours as in the workplace.

Workplace bullying aka abuse is not about a supervisor yelling and screaming and threatening to dismiss the entire office.  It is about singling out one employee for different treatment, for isolation, for exclusion.  Whatever.  It can take many different forms, but it is always about the one, not the majority.

In this situation, I was the one.  

Unfortunately.

*****

My major problem writing this post?

How do you miss the fact that you're in the midst of a breakdown whether you call it stress or nervous?

Apparently, it's pretty easy as I missed the first signs.

Physical injuries are usually readily apparent whether it be a broken bone from a fall in the bathtub or an automobile (or other) accident.

When I broke my wrist several years ago, the pain was indescribable.  The wrist was in a "s" curve.  We immediately determined a trip to the local emergency room was in order.  X-rays confirmed that the wrist was indeed broken.  I left the emergency room that day sporting a blue cast which remained in place for six weeks.  It was obvious to all who saw me that I had broken a bone.

In the case of an automobile accident where the car skids off the road and hits an immovable object.  There is the likelihood of blood, guts, gore and assorted automobile parts scattered in its wake.  Emergency vehicles are called.  Again, it's obvious that something has happened.

However, sitting across from my supervisor that day in her office none of these objectives were visible.  I looked normal.  Hair combed, dressed appropriately.

There are no x-rays to determine emotional illness.  Nothing concrete.  Nothing objective.

Inside, though, was a totally different story.

I began to realize that something was wrong inside me.  I didn't know what exactly.  I just knew that something bad was going on internally.

I did realize that I was in no position to leave that meeting, return to my desk and work for the rest of my shift.

I verbalized to my supervisor that I was in no shape to work. That  I should be in ER not the workplace.

She ignored what I said.  Which was normal.  If a coworker said they were angry, upset or unable to continue their shift because of something I'd allegedly said or done, it was taken as fact. 

Heck! The allegations were taken as fact as we can see from this scenario.

No reprieve in the form of a shift off and a trip to the ER where there is a crisis clinic was offered.

I was forced to go into the office, the same office where I appeared to be under constant observation by multiple eyes.  Where I didn't feel safe.

Feel safe?  It was more than just feelings at that point.  I wasn't safe.  Not in the physical sense where I felt someone could or would come in and throttle me but in the emotional sense where there appeared to be no boundaries for those who "didn't like me".

Somehow I finished that shift.  I don't know how.  It was an incredibly brutally stressful shift.

If I hadn't already had the breakdown by that point, I was well on the way to one.

I knew my emotions were distorted.  I knew I was depressed.  I just thought a good rest over the weekend and I'd be fine again.

Not so.

It had been a Friday so I was off for the weekend.  I began to realize that something was radically wrong when I was supposed to go to my grandson's birthday party the next date and was reluctant to go.  I felt that nobody wanted me.

Even though my family assured me they wanted me, loved me and valued me, my mind could not believe it.

Afterwards, my husband took me to a walking trail with both enjoyed.  Mandatory camera in hand.  I took pictures.  They looked like I felt.  Bleak.  Desultory. Black and grey.  No glimmers of light anywhere to be found.

Nothing could lift my mood.

My world had turned into one colour overnight.

Battleship grey.

By the next day, I realized that going back into the workplace was not a good idea.  I was stuttering - which is not a normal behaviour for me.

I felt like a dirtbag.

I formulated a plan.  I wrote an email to the VP of HR who I had been in communication with and who had felt that he could stop the bullying with a meeting with all the employees on our floor regarding the consequences of bullying.  That had occurred the same day this co-worker had started the conversation which did not go well and then initiated the complaint.  My supervisor gave her a pass because due to her off shift, she was not included in the meeting.  Therefore, things that had been discussed in the meeting were not admissible in my defence of myself.

I described what had happened.  Describing the complaint as frivilous. I wrote that I was not safe in the workplace as long as people were able to go directly to management with frivolous complaints.  I said I was going to take a week off without pay and asked him to use that week to formulate a plan for my safety within the workplace.  I also asked him to ensure that this was communicated to my supervisor.

Apparently, he didn't read it.

I also called the co-worker who took care of office-related things as in our pay and days off and left a her a voice mail that I would not be in and to pass the message along.

I found out later that this coworker did not come into work that Monday morning.  No one accessed her voice mails.  No on knew that I was not coming in.

On the Monday, I called my doctor and arranged to see her.  I don't remember much about that appointment.  I do know that it was becoming more and more apparent that something was radically wrong inside me.

When I came home from the appointment, there was the company's number on my phone display but no message.  I also received an email replay from the VP of HR that if I didn't do everything right, I would be disciplined.

That was the last I heard from him.  There was never any follow up comunication regarding my safety in the workplace.

At some point, probably that same Monday evening, I accessed the Crisis Clinic in our local emergency room.  Hubby went with me, staying by my side the entire time.

I had suicidal ideation, was stuttering, visibly upset.  And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg as far as the visibility and manifestation of stress related breakdown symptoms.

A psychiatric nurse interviewed me.  I told her the story.  The long story. She asked questions regarding how I felt.  Was I angry?  Was I capable of following up on that anger which bordered on rage?  I thought for a few moments and answered no.  I didn't have it in me to hurt another human being.  She told me that she would be believed me and would be more worried if I did not have any anger/rage issues as that would indicate a flat spot on my emotions.  She asked about suicide and if I had a plan.  I've had a lot of problems with suicidal ideation but I was willing to do anything not to go there.  Not to get to the point where I felt suicide was the only option.

She determined that I was not a threat to myself or anyone but was indeed in need of medical services.   She outlined what was available in the community and we devised a plan and because I support from my husband and was not deemed a threat to myself or anyone else I was not hospitalized.

I was sent home to await the implementation of the plan.

The saga continues.  In real life, it continued on for the next two-three months.  In this blog, It will continue on into next week.