After a series such as I've just finished writing, it is always difficult for me to switch gears and start over. Either with another series or with individual posts on various relevant topics related to either workplace abuse, it's aftermath or recovery.
There are so many different facets. Partially because each situation is distinctly unique in its own way and because each individual has a different background, personality, etc. and, therefore, handles things differently.
Yet, there are also commonalities among us such as the chronic which slips in unannounced and largely at that time unnoticed after weeks or months.
*****
My last post left off after we returned home after a two week camping trip in what is called the "near North" of Ontario which is where I became aware of symptoms and their coming impact on my life.
I don't think I realized at that time just how far reaching and long lasting these impacts would be.
I thought that these symptoms would pass. That I would get better, feel "normal" soon. By "normal", i mean what for me was normal. Regaining my sense of self, my energy, emerging from the fog of depression.
Unfortunately, these things did not happen.
In fact, recovery more than six years later is still on ongoing process. An ongoing battle if you will. The symptoms, at least most of them, may be not as severe as there were in those bleak days post returning from that vacation, but they're still there. Still needing to be reckoned with.
I look at those months post that vacation as black.
I thought at that time that if I kept on with what was now a normal life/routine for me attending church, women's weekly Bible study at the church, etc. that I would come out of the fog of depression.
The problem is that my body was clamouring with unmet needs at that time as well.
I realized that I had to modify my behaviour/plan when I went to a weekly women's Bible study even though I really wasn't feeling up to it because I wanted to continue doing what I normally would do. My face felt flushed. I wanted to leave. I saw a friend leaving early and wished I could too.
At the end of the meeting, the leader asked for prayer requests and I asked for prayer as my husband had just been laid off suddenly from his job of 14 years. My agreement with my former employer was about to expire so while I had been worrying about how we were going to downsize from two paycheques to one; I was now faced with the fact that we would be doing from two to zero.
It that doesn't depress you, nothing will.
One lady asked me what I had done. I hesitated, unsure how to answer her question when another lady piped up and said "Not you, your husband." I started to cry.
I felt so misunderstood. So dismissed.
I left the building sobbing. I got into my car and drove around to the back of the building. I wanted so bad to die. I felt so worthless.
I called my husband who dropped everything and came to where I was. I called my adult daughter who stayed with me on the phone until my husband arrived. (Thank God for cell phones.)
I realized during the aftermath of that incident that I could no longer go on as I had been. But I was confused: when the problem is emotional the recommended path towards healing is to keep on with your regular routine whether you feel like it or not. If you eat at a certain time usually, then continue doing that. If you regularly participate in an activity, then continue on with that activity. I had done it before and it had worked to keep some sense of normalcy in my life.
But now, my body was screaming at me to lie down, to sleep, that it could not go on any longer. So what does one do when both the physical and the emotional are present at the same time?
I asked my therapist and she promptly said: "The physical always takes precedence." If you have to lie down, then lie down. If you are physically unable to do certain things, then listen to your body.
So I listened to my body which was telling me that it had absolutely no energy, that it was weak. Sometimes I would feel so weak I would shake.
At times I was unable to stay out of bed for hours. Day after day, I would be forced by my body to lie down. At times, I couldn't read or sleep. I was able to pray though and that helped.
Talking to people was exhausting to me. Sitting up was also exhausting. I could only sit for about an hour or less.
I contacted my pastor to let him know that I was not angry at anyone (in fact I had taken steps to let the woman know who had caused me to cry that I was not angry with her or anyone else), but that I would not be attending church for a while simply because I was physically unable to get up, to get dressed, and to face a lot of people. It took weeks before he responded.
I voluntarily stopped driving as my cognitive skills were so low that I felt I wasn't safe behind the wheel of a car. Hubby drove me to out of town counselling appointments. If he was unavailable, I was able to get others who were willing to drive 45 km each way so I could have my counselling appointments.
Hubby became my caregiver during those months.
Whatever needed to be done, meals, whatever, he did.
Eventually, I was able to go out again in small, carefully controlled doses. We went to church but arrived after the service had started which minimized the anxiety of noise from chatter and dealing with people. We stayed as long as I felt able to which at the beginning was I think about 15 minutes. We did things carefully and mindfully. Eventually I started going grocery shopping with hubby. I could not walk in a straight line. My balance was gone. Hubby would put a grocery cart in front of me to hang on to and it became my version of a wheeled walker.
Hubby was my protector and encourager.
Of course, there are always people who have issues with how someone is handling their problems. Some people felt that if I just got up and started doing, pushed through, I would magically get better.
Problem is, my body objected strenuously to that advice. I tried it. It hadn't worked.
Eventually, those black weeks morphed into grey. Dark grey but still lighter than black.
Recovery comes slowly. It is so slow that it cannot be measured unless one looks back over time and sees where they came from and where they are now.
So it has been with me.
*****
I will stop here for now.
Someone I met recently who is going through his own journey of recovery told me that while he likes my writing style, he has problems with my content as it triggers him. It is too close to his experience.
Yet, if you or someone you are close to has come through workplace bullying, perhaps it will help you to look at your loved one with different eyes. Eyes of compassion. Eyes of acceptance. Eyes, even, of love to encourage them and help them on their road.
No comments:
Post a Comment