Last week was a surprisingly hard week - in some ways.  Good in other ways.

It was both the firsts of the firsts and the last of the firsts - if that makes any sense.

My mom, born on the 4th of july, was as independent as they come.  A virtual firecracker.  She passed away last August, six weeks after celebrating her 97th birthday.

I am Canadian by choice and marriage; American by birth and heritage.

Proudly Canadian.  Unashamedly American.  Having both holidays in the same week this year constituted a challenge.

A chance to initiate new traditions.  For both holidays.

Problem is.  I've been just touching the surface emotionally on a lot of levels since Mom died - actually even before that.

My mom's last birthday was not the happiest or healthiest (emotionally) of times for me because of some unexpected family dynamics.

Venting.  Unexpected explosions of anger (not by my mom) left me with a lot of unexpected further injury.  Injury that went deeper than what I was already healing from.  Caused more symptoms.  Symptoms which I still cope with on a daily basis - on top of everything else.

That's when the symptoms of brain damage (chaos in the brain) started.  I began to lose my ability to speak, to form words.  My speaking became very tentative.  I began to lose my ability to form thoughts in my mind.  My once superb cognitive skills went downhill.  The extreme fatigue intensified (if that's possible).  My life became a living hell - even after I extracted myself from that situation.  Even after I was back home with my support system comprised of my counsellor, my physician, my long-sufferin', ever-lovin' husband, my children and others who know me and love me anyway.

Already working through major issues post workplace abuse, I was thrust into a whole set of other issues to work on concurrently.  Issues I wasn't prepared for.

To make things worse, my doctor (with my consent) had just weaned me off an antidepressant because we had cause to believe that it was causing some of my physical and emotional symptoms.

Not a good time to incur further abuse.  Depression hung on my like a thick cloud.  Unabating.

I came home from that week with my mom thoroughly confused and depressed.  There was too much to process.  Too much I just simply could not understand.

The first verbal attack had been because I proudly wore my bright red Canada t-shirt with Canada emblazoned across my chest in big white block letters.  I was out and about (as we Canadians would say) and was not able to change.  I felt like I had committed the unpardonable sin by wearing this t-shirt on my national holiday in the good old USA.  I felt exposed.  I felt like I had the "scarlet letter" emblazoned across my chest (which in a manner of speaking, I did.)  Never mind that I had several American t-shirts to wear on my other national holiday.  Never mind that it was Canada's national holiday.  Never mind that it was my grandson's birthday.  Never mind that this is my normal July 1st attired.

That was at the very beginning of that week.  It went downhill from there.  I was accused of turning everything into something about me (which by the way isn't that abnormal - especially when you're working through all the former abuse in the workplace(s).  Healing is all about us.)  Forced into what amounted to silence for an hour because I was mandated not to use the words "I', "me" or "my" while on a shopping trip.  Try it.  It's not exactly possible.  Or pleasant.  I noticed though that the other party was not following the same rules.  Hmmmmm.  I was told:  "after all you don't have cancer."  Hmmmm.  Maybe it would be easier if I did.

By Mom's birthday in the middle of the week, I was a basket case. Crying all the time.  Desperately wanting out.  Problem was, I had no transportation, no car, limited means of communication with the outside world.  I felt trapped.

By the end of the week, I was a wreck.  My husband came and rescued me as soon as he was able to.  I remember standing in the large foyer of a restaurant on the way home bawling my eyes out, crying:  "Will I ever see my mother again?" as I felt I was not welcome to visit.  I was afraid of that one family member.  Hurting badly.  Emotionally bleeding all over the floor.

The last blog I wrote in 2012 was on Mom's birthday. After that, I was too damaged, too insecure to write anything more.

So I came to last week - the last of the firsts - with a lot of pent-up emotions.  Emotions I'd stuffed way down deep.  I was surprised at the depth of my feelings.  Animosity over this one person's bigotry.  I was surprised at how deep the hurt was even a year later.  I was surprised at the anger still residing within me waiting to get out.

Yet somehow, I made it through.  The first of July, my adopted country's national holiday, was actually easier.  My neighbours invited us over for a bonfire and fireworks.  What they never told us was that they traditionally set off the fireworks in our yard!  A great time of togetherness, hilarity and acceptance.  (Not to mention, a great private fireworks display.)

Followed by discovering that Stratford, Ontario (which is by the way on #6 on a list of the best places to visit in Ontario during the summer) which I am very familiar with as I go there every two weeks for my counselling appointments had a family-oriented celebration in the afternoon.  Followed in the evening by visiting with members of hubby's family.  Nothing terribly exciting.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Just unconditional acceptance.  What we all need.

The 4th, though, took me by surprise.  I hadn't thought to preplan anything and was blindsided by a headache that neither Advil, Alleve, naps or food would touch.  Alone as my husband was unexpectedly working a 12-hour shift.  In a country which had already had it's national holiday and celebration so the 4th, normally the highlight of my year, was just another working day to those around me.  Nothing special.  I hadn't realized just how much I would be affected by being in Canada on the 4th.  Alone with my unhappy memories of the year prior, my thoughts, and yes my grief.

What caused the damage last year?  Feelings of rejection caused by the outbursts of anger.  What helps with the healing?  Unconditional acceptance.

We who are on the journey of healing post abuse whether it's in the workplace, the family or a combination of both, need acceptance in order to heal.

We are fragile, yes.  Yet, there is a huge, unacknowledged strength within more of us.

Because we are Survivors.

We have survived the worst of what the workplace has to offer and we still get up in the morning, put on our clothes and make it through another day.

I salute us.

Workplace Abuse - Why Was I Targeted?

Much as we would like it to, real life doesn't come complete with road signs in six different languages as this sign post on the Isle of Skye in Scotland advising drivers to drive on the left.  Or even in one language.  Life, real life, doesn't work that way.  Sometimes guidance is more on the line of doing what our gut tells us to do.  Sometimes, we have to go off the road completely before guidance comes.

Am I going into too much detail?  Have I lost my mojo?  Should I just speed things up?  Or should I carry on as is?

These are the thoughts that are going through my head as I sit down once again at my computer, blank page starring at me.  Taunting me.  Daring me to write something.

Yet as I write out the narrative of the first abusive workplace situation in as factual and unemotional a manner as possible, I'm seeing things for the first time.  Combined with my journey through and post workplace abuse situation #2, I'm seeing things I never saw before - in both situations.  I'm coming to a better understanding of what I faced in both.  What the dynamics were.

I'm seeing what was at the time a very confusing situation with much clearer eyes.

Eyes which now recognize the futility of the situation I was caught in.

Eyes, filtered now by the lenses of experience, handsight and research, which bring the events into clearer focus.

How the supervisor and her manager in abusive workplace situation #1 got away with changing the evaluation form, I have no idea.

Perhaps because it was a fairly small company.  Perhaps each little division had their own autonomy.  Perhaps because my 2-UP was herself on the Executive. Also we were in the far back of the building, the Siberia of the company.  The offices were in the front, the production plant in the middle, and us, the distribution department and warehouse in the very back.  In order to go from the front to the back, one had to either exit the building and go around on the sidewalk or don protective gear, white lab coats, hair nets, goggles and safety shoes to walk through the plant where the product was being made.

There was a fair amount of real estate between the front doors and the back.  Also, quite a difference, I think in retrospect, in oversight.  My supervisor was in the cubicle next to me.  Her manager was far away in the ivory tower of the front office.

The evaluation, I thought originally, went fairly well.  The problem was, I was focussing on what my supervisor was saying.  Not on the black and white of what was on the form.  Just as in the surprise meeting in late December where I focussed on the first part, the praise part, of the sentence while she focussed on the BUT and what came after.

My supervisor tempered every section with something good.  Problem was, the positive was not in black and white on the form.  Only the negative.  For example, she had been focussing on cross-training - of which I did have some which had added value to the office as a whole.  However, she discounted what I did have and focussed on what I did not have. She prefixed her remarks by saying "this is my fault because I haven't trained you on these things" and then went on to mark me negatively.  I heard the "this is my fault" without realizing that what was written on the form was the significant part.  In hindsight, years later, I wonder why I was even being evaluated on something that was not part of my job, nor part of my training.

I wonder why I was being evaluated on the same basis of my colleagues who were permanent employees.

I also wonder why I was even being evaluated when my contract was up in approximately four weeks.   I believe now - and faintly discerned even then - that the decision not to rehire me had been set in stone back in December when the final contract was offered.  Maybe even before that, as I believe now that their game plan in December may well have been to wait until the bitter end and then walk me out.  They were thwarted in this plan by my unwitting disclosure to a major account that I was on contract and that my contract was soon to end.

I faintly discerned then and I firmly believe now, that my supervisor and her supervisor were ensuring that their plans did not fail this time.

Perhaps they went through the motions of the evaluation to throw me off-balance, to give me reason to believe once again that there was some hope in the situation.  In reality, the negativity may well have been so that they would have something concrete to back up their decision not to rehire me - just in case ....

If I had known then....

More importantly, if I had been the person then that I am now.

One of the perplexities of workplace abuse is that the person who is selected is usually not a bad worker.  Quite the opposite.  For some reason, people who are well established and recognized for their outstanding work are usually those selected for the dubious honour of being abused according to the research.

Another significant trait of the abused employee is that they are non-confrontative by nature.

Put the two together and you have an employee who is extremely good but who lacks the self-confidence to stand up for herself.

That in a nutshell was me during that time - and for quite a long time afterwards.  On the journey of recovery, I am still learning to stand up for myself.  Not only to stand up for myself but how to do it effectively and when to do so.

In effect, I allowed my supervisor to bully me, not because I am a masochist but because I didn't think I had any right to stand up to her.  I had been trained from early children to believe that I had no rights.  Concurrently, I had been trained to be a peacemaker in my family.  I avoided conflict like the plague.  I had learned to hide in my room or even inside my head in daydreams during times of family unrest.  I had learned to be a co-dependent.  I had been raised to feel that it was up to me to make things right for others.

These are the lifelong traits I carried with me into that workplace.  These are the traits which allowed the abuse to not only start but to thrive.  These are the traits, I have been working on in the process of recovery.

Not only did my supervisor devalue me on a long-term basis; I had left the door wide open by habitually devaluing myself.

A recipe for ... well ... for bullying.

So today, as we continue on this road, we have passed a significant landmark on that part of the journey.  The evaluation.  Yet the road continues up a slight incline.  What is on the other side?  Where does the road go from here?  What will the scenery be like on the other side?  Will it be more of the same?  Will it be beautiful?  Or ....

Until tomorrow.  Thank you for walking with me on this the journey of my experience with and through workplace abuse.

Real Life versus TV

Inactivity - especially forced inactivity - does not suit me.

I mean, I've always been low energy but I was always able to work and pursue my interests.

Enthusiasm for life.

Now ... it's gone.  At least for the time being.  Due to circumstances beyond my control.

During this time of debilitating circumstances and recovery, I've started following certain TV series on the net.  My favorites:  NCIS, Criminal Minds, NCIS Los Angeles and Bones.

However, I don't look at these shows as mere stories for entertainment; I look at them through the lens of recovering from abusive interpersonal relationships in a work setting.

I see the interactions, the verbal jabs and sparring, the distinctive individual personality traits and quirks that while they do cause tension are accepted - more or less - within the workplace.

Take NCIS for instance.  If this were a "normal" e.g. OK real life workplace, Gibbs, the functional mute who controls his team with mere looks, the occasional terse statement (and threat of unemployment) through the force of his dominant personality and the occasional slap upside the head would be considered abusive.

Dinozzo, our "rich" playboy of Italian origin, would be up on a daily basis for sexual harassment with his constant probing into his females counterpart's personal life.

Abby, the resident goth, is extremely intelligent and gifted in her work, also has distinctive although endearing personality traits including her atire.  Chatty. What real workplace would tolerate her dress code and quirks?  Even given her ability to do the job and do it well?  To solve the puzzles?  She would be a huge threat to those around her who were more average in their IQ and abilities.

She and McGee, the computer nerd and geek, are my two personal favorites.  Although Abby has been accepted by the crew as indispensable,  McGee still needs to earn his spot within the team's social framework. With his superior ability on all things technical aspect, McGee too is different from the others and Dinozzo loves to tease him, constantly putting him down in front of the others.  Constantly demoralizing him.  Constantly playing tricks on him.  Constantly ... well ... constantly being Dinozzo.

I could go on and on about these characters and their interactions.

But this is TV.   Real life is not like this.  A TV show has a team of writers, constantly working together on dialogue.  The dialogues are carefully scripted.  The interactions.  Everything.  Even who plays what role.  In fact, I believe that more time and care is spent on casting one character for a one-time role in an episode, than most employers put into researching those they hire for a permanent spot on their "team".

In the workplace, this kind of scripting simply does not - and cannot - exist.  We fly by the seat of our pants on a daily basis.  We interact.  We react.   Sometimes, we're even able to respond - but not always or often.

We don't put up with others' quirks.  We assume that if a person is different from us, there is something wrong with them.  Since we find them difficult to understand and work with, we want them out.

Forget tolerance.  Forget competence.  Forget everything but the heat of the moment.

In everyday life, we filter everything through the lens of our own personality, our own perceptions and assumptions about the world and our place in it.  We filter everything through our past experiences and how they have impacted us.

If we're lucky, we're also filtering things through the lens of recovery.  But so many people prefer to stay the way they are.  They don't know that there is anything better out there for them.  They're stuck - like Dinozzo in his 16 year old mentality.  They don't even know that they're stuck.  This is normal for them.  And because it's normal, they resist change any way they can.

Anyone who comes across their path who is different, emotionally healthier, etc. is perceived as a threat.

Threats you get rid of.

I wish life were more like a TV show.  With a set script.  A set destination.