Post Workplace Abuse: A sign of recovery

Parasailing with my best friend - and hubby - South Padre Island, Texas 2010

This week, so far, has been an interesting week as I've more human contact in just a few days than I normally have in weeks.

It's amazing what human contact, good human contact that is, does for the soul.  And the attitude.  How it encourages and affirms.

There's all kinds of human contact:  good, bad and indifferent.  With all sorts of shades in between.

Bad human contact is what I experienced on a continuing, long-term basis in the workplace where every word I said, every action was placed under the microscope of someone else's ideas and thoughts of what I should be and then minutely dissected - and twisted.  Not in my favour.

Indifferent human contact is when I'm out and about and I pass people on the street.  Or maybe instead of the word "indifferent", I should use the word casual.  I might smile or nod or even say "Good morning" and get a smile, nod or greeting in return.  But I'm not going to engage in a long-term relationship with these people.

And then there's what I call good human contact.  A meeting of the minds.  Two people who know a lot about the other - and choose to associate with them anyway.

And so, I've had some good human contact this week.

While talking with one person whom I've never seen before outside of the church context, I realized how far I've progressed on the road to recovery when I made one simple comment:  "I've been able to cook lately" and saw the happy expression on her face.  She was genuinely impressed and happy for me.  I saw, for the first time, what a huge accomplishment the simple act of being able to cook consistently is in my journey of recovery.

Early on in the journey, in the Fall of 2011, when the acute entered the chronic phase and the emotional entered the physical phase, all I could do was lie down.  Sometimes I couldn't even sleep.  I couldn't read.  I couldn't crochet (I hadn't learned to knit then).  I was physically unable to do any of the things which I usually enjoyed.

I was well and truly down for the count.

I had to give up so many things during that time.  I could no longer go to the women's weekly events at the church as I didn't have the energy to sit for an hour or so.  I badly stuttered.  People scared the living heck out of me.  I even had to give up driving for a time as my cognitive skills were so bad that I was an accident waiting to happen.  I decided it was easier to voluntarily give up driving than to have to tell an officer why I turned directly into the path of an oncoming vehicle.  (It's much easier to give up driving voluntarily for a time than it is to get your license back if it's been taken away.)

I tried, oh how I tried!  But it didn't work.

Finally I asked my therapist about healing as she's been through some traumatic junk herself.  I asked her what to do when there was both physical and emotional at the same time as with emotional the general train of thought is to bull through, to keep as much as possible to a regular schedule, etc.  With physical, though, the theory is just the opposite.  To rest.  To pay attention to your body.  To do what it says.  Not to push it.  If you can't adhere to what was once your regular routine, don't.  If all you can do is lie down, then lie down.

Her answer:  the physical always takes precedence over the emotional.

She encouraged me to pay attention to what my body was telling me.

To rest.

So I did.

Sometimes, recovery is so gradual that you, the person going through the journey of recovery, don't notice it.

When I was talking with this friend the other day, I realized that I've come from someone who couldn't do hardly anything to someone who is able to cook dinner more or less consistently at this time.   I've even been able to go through my recipe books and read and follow new recipes.  More than once.

It was exciting to see this accomplishment reflected in the eyes of someone else.  Someone who has been privy to part of the journey - the worst part.

Someone who knows me better than most people - and loves me anyway.

Until next time, dear friends ....

(Hmmmm, now what can I put in the crockpot today?)

Surviving Workplace Abuse: Stuck in the chronic

If I'm not mistaken, my 11 year old granddaughter took this picture a couple of weeks ago.  It shows the me people don't always see.  The me excited by my creations.  The me who is finally re-emerging after a long desert of very dry places following my latest experience with workplace abuse.

*******

Last week I wrote about an unlikely friendship, one that has developed over a period of months based on our common bond of being marginalized:  me by trauma; my friend by schizophrenia.

I've been thinking a lot about friends, friendships and how they form.

What makes them last.  What makes them fade away.

Like workplace bullying, I think that friendship is complicated.  There's no one pat answer.  No one size fits all.   Except that you meet a person and they seem to click with you from the start. Then you work on it - one conversation, one shared experience, one laugh at a time.  For a very long time.

Friendships don't just happen.  They're something you work at over a period of time.  They grow (at least the good, lasting ones do) as you grow.  They survive adversity.  They survive chronic autoimmune diseases.  They survive cancer.  They survive trauma.

In short, they survive.

As I've gone through my journey re: workplace abuse, trauma and the long road to recovery, I've noticed that the greatest disadvantage or problem I face in my journey back is the lack of understanding among "regular" people.  At first, they listen and then they shut down and start to offer advice.  They want to fix the problem.  And when it can't be fixed, they walk away.

Why?

Because they simply don't understand what it's like to have something that doesn't go away whether it be an autoimmune disease, trauma, depression ... whatever.

People are usually there - at least temporarily - for what I call the acute phase.  The critical part.  The life or death part.  But I've learned that after the acute comes the chronic.

For example, I learned a few years ago about a little girl who had been born with unexplained bone marrow failure.  At 14 months, she had a bone marrow transplant.  For months, her life hung in the balance as she had fevers, etc.  She was rushed to hospital by helicopter several times and she and her family became very well acquainted with that unit in the hospital.

Many people followed her ups and down via postings on the Caring Bridge website.  We could understand the acute, the critical phase.  But can we understand the present?  The chronic?  She is now five; alive, but not completely well.  The transplant only took partially and there are long-term implications.

I also learned earlier this year about a mother who was going shopping with her two young children when she was broad-sided at an intersection by a driver who failed to stop at a stop sign.  The youngest, ironically a girl, 14 months as well, was critically injured and sustained traumatic brain injury.  Again, myself and many people have followed this story, this time via Facebook, as it unfolds.  The child lived and is home now.  BUT ... again as with the first example, there are long-term implications.  An unending round of various therapies, blood work, eeg's,   The mother lost her job because she has to constantly work with her little girl to help her regain the functioning she lost in the accident.  Recently, she posted an explanation about why she's not working because apparently people are coming to her and giving her a hard time.  The idea being:  "your child is well now, why aren't you able to just get up and move on?"  They're confusing life-threatening with being completely well.  They're forgetting there's a middle ground.  A very long middle ground.  The chronic phase in which this little girl is relearning how to do everything including eat, make sounds and eventually form words.  All the things the accident took away from her.

For me, I've discovered through this journey that the people I bond with the most are people who have something sort of in common with me.  These are the one who have autoimmune diseases - of which there is a whole grocery list from TTP, to Adult Onset Stills, to fibromyalgia, lupus, etc. and or other "invisible" diseases such as heart disease, depression, trauma, etc.

These are the people who understand.  Intimately.  Because they're stuck in the chronic themselves.

Each one has a common thread.  We're all stuck in something we can't get out of.  For people who develop most of these diseases, it's a life time sentence.  For some, such as TTP, there is the possibility of remission but even then there are many affects such as constant migraines that continue to plague the person forever.

As I walk through the valley of trauma and work through towards recovery - whatever it may look like, I've discovered that I have the most in common and receive the most understanding from those who are going through a journey with diseases, circumstances such as those noted above.

Why?

Because they've been there, done that, and they don't like the fit of the t-shirt they're forced to wear due to their chronic disease.

In short, because most of us look like the picture of health, there is no way the uninformed observer can know the challenges we face on a daily basis.  And so "they" tend to judge us ....  Just like people have been judging this mom whose child sustained traumatic brain injury in the accident.  There's no way a person looking at the picture at the start of this post can realize that I'm going through a lot of junk, have been for a very long time.

They. Just. Don't. Get. It.

They confuse the acute with the chronic.  Acute is one thing.  Chronic is another.

Acute people seem to be able to understand.  Chronic, they don't.

Until tomorrow....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: An unlikely friend

As I continue writing about what happened to me in the workplace, mixing my own experiences with research and learning more, much more, about what happened to me and coming to terms with both the experiences, the dynamics that caused them and the resulting damage, I've come under attack from various unrelated sources about being negative which has caused me to struggle.

Am I negative because I keep looking back into the past, analyzing it and realizing what happened to me so that I can (hopefully) prevent it from happening again and have a better future?

And so that I can come to terms with my past traumatic experiences, accept them for what they are - and move on in my own time and my own way?

Am I being negative because I want to get workplace bullying out of the "closet" and into the open where the victims of bullies have the freedom to say what happened to them without fear of reprisals?  And hopefully be better understood?

Am I being negative because I want to educate people about the dynamics of bullying?  How subtly it begins so that they can protect themselves in the workplace?

Am I being negative because I share freely with others what my life is like post workplace bullying?  How it has changed my life?  The after effects such as weakness, feeling shaky, breathing problems, cognitive and speech problems resulting from the trauma that scattered my brain cells similar to a real brain injury or a concussion?

Am I being negative?

Am I a negative person?

This plus the very real aftereffects of what happened to me which persist even three plus years after the fact, are things I deal with - and struggle with - on a day to day basis.

I like to think I'm not a negative person.  I like to think that bringing my experiences into the open will someday help others.

I also know the positive things that have come into my life that probably wouldn't have come into my life if all this hadn't happened.  These are harder to share though.

For example, take A - a younger woman I had originally  met in 2009 at a women's retreat we both attended.  We didn't have much in common, but we did hit it off and had fun together.

Life intervened and a few years later she was diagnosed with schizophrenia and I went through workplace abuse.

We accidentally reconnected last year in a surprising way.  We both went to a women's breakfast sponsored by her church.  Somehow, I ended up losing my chair and sat down elsewhere.  Unfortunately, that chair happened to be empty, but claimed by someone else.  Someone who came up to me, confronted me and demanded that I get up.

To others that wouldn't be such a big deal, but to me who sees things through the lens of trauma, the lens of isolation and exclusion from what happened in the workplace, it pushed my triggers.  I wanted to grab my coat and run out.  I felt soiled like I'd done something wrong.  Immediately others who were aware of my past and my issues and limitations, found a place for me - a small student's desk in the corner.

A contacted me afterwards and made sure that I knew that she was glad that I had come to the breakfast.  She says that even my presence makes her feel good.

A bit later there was another breakfast and I wasn't going to attend, but A made it clear that she wanted me to go.  She also made sure that I always had a place to sit - beside her.  Our friendship began to grow from then on.

We're an odd couple in many ways.  I'm petite, she's large.  I'm urban, she's more rural.  I'm from a high church (Anglican) background, she's from a Mennonite background.  I have a university degree, she barely has an elementary school education.  Frankly, we have nothing in common.

Except...

... Except that we're both marginalized:  she by schizophrenia and I by trauma.  Both of us struggle in ways others can't understand.  Both of us deal daily with things we'd rather not.

And for that reason, we both understand each other in ways others cannot.

Our friendship is based on mutual acceptance.  I can talk to her about things I can't talk to about with others.  I don't mind being with her on the bad days when the words don't come or they come garbled.  It doesn't bother her a bit.   She understands and allows me to be me.  I feel relaxed in her company.  I don't have to pretend to be anything other than what I am.  I don't have to pretend to be strong.  I can just be plain old, unvarnished, imperfect me.

The other day, she called and wanted a change of scenery.  She was tired of staring at her own four ways and wanted a different set of four walls to stare at.  I'd been having one of my bad periods where I hadn't been able to do much, where I felt like something heavy was on my chest and I was having trouble breathing and feeling weak but I allowed hubby to go pick her up and bring her over for a few hours.

We laughed.  We talked.  We shared experiences. We watched videos.

I felt the load lessen.  The heaviness lift.  More energy seemed to flow in.

Together we shared various gifts:  the gift of laughter, of conversation, of understanding, of valuing each other, of not judging.

At the end, we were both aware that I was in a much better space than when I'd answered the phone a few hours before.

Would A have come into my life in such a positive way if I hadn't gone through the trauma of workplace bullying and it's resultant damage?  Or would I have shunned her because of her mental illness?  I'm guess that this friendship which blesses me so much would never have happened if I had not gone through workplace bullying.

Workplace bullying has changed me.  The way I look at life.  The way I react and/or respond to things.

It has caused damage - yes.  But it has also brought me special gifts.

Like A.

Until tomorrow....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: The Place of Friends

I once bought a friend a cup with the slogan:  "Friends are the chocolate chips in the cookies of life."

Friends are the chocolate chips in the cookies of life.

*******

I've been thinking of writing a blog posting about friends for months now.  It all began when I ended up in a "friendship" which became harmful for my health.  I kept on trying though because this person was deeply wounded, just like I am.  She needed friends, just like I do.  She was hurting, just like I am.  I was hoping to have a friendship based on mutuality such as doing things together, talking, etc.  Instead our relationship became very one-sided with me giving and her taking.  She become more and more demanding of my time and what limited energy and resources I had.

While I had a fair understanding through my own journey of some of her issues and problems, she had no understanding of mine.  To her I was all "put together".  I had "everything" as in a husband and family.  I "didn't have to work" and could "enjoy my hobbies".  In short, I had things she wanted but was not achieving.  I believe she became jealous because she didn't have those things.  These were all things this hurting soul threw at me - and more.  Sometimes in a very forceful way.

Yet, nothing could have been further from the truth.

I struggle.  Sometimes daily.

My cognitive skills go up and down.  And when they go down ... they go way DOWN.

Many days I cope by staying inside my safe house especially in my safe room doing those things which stimulate peace and healing - like my right brain therapies, crocheting and knitting.  Yet, the very things I use - and need - to keep stable and heal became things she ridiculed.

The difference between us was that I had learned many coping mechanisms such as my right brain therapy of knitting and crocheting.  I had spent years building up a small, working support system.  I had spent years ... and thousands of dollars ... on therapy - and continue to do so.

In short, I had worked ... and worked hard ... to get where I am.

Yet, when I suggested any of these things, she would forcefully rebuff me.  What good would it do to get counselling?  They couldn't fix her.  They couldn't make the hurt go away, the pain.

And that's true.  There are no magic wands.  BUT ... they can guide us into ways of helping ourselves, of helping us see ourselves more clearly and find ways that will help us get out of our situations step by painful step at a time.

A huge problem with this relationship was that neither of us realized that I am still wounded.  Very wounded.  Appearances can be very deceiving.  To her, I looked strong and put together.  Yet, I still have weak spots.  I may have been strong enough to walk with this dear soul, but I was not strong enough to carry her.

Finally, I had to back out of the relationship for my own sake.  I simply wasn't strong enough.

And I'm still not.

This relationship caused me to think a lot about what friendships, healthy friendships, look like.  And how they happen.

To be honest, I don't think friendships happen by design.  At least not in  my life.

I look back to a friendship that had a huge impact on my life that started in the least likely of ways - and lasted for years.

The cat that brought N and I together

I met N when she came over to adopt my cat.  She then invited me to come over and visit her and the cat.  We clicked during that first meeting.  We were the same age.  We both liked cats.  We were both creative people.

I now realize that N needed people in her life just as I needed people in my life.  But not just any people.  She needed people in her life who would accept her and value her just as she was.  So did I.

Poor.  Needy.  On disability.  With health issues.  Yet, N lived life to the fullest within her circumstances.  She had a zest for living that I've rarely seen in other people.  Hubby called her an "odd duck" yet, to me, odd ducks are the unique ones, the uncommon ones.  When I go to the nearby river for walks, I see mallards, geese and seagulls by the dozen.  They're commonplace.  What I'm looking for are the uncommon ones.  The rare ones.  Like the odd blue heron and common merganser or even the commerant.  Like the chocolate chips in cookies, the odd ducks, the characters, the people who broke the mold when they were born, are the ones who add flavour to our lives.

N was such a person in my life.  She was a friend when I needed one.  When I came over to visit, she would make me flavoured coffee and proudly tell me she'd gotten it at the dollar shop.  She would treat me like royalty, give me the best seat in the house, and we would talk.  She would share with me her life.  She would proudly show me the treasures she'd gotten from the food bank, which apparently has more to offer than food.  We shared a bond I've rarely had with another human being in my adult life:  unconditional acceptance on both sides.

N taught me so many things about friendship which I still treasure to this day.  When I would visit, she would write me a note afterwards.  She couldn't afford much, but she would find treasures in the thrift shops where she volunteered to gift me with.

But the most important thing she taught me was how to be a friend.  When she felt the friendship was too one-sided as in she was doing all the phoning and outreach, she would gently rebuke me and say "friends don't treat friends this way".

She taught me how to be a friend probably without even realizing it.

The last time I saw her a stomach thing was going around in our area and I was on the verge of taking a trip to Myrtle Beach.  But when N asked me to come, I came.  That's what friends do.  N wasn't well.  We thought it was the stomach thing that was going around.  She asked me to take the cat to the shelter as she wasn't able to care for him.  So I did.  That's what friends do.  She told me that if she didn't get better by a certain time, she would call the ambulance to take her to the hospital as she didn't have a way to get there herself.  Maybe I should have pushed her and taken her there myself right then and there.  That's what a real friend would have done.  But I didn't.  I was caught up in my own life - and frankly she didn't ask me to.

I did, though, tell her that during that last visit how much she meant to me as a friend.  I'm glad now that I did.

I worried about her while I was gone even thinking of calling her long distance a few times.  That's what friends do.  I called repeatedly her as soon as I got back home from my trip but received no answer.  Then her phone was disconnected.

It took several weeks before I discovered that my friend had died while I was away.

I still mourn her loss.  I still miss her and I still remember her and the things she taught me.  About living life to the fullest even with disabilities.  About friendship.  About how to be a friend.  The things she taught me are still with me - and in a way, she is too in the memories.

*******

As I look at N and at others who have come into my life, I see more and more that friendships are not something one can plan.  They just sort of happen.  A person, a stranger, comes into your life - and stays.  The longer they stay, the less strange they become.

I don't now if this will become the beginning or a series or rather a theme which I will revisit from time to time.

Yet, one thing I want those people in my life who know me - and love and value me anyway - you are important to me.  I value and appreciate you.

And that's as it should be.

Until tomorrow (I hope)....

Post Workplace Abuse: Friends - The Importance of Healthy Relationships

Where are we now in our journey through surviving and recovering from workplace abuse?  I almost feel like we're back at the Head of Trails pictured here at Cypress Lake National Park, Tobermory, Ontario.  The main, most popular, trail leads to the Grotto where there are steep cliffs and good swimming.  However, there are many side trails available to walk - some longer than others, some which reconnect to the main trail and some which don't.

I've noticed that on the road to recovery, I might be following many paths all at the same time.  The main one being the on-going focus on recovery.  However, as I've mentioned before, workplace abuse and, therefore, its many affects is complicated.  It affects many areas of our lives concurrently, and I end up working on all of these areas in give or take the same time frame, although not all with the same intensity.

Currently, in my daily journey towards recovery I am actively working on debunking the lies of "perceptions and assumptions" while at the same time working on socialization i.e. relationships.

So today, we're taking a "side trip" into a path that has cropped up lately in my journey and which is causing me to do a lot of analyzing and thinking.

The path of friends and relationships.  Healthy relationships.  What do they look like?  Is everyone a candidate?

So today, we take a side trip into another part of the story.

*******

Lately my thoughts have been turning to friends. Not specific people though.  But what that kind of relationship looks like.  What it's all about.  Especially among adults.  I mean we're no longer children here.  In my 60s I'm not going to have the same kinds of relationships I had in my early childhood years.  Nor will it resemble those I had - or rather didn't have - in my adolescent or even university years.  "Mature" people need mature relationships.

In my journey through my two experiences with workplace abuse, I abruptly lost two sets of relationships which, at that time, were very important to me:  first, when my contract ended at the first bullying situation and I was escorted out the door; second,when I threw my Bible on the floor of the church library and incurred the wrath of our senior pastor.  Because of his anger, I didn't feel I could return.  In neither situation, did anyone feel that they could contact me.  So at two times when I needed relationships the most, they simply weren't there (except of course for my family - and that's a whole other side trip).

Wait a minute, you might say.  What about three sets of important relationships?  What about your most recent experience with workplace abuse? Didn't you lose contact abruptly with those people too?

The answer is yes, I did lose contact with those people in that now former workplace.  But the answer is also, no, because I held myself aloof from those people after my first workplace abuse experience ended so abruptly and badly.  I did not allow myself to get close to these people.

Why?

Because I didn't want to be hurt again.  Because I think part of me realized that these people might well be another "transient" population in my life journey.  And also, because like the situation before, this one was not permanent - at least originally.  I was on a maternity leave contract.

In the first situation, I wanted desperately a full-time, permanent position, and my employers kept holding out the proverbial carrot attached to a stick which kept being just out of my reach.  Unfortunately, hubby and I realized after the fact that the stick with the carrot had been attached to my tail so to speak, so it would always be the same elusive length head of me and it would never be possible for me to catch it.

I realized that way too late.

So, this time I went into a temporary situation with a completely different mindset.  I would do my best to keep this position operating efficiently so that this person, on her return, would have a well-running desk to return to.  I didn't allow myself to even think of this position becoming permanent UNTIL the woman whose position I was filling took on a different job within the company.  At which time, the maternity leave vacancy became null and void and I was either going to be out of a job immediately or hired to fill the vacancy.

I got the vacancy and being a permanent member of the team.

BUT, the damage, the hurt, the sense of violation from the first experience was still very raw.  Still completely unhealed.  I was walking through a desert experience.  A dry and thirsty land where there was no water, no understanding of what I'd been through and, therefore, no understanding of why I wasn't able to "let go" of the experience, why it was still with me every minute, every hour, every day of my waking life from the very first moment I opened my eyes in the morning until the last moment at night when sleep finally - with great difficulty - claimed me.

Because none of us really realized that that experience constituted workplace bullying aka workplace abuse, none of us realized the impact of trauma and PTSD.  The damage.  The injury.  Not even the therapist I was seeing at that time.  Especially not her as she became abusive.  She not only had no understanding of what PTSD was, which meant that she also had no background in trauma, she felt that even if I did have PTSD it would not change the dynamics of her therapy model.

Thus, she not only didn't help me, couldn't help me, but she damaged me further.

This is not to say that I didn't have people around me, but I built such a wall around my emotions, that all my interactions were kept at arm's length.  I may have had quite a few acquaintances, but I had no real friends.

It was not until I discovered my new therapist, that the on-going journey of recovery began.

*******

It looks like the deranged mind has rambled, hopefully temporarily, onto a side path that will at some point reconnect to the main path of trauma and how ignorance of trauma hinders those who are attempting to walk with the survivor (or victim) of workplace abuse.  

Until the below collection of physical trails in a Canadian national park which are neatly laid out, those trails the survivor of workplace abuse follows are not neatly laid out and whereas physically, it is only possible to access one trail at a time, emotionally us survivors may be working on any numbers of "trails" at any given time concurrently.

Looking closer in relationships has been a huge part of my journey in the last few months which is why I'm turning aside on this blog for a short time, to look at it a bit more closer.

I have a feeling we'll be jumping back and forth between relationships, perceptions and assumptions i.e. lies and trauma quite a bit in the posts to come.

Until tomorrow ....