On the road to recovery post workplace abuse: The place of Analysis in the Process

My current therapist says that my ability to analyse is one of my greatest strengths.  My former therapist said that I analyse things to death -which was a scathing criticism.  A close relative criticized my analytical side brutally as well.

Two sides of the same coin.

Which is the right side?  The right way to look at things?

I guess it depends on the bystander who is observing.

For me, I use my analyzation skills to think through a situation, figure out what went wrong and what would work better.

I've used this ability for decades.

Let me give you an example from decades ago - close to the beginning our my marriage adventure.

Many years ago, as a newlywed, hubby and I went on our first camping trip.  It can best be described in two words:  unmitigated disaster.

It would be easier to say what went right than what went wrong:  we set up camp in a leaky pup tent in a rain storm at a provincial camp ground - which is pretty well camping in the rough - or at that time back in the early '80s it was.  Way out in the middle of nowhere.  No services.  Not even any park personnel as they were on strike.  It was on the honour system.  You signed a form for how many nights you were going to stay, left the money in a sealed envelope and chose a site.  Oh, did I mention that I'd never, ever been camping before?  I'd never ever been camping before.  This was my "maiden voyage", my first trip down the bunny hill.  Problem is a provincial park is one step below the black diamond - back country camping.  Arduous camping for the experienced, the motivated.  Those who don't think that roughing it is a high class hotel.

At that time, provincial campgrounds for the most part were cheap and unserviced.  No showers.  No washrooms.  Outhouses, smelly outhouses, for bathrooms.  Things have changed a lot since those days.  Most campgrounds come with well maintained washrooms - including showers.

We were living more on love at the time than money, so we'd done this trip as on the cheap as possible.  A three-man pup tent.  Two cheap vinyl floatation mattresses which we pushed together.  A camping stove someone had picked up at a garage sale and gave to us.  We splurged on a fly - which turned out not to be waterproof.  So much for that "luxury".

Anyway, as we drove to the provincial campground, it became more and more obvious the further along we got that I was getting sick.  By the time we got there, I was in the middle of a rip roaring case of a high fever.  Poor, long sufferin' hubby, the man who stood at the alter with me and promised to love, honour and set up my tent in the rain etc., manfully started putting up the tent.  Once the tent was up, he inflated the two cheap vinyl air mattresses, pushed them together, put sleeping bags on them and carried me to one.  He also set up the stove to make a quick supper - in the doorway of the tent.  Bad idea.  We discovered quickly why the stove had been sold at a garage sale so cheaply.  The flame flared up - and almost set the tent on fire.  Not a good idea to cremate your bride on her first caping trip.  It just does not set a good example for thins to come.

Things went from bad to worse during the night.  It continued raining all night - actually downpour is the better word.  The tent leaked.  The air matresses floated in opposite directions with a pool of water between them.  I was feverish by that time.  Hubby was cold.  He turned over to get to the source of the heat - me - and ended up in - you guessed it! - the puddle of water.  He was not a happy camper.

Daylight couldn't come soon enough.  As soon as possible, he put me in the car, packed up and we headed south towards civilization.  Civilization in this case being a mobile home which a relative had in a KOA campground which is where we finished out our holiday.

This could easily have been the end of the story - and my career as a camper.  But it wasn't.

The campground was very busy.  It also was not out in the middle of nowhere.  It had a small camp store, a pool and other amenities such as washrooms with showers.  And here is where my analytical abilities stepped in.

I would walk around the camp.  I talked to other campers.  I observed how they did things, what gear they had.  Looking to see what worked for other people.   When we got back home, I thought about how we could go camping again without experiencing all the difficulties we'd experienced the first time.

We did keep the pup tent for a few more adventures but as we added kids to the adventure, we purchased a much larger dome tent - which was to me the height of luxury.

The two cheap vinyl air mattresses were replaced with a good quality, double air mattress designed for camping - not swimming pools.  Ditto, a double sleeping bag.  The stove we did keep for a few more years.  Hubby was the sole one who could manage it.  And it was always used on a picnic table.  It was replaced with a propane camp stove (from Sears which we still use 30 years later) when we took our then four year old on her first camping expedition and she ran to the tent crying out to her dad:  "Come quickly!  Mom's trying to light the stove!"

Weather and illness are not controllable.  But we did buy a cheap plastic sheet to cover the tent in the advent of bad weather.  Crude but effective.  It worked.

The most important thing we did though, was to avoid the "black diamond" i.e. provincial parks for a bit and did what I called "civilized" camping.  The campgrounds like the KOAs with pools, camp stores, bathrooms. etc.  We went to provincial campgrounds for only a day or two at first, sandwiching that adventure in between stays at commercial campgrounds until we all became comfortable.

When people hear about the misadventures of our first camping trip, they're always amazed that I ever went a second time.  Totally astonished that I enjoyed camping and that it became a way of life for us as a family.

This is the approach I use in all of life's difficult situations:  what went wrong?  what went right?  what can I do to make it better another time?

It works.  For me, that is.

Until next time.

Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: Getting back on track with recovery

As you can see from my recent posts, that the ending of the old year and the coming of the new year has put me in an introspective sort of mood.

I don't believe in resolutions as they tend to be short-lived and in the end do more damage than good as they fall rather quickly by the wayside and guilt ensues.  I don't need any more guilt on top of that which I already carry around from various incidents ... and am working hard to get rid of.

However, I do believe in goals.  Long-term.  Short-term.

Looking back at the first few months of 2014, I realize that I was doing fairly well in making some rather necessary long-term lifestyle changes.  For the first time in years, I had engaged in several changes.  (1) Eating breakfast which was preparatory for (2) regular exercise.  As it was winter - and a bitter cold one at that, I was utilizing a stationary bicycle in our basement.  I was also engaged in reading a devotional, Jesus Calling by Sarah Young, each morning and the corresponding Bible verses.  Each of these three changes, had a significant positive impact in my life.

As I continued with these simple lifestyle changes which I was hoping would become part of my permanent lifestyle, I began to take more control of my life with the exercise and then enlarged that with taking control of my diet.  Working on eating healthier.  I lost a few pounds.  The doctor was able to take me off of two blood pressure medications that I had been on for years.  A major victory.  I felt I was becoming whole again.

Life was starting to be good once again.

And then things started to slide slowly downhill.

First, I had a bout with pneumonia which laid me on my back for the better part of a week.  Hubby took off work to be with me, I was that sick.  The exercise and healthy eating went down the tubes for that time period.  Let's face it, it's hard to exercise when you're having trouble breathing.  It's hard to eat anything when your fever is raging and you're lying in bed.

Then, just a few weeks later, when I was starting to recover from the bout with pneumonia, I got knocked down a second time.  Hard.  This time I had what we now know was a cluster headache - or rather a cluster migraine:  an extremely painful headache that comes out of nowhere and brings on extreme pain within seconds of onset.

Debilitating is one word for it.  Painful is another.  Also, especially since I'd never experienced anything like this before, there is always the not knowing whether it is something to be very concerned about ... like a bleed in the brain ... or "just" a headache.

At the age of 64, I experienced my first ever ambulance ride.  My daughter met me at the hospital.  After spending the better part of the day there, the doctor informed me that (a) I do have a brain (I do love a doctor with a sense of humour!) and (b) as far as they could tell there was no bleeding in my brain.

Good news to be sure.  BUT ... this headache lasted for nine straight days.

Sigh.

Also, in the same timeframe, I had initiated a relationship with a woman who was going through similar things to myself.  I reached out to her, thinking she could use a friend.  Someone who had already gone through some of the things she had.  Someone who could walk with her.  Instead, the relationship became more and more one-sided.  She began to make demands that I couldn't fulfil.  She would vent at me.  I was damaged myself.  I was working towards recovery myself.  I was in no position to carry her.  I simply wasn't strong enough.  My time and thoughts became more and more consumed with this woman and her needs to the point where I was neglecting my own needs and my family's needs.

These three things combined started the downward slide.  I never did resume the healthy eating and exercise after the bout with pneumonia.  The lies I've mentioned in an earlier post - "I'm not good enough" and "My best is not good enough" rose up to torment me by the spring of the year ... and never left.

At the very end of 2014, while working on a special hat - a Christmas tree hat - for one of my grandchildren, I had a thought which was originally concerning the hat, but which I eventually realized seemed to sum up my life at that point.

I was off track.  With both the knitting of the hat and, more importantly, with my life.  I needed to find a way to get back on track.  To take control once again.  To work towards recovery and enjoying life.  To work towards the point where life was good once again.  Altered maybe.  Different from the past.  But still good.  Very good in it's own way.

At that point, I didn't have a clue.

And that, my friends and readers, is what these first few days of 2015 has been all about ... to find a way to get back on track.

There is too much happening in my life, positive things, right now to cover them in one post.  Just know that just like the finished hat on my grandson's head above, I'm finding ways to start getting my life and my recovery back on track.

Until next week....

In the bleak midwinter ....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: Moving past the trauma

Last week began with high hopes to put the resurgent traumas behind me and move forward - even if only a little bit.  One tiny step at a time.  To learn to live with "what is" rather than with "what I want it to be".  To form new coping techniques to fit the situation I am in at present.

By this, I'm referring to what to some might call the "grain of sand in my shoes" - the on-going situation with the mail delivery - or rather lack thereof.

It has hit me - and the other residents on my street - hard because there was no way any of us could have foreseen this.  We were well and truly blindsided when a new postie, who apparently wanted this route, took over and discovered there were some difficulties she hadn't foreseen  i.e. the detour which has caused more traffic on our road.  She was unprepared to work in this situation, even though she had wanted this route, and very quickly, probably within days, of taking over the route played the "safety" card.

With a powerful union such as CUPW (Canadian Union of Postal Workers) behind her, using the safety card guaranteed her of several things.  One:  that she would be granted her wishes of not working the parts of the route she didn't like.  Two:  that there would not be any repercussions for her.  No discipline.  No write-ups.  Nothing negative on her record.  Three:  that she cannot lose her job or her route.

Because she's played the safety card, no one can take over the route.

She is untouchable.

She has all the power and the control.

Even when she jeers at residents and taunts them when they ask when they're going to get their mail delivery back, she is untouchable.

Even though she apparently has trouble delivering the right mail into the right boxes on the parts of the route she is delivering to.

She can severely impact our lives, our routines, even our health because of her "rights".  Not only the rights she has due to government safety legislation, but also more extensive rights under her binding union agreement.

She has the right not to walk on the grass.  Which to me makes no sense as the grassy area adjacent to the road is city-owned and is safe.

She has the right to make a "safety" complaint without fear of reprisal.

She has the right basically, from my perspective, to do what she pleases.

She has the voice.

She has the power.

Any complaints we make such as allegations based on my research that she is a toxic employee or that she is incompetent because of the misdelivery of mail fall in deaf ears.  We are not Canada Post employees; therefore, we have no rights.  Period.

We are left with nothing.

No power.  No control.  No voice.  No representation.  No communication as to what we can expect.

Not even the community mailbox which we were promised would be delivered and installed within the first week.

We are left up in the air to wonder what is going on.  Will we ever get our mail back once the construction on the street below us is completed - which should be soon?  Or will this continue?  Is the stoppage permanent?

I was told two weeks ago that the community boxes were being shipped.  Unfortunately, the postal supervisor did not inform me exactly where those boxes were being shipped to.  Wherever, they're going, it apparently isn't to our area.  We still don't have them.

We are entering our fourth week of the situation and coping as best we can.  One resident is stopping by the distribution centre once a week and picking up the mail for 15-16 residents and delivering it to their doors.

*******

I began last week with high hopes of putting this behind me.  Of working through the trauma.  Of finding creative ways to cope with our altered situation.  Of resuming my life, post workplace abuse, as I know it.  Of writing my blog daily again.

But ....

... life intervened as it has a habit of doing.

I got sick.  The shooting in Ottawa, my nation's capital happened.  A relative in hubby's extended family passed away.  The funeral for this relative.  A birthday celebration for an aged relative, also in the same part of the extended family.  And I can't remember what else.

The mind stopped working.  The body was definitely having its issues and taking its time getting back to normal - whatever normal is.  

The creative juices stopped flowing.  Lethargy became my constant companion.

But today, we start a new week.  A fresh slate.

Today.

I will only have this day once in my entire life.  As I start it, I ask myself:  "What will I make of today."

That is a question only time can answer.

Until tomorrow ....

Post Workplace Abuse: Unexpected challenges yet life is still worth living

I started this post months ago in the period after I went to Write Canada.  Going to Write Canada was a significant event in my journey towards recovery post workplace abuse.  It is one of several unfinished posts in which I cached pieces of other posts which just didn't seem to fit in at the moment.

Right now, right at this moment in space and time, dear friends, I feel totally wiped.  Worn out.  My mind doesn't want to function.  My body wants to stay in bed.  Things that used to interest me, don't light my fire right now.

In short, I have a lot of the symptoms of depression according to the linked article from Huffpost.

I also feel disjointed - which is why I think reinventing this old conglomeration of bits and pieces from other posts fits today.  It fits the way I feel.

Yet, at the same time, disjointed and lacking in continuity as it may be, it does have a certain amount of fluidity.

In my journey towards recovery from workplace abuse, depression seems to be part and parcel of the journey.  Sometimes worse than other times.  Sometimes better.  It sort of seems to wax and wane like the moon.

The problem is to realize it for what it is.  If I can realize what it is, what I'm going through for example identify trauma, complex PTSD and depression in my life, then I am able to deal with them, to cope, better.

This post starts with Write Canada, goes on to an earlier part of the journey and then goes back to Write Canada.  It sort of meanders all over the place - like that creek I mentioned in my last post.

Yet ... yet, I think there is some validity in sharing these disjointed parts of my journey.  Because although disjointed, they still form a whole.

*******

Sandra Orchard, Published fiction writer from Ontario, who conducted some of the workshops who just happens to be wearing one of the scarves I made and brought to give away to anyone who blessed me.

Conquer?  Not exactly.  Write Canada does not need to be conquered.  It is not Mount Everest.  It is a group of people, mostly Christian people, who write.  We come from all over Canada, East and West, we come to share this time, to meet new people, to reconnect, to learn and to grow as writers.

Me.  I came with my own agenda.

To continue on the course of recovery from Workplace Abuse.  My own personal Mount Everest.

The journey home from a place which left me lost, alone and lonely.

From picture archives 2011 of ambitious camping trip in what is called the "Near North" of Ontario

I had no way of knowing back in 2011 when everything was happening at the workplace and I had those two back-to-back stress breakdowns what was in store for me.

I knew that what I was experiencing in the workplace was trauma.  I knew that I had complex PTSD from previous situations including and especially the first run in with workplace abuse.  But I really didn't understand how profoundly trauma was going to affect every aspect of my life and how long it was going to last.

It was like starting out on an unplanned, unexpected journey on the spur of the moment with absolutely no idea of where I was going or how I has going to get there.  If I got there at all.

The breakdowns and initial damage occurred in late winter/early spring of 2011.  By the fall of 2011, I was starting to move into what I now know was the chronic phase.  I was tired all the time.  A tiredness that never went away.  We had planned a two-week camping adventure starting out at Tobermory Ontario on the Bruce Peninsula, taking the ferry across to Manitoulin Island and then making our way across to Saulte Sainte Marie, up to Manitouwadge, Ontario and on back.  Little did I know at the time how challenging this trip would be.  How severe the damage was.  And that it was going to last for quite for time.

I simply thought if I got a good night's rest I would be fine.

That didn't happen.

I did notice that I felt safer in smaller spaces.  We have two tents and my husband chose to bring the small, canoe camping tent rather than the larger one.  I was glad he did.  I felt comfortable in that small, enclosed space which held so many good memories of previous trips when it was just hubby, me, the canoe and God.

The old lighthouse, now unused, at Big Tug Harbour, Tobermorey, Ontario

I also noticed that I had quite a startle reaction.  On our first night in Tobermory, a young child ran past me emitting loud noises - as children do.  And I startled badly.  I stopped.  I had a panic reaction.  It was then that we realized that going into a restaurant for our evening meal was not going to work.  Hubby suggested we buy sandwiches, etc. at the local food store and then go to the old lighthouse to eat them.  There were lots of other people there and I started to panic again, but hubby knew what I needed and led me to a secluded spot in the rocks where we could sit virtually unnoticed and simply observe as we ate our supper.

What I've described in today's blog was only the beginning of the affects of the trauma which became apparent in the days, weeks and months to come.  Affects I still wrestle with.

The "long and short" of it.  Myself and Heidi, one of the hardest working and funniest women I have ever met at Write Canada 2014

This is part of the background of the story as to why even being able to go to Write Canada 2013 with my niece as constant companion was such a victory and why going alone this year to Write Canada 2014 felt akin to climbing Mount Everest - or perhaps going up the CN Tower.

Also, why I find life such a challenge even now more than three years past the initial injury, the initial trauma.

*******

Life, my friends, is all about living.  Living to the fullest.  Living to the best of our abilities DESPITE our challenges.

During my journey - and largely because of it, I have had the privilege of meeting many people mostly through the net who are as disenfranchised in their own situations as I am in mine.  Most of these people have autoimmune diseases which have caused drastic changes in their lives.  Pain.  Immobility. 

Yet these people soldier on.

Life, I am finding is not about avoiding all obstacles and challenges but in meeting them head on and finding a way to cope with them.

Today, my challenge - should I choose to accept it - is to find a way to rebalance myself and soldier on.

I accept the challenge.

Until tomorrow ....

Surviving Workplace Abuse - financial repercussions

Our mini vacation is drawing to an end.  It's time to go back home - and face our present reality.  Hopefully with slightly different eyes and more hope for a better tomorrow.

Our reality as a couple post workplace abuse includes that of financial constraints and difficulties which I haven't mentioned before in this blog.

I haven't worked since all the drama at the workplace.  It's not that I haven't wanted to; however, each time I would take a step - or a thought - in that direction, the physical problems would reassert themselves.

At one point, I itched so badly over most of my body that even having something touching me was unbearable.  And let's face it, even the most relaxed dress code doesn't allow for nudity in the workplace.

The fatigue, I think, has been one of the worst affects.  Especially in the beginning.  Any time I would try to do something to move forward and regain what I had lost,  even a small thing like taking a walk, would cause so much fatigue that I would sleep for long periods of time for days afterwards.   Again, it helps to be able to be able to show up for work when scheduled.

But the most dramatic affect which affected both of us, was our loss of income.  For a short period of time, I had an exit package which tided us over the beginning period.  As that period drew to an end, I was worried about how we were going to manage the transition from two full-time paycheques to one.  I needn't have worried - at least about that.  Because we didn't go from two to one; we went from two to none.

Hubby was unexpectedly laid off from his job of 14 years without notice.  So, we went from two paycheques and benefits to zero - in about two weeks flat.

Try it sometime.  I doubt you're going to like it.  We didn't.

Since then, our life has been a constant struggle trying to find full-time lasting employment for hubby.

We've found short-term gigs but nothing that has become permanent.  For the last year, hubby has been driving patient transfer.  What began with high hopes has become a bust as the hours and the pay just isn't there.  Neither are the benefits.  There have been some weeks when he's cleared a little over $100/week.  Try living on that, folks.  It ain't easy.

We've been living on our savings and watching it continually dwindle.

I think this is one of the most draining aspects of life post workplace abuse.  Something that's rarely mentioned.  Yet, it needs to be mentioned and recognized as part and parcel of the experience.

Severely reduced financial circumstances are part of our lives.

Yet, we have each other.  Our relationship has grown and strengthened through the journey.  We've learned to honour and value each other in ways that we might not otherwise.  We've learned to realize what each other's strengths and weaknesses are and to learn to rely on  the other's strengths.

We've grown both as individuals and as a couple.

To this morning after I push the final button and publish this posting, we head back to our reality post workplace abuse.  

But we head back refreshed by these few days away together.

Until tomorrow ....

Post Workplace Abuse: Another Piece of Debunking the Lies

Coming back from a day out, we found ourselves in a huge traffic jam on the highway.  At first, we had no idea what was causing it.  Then we saw smoke.  Black smoke.  A lot of it.  Hubby perceived that it was a car on fire.  I didn't know.  I was afraid to commit to anything.  Fire trucks roared past us on the side.  By the time, traffic started moving again and we passed what had been causing the blockage, this was all that was left to see.  All that was left of someone's vehicle.

With a car, it's relatively simple.  It gets towed to a mechanic and assessed for repairability - which I'm guessing - or should I say perceiving? - in this case was not going to happen.  It either gets repaired or replaced.  If the owner is lucky and has a clause in their insurance for a rental vehicle, they will be on their way to wherever within a few hours of the incident.  Incident over.  At least the physical part of it. Trauma from the incident is another thing.  As is trauma from workplace abuse.

With trauma, PTSD, workplace abuse, things are never so clear cut.

The time out at Myrtle Beach did me a world of good emotionally and spiritually.  I still was extremely fatigued and had to ration my energy vigilantly.

However, coming back home, I now had a course of action to pursue.

I had received an inheritance a few months earlier and decided to use part of it to pursue therapy on my wrist as it was still extremely painful and limiting.  That became my first priority on the road to recovery at that time.

Arriving home, I looked up the firm my doctor had recommended and booked my first appointment.

My therapist was brusque but very, very good.  Also very, very competent.  She knew what she was doing. She also knew that she had to cause pain in the short-term in order to alleviate it in the long term.

The first step was to work on the muscles - or whatever - in the wrist/arm area manually.  This meant bending it, squeezing it, massaging it, causing intense pain.

I had already learned that I have a very low pain tolerance which I had communicated to her early on in our first meeting.  It didn't take her long to realize how right on I was with my assessment/perception re: pain tolerance levels.

At our second session I think it was, I said that maybe I should take a heavy duty pain killer before coming.  I think I said that after I yelped - again - in pain.

And my therapist said something I have never forgotten.  Something which continued the theme of debunking the lie of perception and assumption.

She said:

You need to be able to perceive pain.

Those were her exact words:  you need to be able to perceive pain.

I had wanted to keep my past out of this present piece of my road to recovery; however, when you're in a cubicle with someone who is causing you some of the most severe pain you've ever experienced in your life in order to recover from an energy - a physical injury - you start to get personal.  And when they said something as dead on to what you're currently dealing with as that, it's hard not to say how it related to my situation.  

What a nugget that one simple sentence was to me on my road to recovery.

Thus, began a new facet on the road to debunking that particular lie about perceptions, especially my perceptions, being bad.  My physical therapist ironically became a key component in this part of the emotional journey.  As she worked on my wrist, I worked on my other issues.

I learned that you need to be able to perceive things.  Going back to the original definitions from my trusty, dusty dictionary:  you need to be able to feel.  You need to be able to see.  Both of those are part and parcel of perceiving.

I was perceiving pain because I was feeling it.

We were perceiving we were in the correct place to find the earth cam, because we were seeing the flags, the boardwalk, the exact view we saw from our computer in Canada.

Perceptions are good.

Perceptions are needed in order to safely navigate through life.  There's nothing wrong with them.  We all have them.  We all use them on our individual journeys through life. 

What if I had ignored the tremendous amount of pain I felt - or perceived - that day in the bathtub?

What if hubby had ignored the sight of my wrist in an "s" curve that day?

I perceived I'd broken my wrist because of the extreme pain as I'd once heard someone say that a broken bone is one of the most painful experiences a person can ever have.  I was experiencing a pain that was not calming down after a few moments.  So intense, I could not move the rest of my body.  I had to have help getting up, getting dressed, even going into the emergency room that day.

Hubby perceived I'd broken my wrist not because I told him I'd broken it - which I had - but because he saw it at an angle it should not have been.

Perceptions and assumptions.

It appears they're good things to have on the journey.

Never leave home without them.

As this picture was taken looking down on a path we'd walked earlier, the perspective of our walk was different.  We were seeing the things we'd experienced from a totally different angle.

So it is with writing this blog especially about this time of debunking the myths, the lies, about perceptions and assumptions.

I'm writing this looking back on the experiences which helped me start to move forward.  To start to realize that this was indeed a lie.  A lie that was holding me back.

However, pieces I've written, such as that perceptions are common to all of us is something I'm still realizing and internalizing.  I'm still as I write working on this.

As I write these posts, internalization, realization and healing continue coming.

Thank you for joining me on my journey.

See you tomorrow when we continue the journey ....