Surviving Workplace Abuse: The place of creativity in recovery

The picture above is of the back wall of my "safe room" which has also been dubbed "the office" as my computer is there, "the entertainment centre" as my DVDs are also housed in this room where I watch them on the computer rather than on a TV, and also as "the creation centre" as this is where I make things - the place where I allow my imagination to run wild with words, with thoughts, with colours, with whatever.

In previous times aka times before workplace abuse, I could only do things according to a pattern or a recipe as in cooking.  I was completely limited to the exact quantities and components as given in patterns or recipes.  My mind could not comprehend making substitutions or changing the script in any way, shape or form.

And then came trauma ....

I've read (somewhere, I can't remember where now) that trauma unlocks creativity in the victim.  I'm not sure why - and I can't remember now the rest of the article.  Only that those words hit a cord in me because I could see it happening in my own life.  In my own journey during the worst of the trauma and especially during recovery.

We tend to think of creativity as involving the arts - especially painting.  Yet it is so much more than that which is why I've copied a definition of creativity from Wikipedia below.

Creativity is a phenomenon whereby something new is created (such as an idea, a joke, an artistic or literary work, a painting or musical composition, a solution, an invention etc.). The ideas and concepts so conceived can then manifest themselves in any number of ways, but most often, they become something we can see, hear, smell, touch, or taste. The range of scholarly interest in creativity includes a multitude of definitions and approaches involving several disciplines; psychology, cognitive science, education, philosophy (particularly philosophy of science),technology, theology, sociology, linguistics, business studies, songwriting and economics, taking in the relationship between creativity and general intelligence, mental and neurological processes associated with creativity, the relationships between personality type and creative ability and between creativity and mental health, the potential for fostering creativity through education and training, especially as augmented by technology, and the application of creative resources to improve the effectiveness of learning and teaching processes.

For me, the most dominant form of creativity has been manifested in the works both knit and crochet that I do with my hands.  Yet it also comes into play in my kitchen as well as other areas of my life.

This afghan, which I call the "Juliet afghan" after the first recipient of one, was an act of pure imagination for me.  I had met this young lady during our "memory lane" trip back to where hubby and I had met 30 years prior.  Hubby and I accidentally reconnected with her parents whom I had worked with on the mission field all those years ago.  Within 2 1/2 years of our meeting, both of her parents died of different causes leaving Juliet as what we call an "adult orphan".  My heart went out to this young lady whom I had only met once or twice and I wanted to do something special for her.  Something that might help her through her journey of grief.  So I decided to make her what I call a prayerghan.  An afghan sprinkled with prayer in its creation.

On the right is a picture of another afghan, one I was making for my mom when she passed away.  This was the format I intended to use for Juliet's afghan.  Yet, as I searched out possible yarns in my stash, my imagination got carried away with itself.  It became (to me at least) a piece of knit art combining all sorts of different yarns, colours, yarn weights, fibres.  It cannot be duplicated.  The concept can - and has - been duplicated once.  But each Juliet afghan is so very different because of the combination of yarns used.  No two are alike.

Above and below are two different shots of Juliet's afghan.

A shot of a second Juliet afghan, now completed and rehomed, is below.

As I knit there seems to be a magical connection between my brain and my fingers - completely bypassing my mind.

As I watch things grow beneath my fingers, as I feel the texture of the yarn(s), I seem to come alive with newness, with purpose.

I call knitting my right brain therapy.

And so it is.

Yesterday, I wrote about a typical day in the life.  Of course, in reality there is no "typical" day in anyone's life as each one is different and unique in its own way.

Yet, a "typical" day for me includes hours spent doing my favourite right brain "therapy": knitting.  Creating something special.  Something which will eventually be given - or sold - to someone.  A therapy which not only allows my left brain, the analytical part, the part which is constantly trying to make sense of a situation (the bullying) which makes no sense, to rest and to heal.  It gives me a break from the constant torment of remembering what happened.  It provides a purpose in my life.

*******

I have an inactive blog called The Naked Knitter.  I started this blog to chronicle my activities in the knitting realm so I haven''t blogged much about knitting in this blog, my ramblings.  Yet, I find it impossible to separate the two.  This blog is about recovery from workplace bullying, from trauma.  For me, knitting has been and continues to be a huge part of my (admittedly slow) journey towards recovery and I think it appropriate to start including pieces of that part of my journey here in this blog.

Each person who is recovering from trauma - whatever their trauma may be - needs something they enjoy doing as part of their recovery process.  Something that brings them pleasure and fulfillment.  For each of us, that will be different.  For me, I think in the arts such as photography, knitting, crocheting, writing.  For others, it will be something different.  Perhaps building something, woodwork, dancing, sculpting (oops! that's arts again but very, very hands on), skating, etc.  A place where the person can simply enjoy what they're doing and even if for only a brief period of time, let their right brain take over so their left brain can rest.

Until tomorrow....

Post Workplace Bullying: Chronic lingerings from the abuse

A random picture from my trip to Belize last winter

Yesterday, I wrote about "If I could do anything post workplace abuse, what would I do?" in which I wrote that I would travel, take pictures and write.  In that order; however, all rolled into one ball.  One package.

What is holding me back from realizing that dream?  From making this a reality.  I have the vision.  I have the skills.  I have the equipment i.e. the camera and the laptop.   I'm pretty far along on the road to recovery.  Or at least, I like to think that I am.

So what is holding me back from making my dream a reality?

In short:  the lingering affects of the workplace abuse.

Let's face it, I'm not the same person I was before this all happened.  Or even during.

I used to be a high energy person.  Extroverted, even.  I used to be highly articulate.  Not any more.

The two back-to-back stress breakdowns I experienced while still employed left me initially in an acute state of disrepair.

Some months later, the acute became chronic.  I still, three years and counting, work with the chronic, lingering affects of the bullying, the brutal stress on a daily basis.  Each time I feel like I'm getting stronger and should be able to start reaching for my dreams, something comes along to knock me down - again.  Recently, it's been the on-going, unresolvable situation with the mail which knocked me for a loop because it triggered.

Another place (the jetties at South Padre Island, Texas), another time.  Before.

I'm not the same person I was.  Physically.  Emotionally.  Spiritually.  Financially.

The two aspects that have been impacted positively are emotionally and spiritually.

The two that have been impacted negatively are physically and financially.  Both of which play crucial parts in my plans - or should I say attempts - to rebuild my life.  I no longer have the physical or financial resources to do the things I want to do.  I don't have the money to buy a plane ticket and fly to wherever.  Physically, once I get there, I would probably have to lie low and rest.

You've probably heard the saying:  the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

Well, there you have it in a nutshell.  My spirit is willing.  Very willing.  It can think of all sorts of ideas and feel strong enough to carry them out.

But the flesh, unfortunately, has other ideas.  It isn't able to carry out what the spirit dreams up.  It keeps going on "strike" at inopportune times.  It demands naps.  It gets shaky.  The mind still has affects that crop up regularly.  Confusion, poor cognitive skills - meaning sometimes I can't think straight or get a complete sentence out of my mouth.

With all these things going on in my mind and body at will - their will, not mine - how can I even think of committing myself to being some place at a specific time and date to take pictures.  Especially, how can I even think of going on a trip with a group of people where I'm not there as a participant but in an official capacity as their blogger and photographer?  Would I be able to fulfill their expectations satisfactorily?  Would I be able to fulfil my own expectations?

*******

The other day, hubby took me on a day trip to a place we've been before:  Hamilton mountain - which is not really a mountain per se but is part of the Niagara escarpment.  There's a park up there overlooking the industrial area of Hamilton (Ontario) and Lake Ontario.  It's a great spot for picture taking.

We had a great time, but had to cut our outing short as I was getting tired.  By the time, we got back home I was more than ready for a nap.  In fact, functioning was out of the question until I got that nap.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get "well" - meaning well enough to maintain a normal routine which involves going outside my house, my safe place, interacting with others?  Even earning money?  Or am I doomed to stay on this iffy, on again-off again road?

I get frustrated regularly as I walk this road I never asked to go on.  The grain of sand in my shoe wears me out.

Yet every so often, I see glimmers of hope shining through.  Those glimmers of hope are what I cling to when I have a relapse and things go dark again.  They keep me going.

Until tomorrow....

Post Workplace Bullying: If I could do anything, what would I do?

Belize topography from the air

In a past post, I focussed on what brings me joy in the journey.  What good things can I focus on?

My synopsis?  Flowers, taking photos, writing, creating, taking photos, writing ....  All of these things float my boat.  Or light my fire.  To use cliches.

I ended the post expanding on that theme with a question I've been asking myself for most of this past year:  If I could do anything in the whole wide world post workplace abuse, what would I choose to do?

In other words:  what turns my crank?  Or floats my boat?  Or lights my fire?  (Hey! I like, really like, those cliches.)

The clock tower in Punta Gorda, Belize

Besides photography, writing and creating?

One word:  travel.  I am, and always have been, fascinated by other places.

The market in Punta Gorda, Belize

 I would take my camera and laptop - and maybe my closest friend and ally, hubby, and visit places and people who intrigue me.  I would photograph them and tell their stories.

Putting all three of my most dominant, creative interests together in one career path.  If I could do anything in the world with the skills, interests and talents which I already have - and the equipment such as my camera and laptop - I would liaise with people or groups going on trips to become their group's "official" (non professional event) photographer and blogger.

Punta Gorda sits right on the Carribean

Why?  Because I've always been avidly interested in people, etc.  I'm a people person, which is probably why the bullying I endured in my last two workplaces where I was always deemed deficient in some way or another by people damaged me so badly.

This idea started percolating in my brain as I was thinking of ways of pursuing recovery + a possible writing career + a possible photography career.

I'm not a professional photographer.  Far from it.  But you've got to admit I take a lot of pictures which form a fairly comprehensive view of the experience.

And some of them turn out good.  Really good.  I'm also comprehensive and take lots of pictures of various things from different angles.  I've learned that recording a trip for posterity is not all about the scenic photos, the places, etc.  It's about the people too.  So when I took that trip to Belize last winter with one of my sisters in law to visit others in hubby's family who were already there, eventually I realized that my pictures, my recording of this amazing trip wasn't all about  me.  Far from it.  it was about all of us.  So, I switched my focus from scenery, etc. - although I got lots of those pics too - but started to think of what those I was with would like.  Pictures of them.  Character shots if I could get them.  Pictures of things they would enjoy seeing.  I became known as the "woman with the camera".

All the pictures in today's blog were taken during a trip I made to Belize last February - mandatory camera in tow.

Almond tree

And there were stories we shared.  One of my favorite, shared stories and experiences concerns this tree.  Walking along this road by the Caribbean Sea with my mother in law on my first day in Punta Gorda, she pointed out this tree and told me it was an almond tree.  I'd never seen  an almond tree up close and personal before so I was fascinated - and, of course, took a picture of it.  The next day, I was walking along this same road and came to this same tree with my sister in law who was not with us the previous day and shared with her my newfound knowledge.  There was a man and his family sitting under the tree, so she turned to the man and asked him:  "Sir, what kind of tree is this."  "A shade tree," he solemnly confided.

Although the rest of the pictures in this blog posting perhaps don't have the same shared memory with a close friend or family member, each one tells a piece of the story of the adventure in their own right.

Scenes I've never seen before - and may well never see again.  Scenes that stirred something in me.  Such as this picture of tranquility by the Caribbean.

Or this shack which we walked by each time we went to visit my sister in law who was down there for the winter. It looks unliveable - especially to the Western mind.  However, we actually saw someone resting underneath it one day.  Who waved to us as we passed by.

And then there's this truck - which I assume is not in use any more.  However, in a place like Belize, you never really know, do you?  I was fascinated by it's derelict condition and the vines growing in it and through it.  I'd never seen anything like it before in all my travels.

There's the main street of the town where my sister in law and I had quite a bonding adventure and experience.

The restaurant that looks like nothing more than a shack but has delicious food inside.  Also a dock where we met the boat which took us on a memorable trip to an island in the Caribbean.

And lastly, being able to indulge my passion for photographing birds - especially pelicans - of which there was an abundance there but none here in the northern inland locale I live in.

Memories.  These pictures, this blog posting, are steeped in memories of an experience, a good experience on the road to recovery.  A shared experience.

These pictures are not all about me.  They're about all of us who were part of that shared experience.

These are just a small taste of the pictures I took during that trip.  Pictures which have taken on a life of their own in a sense as I gave them to the others in our group electronically and they have been shared with others.

Pictures which bring back, not just for me, but for all of us, the essence of that experience.

If I could do anything, this is what I would do.  Travel.  Take pictures.  Blog about the experience.  And, most importantly of all, share it with others.

Until tomorrow....