Today on the Journey of Recovery from workplace abuse.

Stratford Ontario - behind the main drag

Today is what I call my "Stratford day".  My counselling day.

The main constant throughout this journey has been my counsellor who has stuck with me through thick and thin.  Who has affirmed me.  Who has constantly believed in me.  That. I. Can. Do. This.  I can recover.  I can become whole.  In time.  It is possible.  No!  It is probable.

I was originally told this woman was amazing.  I was sceptical, very sceptical when I heard that.  After all, I was looking for a new counsellor because my old one had turned abusive and I was leaving her office distraught, crying, suicidal.  Besides that, amazing was not a word I would connect with a therapist.  But what the hay! I decided to try her.  Simply because my son-in-law recommended her.

I learned.  She is amazing.  She is getting the results my former therapist wanted but was unable to get with her methodology.  My current therapist has simply provided a safe place for me to be me.  To express my opinions and feelings without fear of repercussions.

My biggest concern going into this counselling relationship (besides a very real fear that I was beyond redemption based on my former counselling relationship) was her office location.  It was housed in a very small town, Milverton, Ontario, http://derangedmindtalk.blogspot.ca/2012/02/beautiful-downtown-milverton.html which necessitated a 45 minute drive through the countryside.  I hated driving.  Scratch that.  I was extremely afraid of driving.  Ok, I could do well in the city itself, but it was intracity driving that terrified me.  However, I committed myself.  By doing so, I gradually conquered that fear and learned to enjoy the ride.

Several years ago, my counsellor changed her office location to Stratford Ontario - another 45 km away.  Just in a different direction.

Stratford, Ontario:

• Hometown of Justin Bieber
• Home of Ali Matthews
• Home of Boomers 
• Home of the Stratford Festival
• Home of Close Knit - my mentors on the knitting journey.

Today is part of my continuing journey through the devastation workplace abuse left in my life.  Devastation that is slowly being cleared away.  Piece by piece.

Yet, the journey has not been all "sackcloth and ashes".  There have been times of victory.

My continuing journey, lengthy though it has been, has also become a celebration of courage and strength to keep going when every fibre of my being wanted to lie down and sleep for a very long time.  To give up and give in to all the constant negative feedback I received in the workplace.

I never gave up.  Partially because of an inner strength which I never knew I had.  Partially because of my counsellor who never failed to remind me of that core of inner strength and affirm her belief in me.

At the beginning of 2014, another victory on the road to recovery occurred when we stepped down the frequency from sessions once every two weeks to once every four weeks as that inner strength kicked in and I started to be able to hold my own between sessions.

I can see the faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel these days.  The day when I will be able to hold my own.

For now, though, I have to go.  Stratford awaits me.

See you tomorrow....

Post Workplace Abuse - A glimpse into life before

Once upon a time, in a land that was more or less just and fair before abuse and bullying in the workplace existed and was condoned by management and HR, there was a middle-aged couple who bought their first home which came complete with a long backyard and a fire pit.  Friends and family would gather around this couple like honey bees to pollen to enjoy the warmth (both figuratively and literally) of this couple's hospitality.  They came for the barbecues, bonfires, friends, fellowship, and good food.  They relaxed.  They talked and shared stories with one another.  They came away refreshed - and full.  The wife loved having her own home, being able to enjoy the big backyard with no superintendent yelling at them.  She loved people.  Most of all she loved feeding them.  The joke was that if you came away hungry from this couple's house, it was your own fault.  It didn't matter who you were, you were always welcome at this couple's fireplace - even if you weren't expected.  Or were a child passing through on their way home from playing with friends.  There was always enough to go around.  Both food and love.

And Then Things Changed

Reality.  

Reality in the form of bullying aka abuse aka psychological harassment aka small "h" harassment in the workplace raised it's ugly head.

Life was no longer fair or just.  It became a long, tiring journey through a mine field which the wife did not recognize and could not see.

For four years, the wife fought against the ever escalating situation in her workplace. 

She tried everything she knew to do.  

She worked on her issues with a competent (also amazing) therapist.  She grew emotionally (unfortunately not physically - I guess the poor soul will always be 5 foot nada - unless she shrinks with old age).  

She learned good coping techniques. She "reinvented" not only herself but also her relationships with those closest to her i.e. her husband, her children, etc.  She became happier and healthier emotionally than she'd ever be in her life.  In short, despite the situation in her workplace, she was thriving.

Which turned out to be a bad thing.

Why?

Because bullying is not about the target.  It's all about the bullies.  It's about how they perceive life, how they think, how they feel, how they interpret things.

It's about their own short comings and insecurities.  They target people who are good, competent people.  Who are well-liked by their co-workers.

Their goal is to make that person as unhappy and miserable as themselves.

Their goal is not to change, but to keep the status quo.

To see their target continually grow and even be happy in the workplace, to come into work with a smile on her face even in the worst of times, was probably galling in the extreme to these people.  In short, instead of a good thing, it became one more log in the fireplace of animosity and conflict.

The toll these things - the stress, the uncertainty - took on me were enormous.

Those gatherings in our backyard became impossible.

I was no longer capable of planning and preparing food.  

People scared me.

An open venue such as our backyard fire pit left me feeling exposed and vulnerable - even among friendly people like my family.

So today in this blog, we celebrate another victory, another milestone, on the road to recovery.

This past Saturday, I instigated a neighbourhood barbecue to introduce some new neighbours in the "hood" to the older, established ones.  A first on my road to recovery as any outdoor events in recent memory have been spontaneous affairs usually instigated by my daughter and son-in-love.  Casual affairs.  Any food either brought in by them or purchased at the store.  Son-in-love took over the grilling as I wasn't capable of doing that any more.

So even wanting to have a barbecue, even wanting to invite the neighbours, even wanting to go beyond my comfort zone and push the limits was a victory.

I knew I couldn't do it by myself.  I knew I still was not completely capable of planning and preparing, let alone carrying through and socializing any event, so I enlisted the help of my next door neighbours who know my story.  Who are aware of some of my challenges ... and victories.  Who cheer me on with smiles, waves and words of encouragement when we meet outside.

Together we pulled it off.  Together we did it.

Another milestone on the road to recovery

Hmmm.  

Now what can I think of next?

Pushing the limits is both challenging and exciting.  I get excited when I accomplish something new that I couldn't do the year before.  Yet, I still cope with differing affects.  My speech and cognitive skills are still affected.  As well, the incredible fatigue which tends to set in after a victory and seems to get worse for a period of time instead of better.

I still have to count the costs and realize that for each victory, there very well may be a set back in the physical realm.

Yet, I'm willing to take that chance.  I'm ready ... and willing ... to push the envelope.  To see where life goes on this continuing journey of recovery after workplace abuse.

Until tomorrow....

P.S. - Kudos to my neighbours.

Post Workplace Abuse: Everyday victories on the road to recovery

Today.  Friday, the 20th of June, 2014.  The day before the summer solstice.  I wake up tired.  Not really wanting to face the day.

Or write another blog.  My fifth consecutive this week.  Another small victory in my journey post trauma, post workplace abuse, post PTSD.

But let's sidestep that for the moment.

As my mind slowly - and rather unwillingly I might add - came to consciousness today, I was thinking of this past week.  Of the small things which most people take for granted.   Which are no big deal for them.

The dailyness.

So today, I decided to write about the everyday victories.  The ones that most people take for granted.

This week, I made a meal every day.  I was able to think, plan and prepare an evening meal every day this week.

What!?! you might think.  I do this every day.  I don't consider it a victory.

But look at it for a moment - or at least for the duration of this blog post - from a completely different perspective.

For those of us working through the devastation, the aftermath of trauma - which workplace abuse is - even being able to do simple everyday activities is a struggle.

Many years ago, during the reign of Ho Chi Ming in China, I read an article by a journalist who was enthusiastically being shown how great the Chinese leader was and how much life had been improved during his leadership by a group of villagers.  They proudly showed this journalist their hospital.  The journalist was appalled as it was very rudimentary and he commented, if this is after what was before?

If this is after in my life, what was before?

If being able to cook dinner every day for five consecutive days is a victory, a success after workplace abuse, after trauma, what was during?

If being able to write a blog for five consecutive days is after.  What was during?

So today I concentrate on and share with you the daily victories that have occurred this week.  The things that make life good on a daily basis.

I made a loaf of bread in my breadmaker this week.  Not a usual occurrence any more because I have to look through my recipe books and choose a recipe which I have the ingredients on hand for. Next,  I have to go to our storage room in the basement and lug up the breadmaker.  I also have to lug up the flour from same storage room.  All of these things take thought.  Cognitive skills.  To be able to read and follow the recipe.  To lay out the ingredients.

Throw in a dash - or more - of lagging energy into the mix and you have a general idea of the uphill battle (literally in the form of the basement stairs) this one small activity involves.

Inhaling the yeasty small of the bread as it rose, made me feel like a David who had just conquered his Goliath.

I went to the Farmers Market yesterday with hubby, even though my energy levels were still very low after the Writers Conference last weekend.  I went with a purpose - to buy vegetables to make salads for us.

I also went with the purpose to continue taking control of my life by doing things I used to do on a regular weekly basis and thought nothing about.  And what better way to do this then to go to the market and mingle with the vendors - and other assorted people who are there.  This is taxing for me as as the season progresses, the crowds multiply.  Especially in the indoors market.  I have to closely monitor my "inside" feelings i.e. anxiety, hypervigilence.  Sometimes, I have to tell myself that it's OK.  These are simply people.  They don't know me.  They're not going to hurt me - at least not intentionally.  I have to do with all sorts of emotions and reactions, that I never had to deal with pre workplace abuse.  It is both taxing and tiring.  But again, after all is said and done, I feel like I have conquered another giant in my life.

My garden.  Or rather what I call "Mom's garden" - the one I'm creating in her memory as she loved flowers and taught me everything I know.  Literally.  In more ways than one.

No, I didn't have the energy to get out the old Japanese Farmer's knife this week  and tackle the weeds, but I did take daily walks to the very back of the yard - over 200 feet and counting - and let the beauty of the newly blooming flowers sink in and create peace in my soul.

I got out my knitting needles - the double pointed ones at that! - and knit - count 'em ... one ... two .... three ... four! - yes four coffee cozies which I hope to be the basis for upcoming craft tables in the fall.

You might wonder what the victory is in that since I knit and/or crochet - or both - routinely as part of my right brain therapy.

What you don't know is that there are not only days - but periods of time - when I'm so sunk in lethargy that I cannot think ahead to choose a project.  Nothing excites me.  The hands, the needles, the yarn.  They all lie idle.  Even recently.  To create, to have a purpose in that creation ... that is another victory.

These and more - things you can't catch in the lens of the camera - all make up the seemingly small, every day victories that made up this week.

And, as I push the button to publish this post, another everyday, seemingly small, victory occurs.  That of another post.

I am content.

Life ... while not perfect ... is good.

Note:  I don't post on the weekends.  Even - and perhaps especially - with all the victories happening in my life, I need rest.  Downtime to stop doing and just be.

See you on Monday with more of the story.

Post Workplace Abuse: After Victory comes the Need to Rest

My sister-in-love  makes quilts.  Like me with crochet and knit, this is what she does and how she blesses people.
In May, she and a friend gifted me with this quilt made especially for me.  Each white section of each square has the name of one of the ladies from their church group and a Bible verse especially for me.  I rest under it feeling nestled in love.

Today.

Mid point (kind of) in the week.  (Because actually for all intents and purposes Wednesday is called "hump day" - not Thursday.)  But I figure I can get away with calling it the mid-point since what I experienced happened on Wednesday even though I'm writing on Thursday.  

Yesterday was a low point for me as the thrill of the victory of the weekend receded into the past and the physical reality of exhaustion sunk in.

Yet, I know from experience that this bone-sucking tiredness is part and parcel of the processor recovery from trauma as the body reacts ... or is it responds? ... to whatever stress I've put it through.  Whether the stress is good as in the Writers Conference or bad as in something negative happening or just so-so as in overdoing with exercise, my body will at some point in time at its own choosing respond.

Physical.  Mental.  Emotional.  Spiritual.  All are in this together.  It always seems that Physical - which I put first - has the last word.  It always gives me a delayed reaction on its view of things.

So it is now.

*******

But aha! physical.  I fooled you!  I expected you to show up to the party sooner or later.  I knew you would come.  And I was ready mentally, emotionally and spiritually for your appearance.

I have become so familiar with you during this sojourn since you started to rear your head in the fall of 2011 and demand my entire attention, that I know both approximately when and how you will show up after the party.

Knowing this.  I no longer fear you.

I no longer fight you.

I'm not sure I exactly welcome you, but I accept you for what you are.

The voice of reason in a sense.

The voice that says, you have to slow down, Cassie.  You've done enough for one day.  It's time to rest and regroup.  It's time to refresh and recharge.  It's time to stop doing and start being.

*******

So, I've learned to listen to my body.  To obey it when it says "stop".

Of course, I have to admit that sometimes it says "stop" in rather demanding, uncompromising ways much as a police officer in front of your car with his hand up.  Impossible to ignore.  To defy, yes.  To ignore, no.

As defying a police officer comes with unpleasant consequences, so does defying the physical.  Neither goes away.  They just ramp up their tactics to get your attention.

I've learned it's easier to acquiesce to the physical rather than defy it.

Befriend it, so to speak.  Make it my ally rather than my adversary on the journey to wholeness.

******

Yesterday was one of those times.  My energy sank like a stone to my toes, it seemed.  No matter that the young lady I euphemistically call the cleaning lady, because she is so much more than that, was at my house for her weekly ministrations.  No matter that I had grocery shopping to do.  No matter what my plans were, my energy sank like the proverbial stone and would not be denied.

I had to rest.  I had to lie down.  I had to leave all the newly acquired books and thoughts aside.  All the to-do list.  I had to go to that "other" safe place in my life.  My bed.

*******

At a long ago writers conference, the first one I ever attended, the key note speaker whose name I have long since forgotten, said something I've never forgotten:  "Lean into the pain."

I've done that through this sojourn - and blogged about it.

Now, I'm learning to lean into the tiredness.  Not to fight it.  But to lean into it, to experience it, to allow it to flow over me and, eventually, succumb to sleep.

Under my special blanket (pictured at the beginning of this post) made with love, I feel sheltered.

On the back side of the quilt, I always keep this square by my head to remind me I'm loved.

See you tomorrow.  After I wake up from my nap, that is.

People: The Ultimate Challenge on the Road to Recovery from Workplace Abuse

Bonnie, the lady who made it
possible for me to attend
Write Canada 2013 and who
rejoiced with me in my victory this year.
P.S. I gifted her with the scarf this year to thank her for
her help last year.

People.

They scare me.  Whether it's one or two or a whole bunch of them at once.  They scare me.

Scratch out the word "scare".  Replace it with the word "terrify" and we get closer to the truth.  Which is why attending such events as World Wide Knit in Public Day at my local yarn store and Write Canada 2014 are such milestones on my road to recovery from workplace abuse.

A piece of background.

In January of 2012, when I was still very much in the throes of all the affects from my abusive situation in the workplace and very much struggling just to keep my head above water, I decided to try to get some (hopefully safe) socialization in the form of a book/Bible study called Moving From Fear To Freedom by Grace Fox, a Canadian author and speaker.   The leader of our group was also a writer and had apparently been to Write Canada 2011 where she met Grace  Fox.  Thus, the choice of Grace's work for our book/Bible study.

Ramona, the prayer warrior who
prayed me through Write Canada 2013
and looked out for me during this
year's conference.  I felt safe around her

As I've noted in previous posts, I'd been confronting my fears during phase 1 of my recovery process, before the rubber hit the road in the workplace of abuse.  I had confronted fears of heights, open stairways such as observations towers and closed in spaces such as elevators.  So, I thought I didn't have any fears to work on or confront.  I was just attending to try to get out more.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

About not having any more fears to work on.

It took me several weeks to realize why I was feeling such heightened anxiety at even the thought of going.

I was terrified of these people because I had deep-seated fears of being rejected.  Which is not surprising when you realize that rejection was at the core of both of my abusive workplace situations.

Heidi, the bookstore manager - or something like that.
Also dubbed the chicken lady as she and her husband own
a poultry farm and she has fantastic chicken jokes to liven
up the sessions.
Between the two of us we make up the long and short of it.

During the course of that study, I learned that these were people just like me.  Many of them had the same fears that I had.  We were all in this together.

Now fast forward ahead from 2012 to Write Canada 2014.

My recovery has progressed to the point where I felt ready to face that fear head on.  I had been taking smaller steps, now I was ready for that giant leap in the form of a three-day conference.

Going to a conference like this is so different from a workplace situation.  There are common threads among the attendees which make it easier to relate to each other.

First, we are all writers.  Some published.  Some just beginning.  But we all have that one thing in common.  We all have the love of the written word in common.  These people were just like me in that respect.

Sandra Orchard, novelist, author of Deadly Devotion and
Blind Trust.  She was also a faculty member at this year's
event.  She is modelling another one of my scarves.

Second, most of us are Christians - of one variety of another.  Just like me.

Third, most of us are Canadians.  Just like me.

Then there's the creativity which moves us to write - and also express ourselves in other forms of creative expression such as knitting, photography, etc.  Just like me.

Most of all, we're just people who are on our own roads.  On our journeys through life's difficulties.  Just like me.

When you look at it through that lens in the camera of life, these people don't look so scary after all, do they?

They're Just. Like. Me.

And probably you too.

Warts and all.

More tomorrow.

I hope you have enjoying this blog and getting something worthwhile from it.  I appreciate your comments and thoughts as I continue on these journeys ... blogging and recovery.

May God bless you richly as you walk your own journey on this path of life.

Write Canada 2014: An adventure on the road to recovery from Workplace Abuse

Write Canada 2014.

I cane.  I saw.  I stayed.

I pushed my limits ... and had a whale of a time.

I reconnected with people I'd met in 2013 ... and made new friends.

I took pictures ... and gave away home made gifts to those I had connected with last year and others I met this year.

I came with business cards listing my blog ... and handed them out unashamedly.

I told people unashamedly and boldly what my platform is:  workplace abuse.

I told my fellow writers and attendees about my blog.  I was not ashamed that I'm with all these people who have written books, published books and/or are editors and article writers.

I. Am. A. Blogger.  Maybe in the future I'll expand.  But for right now I. Am. A. Blogger. on the way to recovery.

I learned that I'm not exactly a Christian writer.  I'm a Christian who writes.  There's a difference.

I picked up some really good nuggets unexpectedly - including the one above.

I came away tired both mentally and physically.  OK, OK, let's make that exhausted as my bed and I have been best buds since I got home.  But hey! it's a good tired.  A good exhaustion.  Because it means that I did something challenging on the road to recovery.  Healing occurred.

I came away with hope.

Hope that I can build this blog into something more.

I came away with the realization that I not only have a story to tell but that it's everybody's story.

My story is the story of everyone who has gone through workplace abuse.  Yes, there are differences in the specifics, but there is a common thread between my story and your story.  Or the story of the loved one you are trying to navigate this journey with.

Add caption

We are all travellers on the same journey.  We just take different side trips and have different means of getting there.

Note:  This is not the blog I intended to write today.  That posting in its infancy ended up being cut and pasted onto a new blog.  I'm sure it will see the light of day sometime ... even probably sometime soon.  But for now, I wanted to reinforce the victory of this experience.  The positive.  Forget the prose.  Forget the background.  

Experience the present.

That is what I did this past weekend at Write Canada 2014.

See you tomorrow for more of the story.

Following Up: Victory on the Road to Recovery from Workplace AbuseThis si

The scene of the crime ... er ... I mean conference:  Guelph Bible Conference Centre.  A gem hidden away smack dab in the middle of Guelph, Ontario.  Bordered on one side by Waterloo Street and on the other three sides by houses.

A small oasis of peace in the busyness of the city of Guelph.

When you're there, you feel like you're sheltered.  Like the world doesn't exist.  Like the big, bad world is way, far away and cannot come in.

Or at least it felt like that to me.

A pilgrim on the road to recovery.

Funny, I should word it that way.  On the road to recovery.  Instead of "on the road to a writing career".  After all, that is what the conference is all about:  writing.  

Not recovery.

But for me, overcoming my fears, getting out in public, facing the big, bad, wide world alone.  That is the intention - at least for now.  That is the victory.

The writing will come, I believe.  Once the recovery comes.

The first thing I saw when I wandered around the book store set up in the gym of the facility, was this bowl.  Welcome Friends.  I felt a warm fuzzy seeing it.  I felt welcomed.  I felt like I was among friends.  Old friends.

In my last blog, I wrote about my first writers conference in 2013 where I went with my niece.

This year, I felt well enough to try it alone.  To go out into the big, bad world by myself.

Yes, I did have a plan A, B and C.

Plan A:  to go to all the workshops, continuing classes, meals, etc. and live life as a "normal" person.

Plan B:  to hide in my room and take a nap or naps if necessary.  (I even brought a small knitting project along just in case it became necessary to hide behind my right brain therapy.)

Plan C:  to call hubby and get the hell out of dodge if it just became too overwhelming and the affects such as stuttering, extreme fatigue, inability to speak, lack of balance, shortness of breath, etc. started to rear their ugly heads.

I am pleased to announce that I kept with Plan A.

Yes!

I made it to each and every workshop and continuing class.  I even spoke up a few times in class.  And I didn't have to resort to right brain therapy.  Not even once.

I felt safe.

This cornerstone on the building which houses the chapel at the GBCG, says it all.

I know this posting is short, but here is where I will end for today.

Why?

For one, my mind is still busy processing all the stimuli from three busy, packed days.

For two, I'm tired.  Victories are great, but even super women get tired ... sometimes ... and need to rest and refresh.

For three, I'm peopled and socialized out.  Time to regroup for a few short hours.

So tomorrow, I will (probably) continue with this amazing victory on the road to recovery.

Until then ....