Surviving Workplace Abuse: My leaving story - part 3: When bullies take control

I

I often told my supervisor in the period while the bullying was escalating and retaliation, undetected by management and HR, was becoming the norm in my workplace that I felt tlike I was being judged under Mexican law rather than Canadian or American law.  The difference is that in the U.S. and Canada, a person is considered innocent until proven guilty.  Under the Mexican system, the reverse is true:  a person is considered guilty until proven innocent.  The difference is in the burden of proof.  In the U.S. and Canadian systems, the burden of proof of guilt is on the legal system.  In the Mexican system, the burden of proof of innocence in laid squarely on the shoulders of the individual.  In the system I was in, I was never given the opportunity to prove my innocence.  I was simply presumed guilty of ... whatever.

There is no more revealing evidence of this occurring than when I signed a legally binding agreement to resign based on a "complaint" by co-workers in a local doughnut shop with only the union representative present while still on sick leave.

*******

Sitting at the table in the doughnut shop, I had no idea what was to come.  I was naive. I was complacent in my innocence.  I knew I was being bullied.  I knew too I was covered under Ontario's Bill 168, the Occupational Health and Safety Amendment Act (Violence and Harassment in the Workplace), which went into effect June 15th, 2010.

According to this piece of legislation, I had the right to be free of harassment in the workplace.  Bill 168's definition of workplace harassment is as follows:  “workplace harassment” means engaging in a course of vexatious comment or conduct against a worker in a workplace that is known or ought reasonably to be known to be unwelcome.

This same bill also protects the worker against violence in the workplace.

I was still in the "let's get the union rep on the same page re: workplace bullying as I am," frame of mine when the union rep came back with the coffee, sat down and said that the co-workers had submitted their own complaint.

My first reaction was one of bemusement.  I was confused and bewildered.  I honestly did not take the significance of this new turn of events seriously - at first.  It was not until much later, months after everything was said and done, that I realized the seriousness of the impact of this alleged complaint and its ramifications.

Since I was still actively working on getting the union rep to understand what bullying was all about, I could not comprehend (a) what these people had to complain about me and (b) that those in high places in the company could take this seriously.

I was wrong on both counts.  They took it very seriously.  Seriously enough to craft a legal document in which I agreed to resign.

All I wanted at that point was to survive - and get out.  I also wanted some financial lifeline to hold onto as I wasn't expecting to leave the workforce quite so soon or under such circumstances.  I still have a bit more than three years to go before I hit that "magic" age of 65 and could receive CPP.

I was then shown the "complaint".

It began with the wording "we the undersigned" and proceeded to make a number of unsubstantiated, unverified allegations.

The main basis of the "complaint" was that they had the "right to a stress free workplace".  It was followed by a rambling paragraph making a slew of allegations.  Looking back, the "complaint" was akin to how I make soup: throwing in everything I can think of that will add to the flavour of the soup that is available to me at that time.

These people threw in everything but the proverbial kitchen sink.  If an action or statement, could be twisted to be interpreted as being wrong or causing them stress, it was.

Noticeably absent, were any specific incidents or statements on my part such as "on such and such a date at such and such a time, Suzanne did such and such."  Nothing definitive.  Just a bunch of broad-based allegations allegedly seen by eight people on all three shifts in our small office plus one who didn't even work in my department.

In the third to last paragraph, I was accused of being confrontative, verbally abusive, going to HR and management on perceptions and assumptions and putting things on Facebook.

The second to last paragraph politely asked the recipient of the "complaint" i.e. management and HR to resolve the issue.

The last paragraph though was the doozy.  It expressed the perception that these workers were afraid of me and that they believed I presented a valid threat to their safely in the workplace i.e. that I could become violent.

Oh God, this is so hard to write.  Even after three years, it brings it all back.

Going back to Bill 168, it not only protects the worker from workplace harassment but also from violence and/or the threat of violence in the workplace.  Bill 168's definition of workplace violence is as follows:

1. the exercise of physical force by a person against a worker, in a workplace, that
causes or could cause physical injury to the worker,
2. an attempt to exercise physical force against a worker in a workplace that could
cause physical injury to the worker,
3. a statement or behaviour that is reasonable for a worker to interpret as a threat to
exercise physical force against the worker, in a workplace, that could cause physical
injury to the worker. 

Because I know that I'm not a violent person and that I had done everything possible to work on recovery, to resolve the situation with these co-workers, to be non-threatening in any way, shape or form and that except for those five shifts, I hadn't even been there in something like two months, I didn't take this "complaint" seriously.  I guess I figured that if I knew that I wasn't the person portrayed in that piece of paper, that management and HR should know that too.  From where I was sitting, to me, this complaint was proof that these people were bullying me.  To me, HR and management had the proof in their hands that what I had been saying all along was true.

Apparently, HR and management did not see it that way. 

Seeing those signatures undid me.  Especially the last one.  Someone I had done nothing to.  Someone I didn't even know was involved in the mess.  I was devastated.  Distraught.  I dissolved in tears.

Significantly absent was the signature of the trainee whose refusal to allow me to train her had precipitated the second stress breakdown.

How did all these people get involved?  To the best of my knowledge, I hadn't done anything to them.

I had realized for quite a while that every time I was away either off sick, for a holiday or whatever, that when I came back it seemed that one more person was avoiding me.  Refusing to talk to me.  To look at me.  I was increasingly becoming systematically more and more isolated in the office until at the end I was, for all practical intents and purposes, totally isolated from the others in the work environment.  I sat in my corner of the office and stared at the wall when not busy with work-related activities.  While they talked among themselves, I listened to my iPod which my manager had given me permission to have.  I initiated no conversations with any of them unless it was work-related.  I ate my supper alone.  If they went out and brought back coffee from a local coffee shop off grounds, I went to the other, larger office where the managers had their office and made myself a cup of instant.  I often felt so isolated in the workplace that when someone from a different part of the plant came to my window and asked a question, I would pantomime the response.  I had to remind myself when leaving for the day that it was OK to talk now.   When was there an opportunity for me to verbally threaten these people many of whom were head and shoulders bigger than I am?  When?

I had learned many coping techniques and was dealing with the total isolation until....

Until ... these co-workers began running to management who immediately reported anything reported to them to HR.  It didn't matter what.  Saying hello to a co-worker.  Telling a co-worker who was standing in the middle of the room waving her arms that she had hurt me.    Every mistake I made, no matter how minor, was immediately reported to my manager who began a file on me.  Getting called into my supervisor's office became commonplace.  I was threatened with discipline routinely.  You wanna talk about stress?  I was under a brutal amount of stress, and still finding ways to deal with it and cope. 

Through my tears, I read the document twice.  Through my tears, I heard the union representative read the legally binding agreement which would end my relationship with the company, ending six years of employment.  Also effectively ending my working life.  Something I didn't know at the time.

It all seemed so unreal.  I think I was in a state of shock.

I still didn't understand the seriousness of the situation as, from my perspective, the union rep was holding in his hands concrete proof that I was actively being bullied by these co-workers.  I was still working on getting him to understand that.

In fact, he had once said after an international convention of local union officials held in the United States in which he was supposed to talk to officials in the large union we were affiliated with, not our little shop union, that the consensus of opinion was that it was in the best interests of the employer that I be totally separated from them.

He told me that if I did not sign that agreement, I would have to return to work when my six weeks of disability ended.  I was hoping that my disability would be extended as I knew that I was not ready to go back to work yet.  I still hadn't reached where I had been when I came back to work the first time.  I could not read or follow recipes which contained more than three or four ingredients.  I could not talk without a severe stutter.  There was more, much more.  I just can't remember them all at this time.

According to the binding union agreement, I was entitled to 52 weeks of short-term disability.  I had used 10, so I had 42 more potentially.  

At this point, I was hanging on to the hope that the specialist who I was to see just before my six weeks off was over would sign me off for additional time off.

I knew that I was not well enough, not strong enough, to return to that environment.  I felt that if was forced to return to the situation as it was in the current state I was in that I would likely commit suicide.  I'd worked too hard, too long, to stay alive, to heal, to recover, to want to put myself in that position now.  

At this point, I'm not I really understood what was happening at that doughnut shop.  First off, I had no idea a "complaint" had been made against me.  I was never advised of any complaint or investigation into one and, therefore, was not involved in any investigation.  I felt like I'd been hit in the gut without warning. 

I never saw this coming.

I did have the presence of mind to ask the union representative about an investigation and was told that since I wasn't planning on returning anyway, there wasn't any reason for one.

?

If there was one, I was never made aware of it or involved in it.

Mexican justice at its worst.

At that point the only thing I think I really understood is that I was in a fight for my life (i.e. suicide) and that going back with probably sign my death warrant.

I was not given the opportunity to take the paperwork home and think about it.  Or to take it to a lawyer.

I felt that I had to sign then and there.

With tears still streaming down my face, devastated and distraught, I signed while the union representative looked at me dispassionately like one would look at a lesser life form, an insect for example..

After signing, I asked for a copy of the "complaint".  He denied my request.

It was only later, as I analyzed everything that I realized just how thoroughly I had been played.

*******

Not only does this posting opens up a Pandora's box of significant issues regarding what constitutes a valid complaint, company polities regarding such complaints and their investigation, etc., but it also brings back all the memories.

It brings back the helplessness I experienced not only during the entire four year episode but especially that day in the doughnut shop with only the union representative in attendance.  No HR in attendance.  No friend to intervene.  I was alone.  With the union representative, the "complaint" in front of me, starring at the company's resolution to the issue.  Alone.  Distraught. Devastated.

I've tried to recount what happened that day as objectively as I can.  Facts only.  Leaving out my opinions, perceptions, assumptions.  Those will come in later posts.

For now, I'm exhausted emotionally.  It's time to draw back - at least for a few hours - to re-center myself.  To remind myself that fair or unfair, it's over.

There is never a delete button in life.  What's done is done.  We can only go forward from here.

We just have to find the courage to do so.

Until tomorrow....

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Surviving Workplace Abuse: Why leaving an abusive workplace without further injury is difficult - part 2 of the continuing story

The wake of a motor boat going faster than it should in a narrow area threatened to swamp and capsize our little canoe

We ventured out in a canoe onto what is called Nature's Playground:  the 30,000 island area near Parry Sound, Ontario on Georgian Bay.  We made the mistake of putting our little, tipsy canoe into the water on Labour Day, a day when many people are out on the lakes in their pleasure craft enjoying the last holiday of summer.  We also made the mistake of putting in at a narrows where there's only so much space for the wake of a motorized boat to go.  We tried to protect ourselves by paddling into a little cove.  It turned out to be not the best idea we've ever had.  We had rocks in front of us and a rock wall behind.  We had boats coming from three different directions.  Every time one of them passed, the wake from it would come at us and threaten to capsize us.  Trying to get out of this cove turned out to be problematic too.  There was just too much traffic going too fast and not able to see us.  Finally, hubby said "Now!" and we paddled as fast as we could out of that cove and across the open water of the inlet to the far side.  Ever tried to outrace a motor boat when you're paddling a canoe?  Try it sometime.  If you want to get your adrenaline up.

Being caught up in workplace bullying is similar to being stuck in that cove.  It's not a safe place to be.  There are currents which threaten to swamp the target.  And it's a hard place to escape from.

*******

As far as I was concerned, my co-workers had won not just the battle, but the war.

As far as I was concerned:  it was over.  I had failed.  I was giving up in defeat.  Bruised and "bloodied" (emotionally) from the battle.  I'd gone as far as I could, and there was no longer anything left to give.

All I could do now was focus on surviving my psychiatric injuries and figuring out where to go from here.

However, the question arises:  were they i.e. the adversaries aware of that?

I cannot emphasize strongly enough that after I left work that final time not knowing that I was in the beginnings of a second stress breakdown from my trainee's behaviour, not knowing that I would never enter that building - or any building in the compound for that matter - again, there was not any direct - or as for as I know indirect - communication with those who were "on the other side".  The adversaries.  They had no way of knowing anything about the situation I was in, the decisions I was making to leave the workplace.  Nothing.

I did have some decent relationships with some of the other employees, those who chose to stay out of the situation, but I chose not to contact any of those co-workers in what I now realize was a futile attempt to protect myself from the bullies.

After my supervisor inquired about whether or not I wanted to continue with the scheduled meeting, step 1 of the grievance procedure and I responded in the negative, I had no further communication with her or anyone else in management or HR at that company at all.

According to the company's policy on sick leave, the manager was supposed to be in communication with the worker every two weeks, I believe, to see how the worker was progressing and when he/she might be expected to return to work.

That never happened.

However, a union representative called me out of the blue one day shortly after my last communication with the supervisor.  I didn't expect it, yet I welcomed it thinking that finally there was someone there to support me.  To represent me.  As it had become apparent in the journey that the high-ranking union rep in our work area had become aligned with the adversaries.

Assumptions and perceptions on my part.  Or should I say:  misperceptions.

I have to assume that he had to have been told something by someone as since we had never met or had any communication with each other, that was the other way he would have contacted me.  If someone had told him to.  Other than osmosis, of course.  (I'm not a big fan of osmosis.)

I went into my usual pattern of trying to inform him about workplace bullying, what it is, how my story fits into the perception of workplace abuse.

I feel now, in retrospect and in light of further events, that I wasted my breath, my time and my energy.

My psychiatrist had given me six weeks off and then he was going to evaluation me further to see if I needed more time off, more separation, from the workplace in order to recover.  About two weeks before that six seek period was up, the union rep called me and wanted to meet.  I was on my way to the chiropractor's due to some serious pain in my back.  I couldn't drive, so he offered to drive me.  I didn't see any harm in that.  My antennae weren't warning me of any danger, so I accepted the offer.

Beware of union reps who appear out of the blue and offer rides.  They're as much to be aware, and wary, of as HR people - and bullies.

My problem is, I'm naive.  I was naive with management.  I was naive with HR.  I was naive with the union rep.  I thought these people would realize how harmful the situation was and work to resolve it.  To protect me from bullying in the workplace.  Instead, to a man - or woman, as the case may be - each one, in turn, turned on me and went to the "other side" of the equation.

I became the problem.  I became the bully.  I was perceived in a negative light.

I didn't become aware that this union rep might have a hidden agenda until he was driving me home from the chiropractor's officer and "missed" the turn to my street.  I said something about needing to turn here.  He responded that he was taking me out for a coffee.  I still didn't clue in that something was amiss.

The entire conversation up to the point in which we entered the doughnut shop, ordered our coffees and sat down had been with me still trying to get him to understand what workplace bullying was and how the facts, the research, lined up with what I had experienced.

*******

It's time to close for today.  Ironically, the weather outside my window as I type this is stormy matching the storm swirling inside me that day in the doughnut shop.  Thunder booming outside my window.  Lightning.  Rain pouring down.  The lights flickering.  Definitely a situation to be careful of.

I wish human interactions came with such clear warning signs and signals.  But they don't.

Until Monday ....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: A Piece of My Story - Leaving the Situation - Part 1

Our lives are basically a masterpiece in the making. A gorgeous and valuable work of art.  In the tapestry of our lives are many colours depicting many different incidents - some good, some bad; some joyful like a birth or a wedding; some painful like a death or an accident ... or workplace bullying - but they are all woven together in such a way that no one individual colour or incident predominates.  Each life experience combines to make the whole.

In this picture, taken back in 2008 in Huntsville, Ontario where Tom Thompson, a well-known Canadian artist, made his home, we see a man copying one of Tom Thompson's paintings onto a huge canvas which will later be hung on a building somewhere in the city centre.  If you look closely, you will see that he's working off a photograph of the painting so that he can duplicate it as close to possible to the original piece of artwork.

Our lives are like the original painting.  Not the copy.  Our lives and experiences are unique to us.  We are a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

*******

Today I begin telling the story of my experiencing leaving the toxic workplace.  It is not an easy story to write.  There are still a lot of unresolved hurts, questions - especially the Why? question - even after more than three years or persistent recovery for which there are no answers.  Therefore, these questions taunt and torment my mind.  Writing about the experience brings up not only the memories but also the feelings associated with the memories:  anger; voicelessness; helplessness; hopelessness - and so on.  It is not a simple story, either.  Workplace bullying is complicated.  Each day a new scenario, a new challenge.  Some worse then others.  Always different.

It is also not a simple story because you have to realize that there are two sides or rather two opposing viewpoints here:  theirs and mine.

I'm not telling their story here.  Partially because it's their story; it's not mine to tell.  Partially because in reality I don't know what their story is.  I don't know why they singled me out in the first place.  I don't know why they kept it up for four years.  I don't know why they did what they did.  I only know what they did.   I don't know anything about the currents i.e. gossip going around in the office when I was not there, both before my two breakdowns and after.

I simply don't know.

Yet ...

Yet ... I have reasonable grounds based on my senses, observation and things which can be documented such as their complaint against me to my manager two days after my second stress breakdown on alleged "ethical" grounds, to form an opinion as to what might have been going on in the office when I was absent.

As I've recounted before in this blog, I had a second stress breakdown just five working days after returning to work from the first.  My family doctor didn't feel I was ready to return to work after the first one, but her hands were tied.  She could only give me two weeks off.  After that, I had to be booked off by a specialist - in this case a psychiatrist.

In our area - and in our socialized medicine set up here in Canada - it's very hard to see certain specialists in a timely manner.  I'd been on a waiting list for a consult for months - and still had months to go when I experienced the first stress breakdown.  Because I had the breakdown and went to the crisis clinic at the hospital and saw a mental health nurse, I was fast-tracked to see a psychiatrist just days later.  He spent maybe 15 minutes with me, decided I was bi-polar with mixed personality disorder and prescribed some medicine.  Personally, I didn't feel that he was able to make an accurate assessment in such a short amount of time.  I was not satisfied either with his diagnosis - and neither were most of the people who know me well.  I know people with bi-polar disorder i.e. manic depressive, and I don't have those symptoms.  But that was all I had.

 I was booked to see a specialist who had started a private practice the day after I returned to work and we were hoping that he would see that I was not ready to return yet.  That didn't happen.  Unfortunately, it was the same specialist I'd seen when I was fast-tracked a few weeks before.

Just five working days later, I was off again - much worse off then I had been the first time.  I was booked off for six weeks this time.  Six weeks in which the specialist was hoping that medication and time would do their healing thing.

It might have worked ... IF ....

As I've already recounted, my workplace was calling me at home due to the other side's getting on my Facebook, not liking what they saw and then going to management with their allegations that I had violated ethical issues with that post.

In those five working days between stress breakdowns, I had contacted management and asked what they were doing to protect me from frivolous complaints in the workplace - which was causing undue stress and illness.  Management refused to talk to me.  The Union representative said she would file a grievance for me.

When we met, we met in the open cafeteria just outside the office I worked in - plainly visible to everyone who might have a vested interest in what was happening.  According to this union representative, I could only file a grievance based on what was in the binding union contract i.e. safety from psychological harassment i.e. bullying was not in the contract so, therefore, I could not file a grievance on those grounds.  The grievance ended up being based on harassment.  I was not allowed to give any details, names, etc.  It was just a very general grievance citing harassment.  No details at all.

I vaguely remember one of the co-workers who was involved in the incidents standing behind me unmoving while this was going on.  The union representative didn't say anything, so I didn't either.

I was too afraid of this particular co-worker to say anything.  I continually felt as though I was walking on eggshells around this person.

In light of things that happened afterwards while I was absent from the workplace not intending to return, I wonder ....  What was she doing there?  Was she deliberately listening in?

A meeting was scheduled to discuss this grievance; however, before it could happen I had the second stress breakdown.  I did receive an email from my manager asking me if I wanted to pursue this meeting.  I replied that I was way too ill i.e. too fragile and vulnerable, to pursue it at that time.  I also reminded the supervisor - again - in writing that I was off sick in order to recover and asked her to respect that.

The next thing I knew, another union official (when I talk about the union I'm talking about our shop union, not the bigger union we were affiliated with), contacted me out of the blue.  I was a bit wary as I knew that this union official and the one in our work area were related.  You never know how much cross communication there is - or isn't - between relatives.

At this point, as far as I was concerned I was making the decision that returning to that work environment was definitely not in my best interests.  At that time, I was trying to figure out how to leave.  It never occurred to me to just write a letter to HR saying in effect "I quit".  I was too ill to think clearly.

My GFA (Global Functioning Assessment) was somewhere in the 60s - which appears to be the dividing line between capable and incapable.

Also, as far as I was concerned, the grievance was moot.  I was not mentally or emotionally capable of pursuing it without incurring further injury.  Besides, since I was not prepared to return to that situation, why pursue it?  As far as I was concerned, these people had won.

The problem was that these people don't appear to have been aware that they had won.

*******

This appears to be a good stopping place for today.

Two sides.  Two viewpoints.  Neither one in communication with the other.

A situation ripe for gossip, innuendo, etc.

I don't know what was happening in the office, but every one of my senses was on high alert after the phone call about the "ethics" violation.

I hoped that things were calming down in the office and that they would savour their victory and allow me to fade away in peace.

BUT ....

A statue of Tom Thompson.  In the background, a reproduction of one of is paintings hung on a building in Huntsville, Ontario.

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 ....

Surviving Working Abuse: Another slice of recovery on the journey

The Observation Tower in Parry Sound

I've written before about milestones, markers along the path of recovery.  The structure above, the Parry Sound Observation Tower originally a fire tower build in the early 1900's, is one such marker along my path to recovery.

The first time we visited Parry Sound in 2006, hubby was fascinated with this tower and, of course, had to climb up.  Just looking at it sent waves of panic cascading along the neural routes of my body.  I felt fear in my legs, my stomach.  There was no way I was even going to think of it.  At that time.

I actually thought at that time that at no time would I ever think of climbing that tower, but eventually I came to a point in my recovery when I felt ready to take on and overcome my fears.

I remember the first time, I tried.  I bounded up it alone - and made it up two flights before the fear took over.  There was no way I could go up any further.  I was paralyzed by fear.  Unable to go up - or down.  I was stuck.

Hubby came up and rescued me.  Took my hand.  Helped me down.

However, my analytical took over and I decided to try it again.  The next time we went to Parry Sound, I was determined to try it again - and this time to conquer my fear.

You see, the tower is just a structure.  There's really nothing it can do to me.  There's really nothing to fear about it - except fear itself.

At the first or second landing on the way up this time around.  Beautiful view, eh?

The first time, I hung on tightly to hubby's hand.  He was my anchor, my lifeline, my parachute all wrapped into one steady package.

It was as much a test of faith in my hubby as it was conquering my fears.

As I went up the structure, fearsome step by fearsome step, I encouraged myself by saying "There's nothing to fear except fear itself" and "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13).  Hubby encouraged me all the way.  When I would cry out and say, "I can't."  He would calmly say:  "You can."

He encouraged me that first time to stop at each landing and take pictures.  Not to rush.  To take it slowly one step at a time with him constantly at my side encouraging me onwards and upwards.

There were other people walking up and down the tower steps that day.  One particular duo has always stuck in my mind.  These two ladies were using the tower as their personal stepmaster - racing up, then down, then up again.  I cannot recall how many times these ladies passed us in both directions.  I envied them.  Both their fitness and their ability to go up and down those steps like it was nothing.  No fear.

As they passed us multiple times in both directions, we developed a bit of a camaraderie.  Another component to my personal cheerleading squad.

Man, I wished I was like those two ladies.

Overlooking the harbour area

Others passed us on that maiden voyage, both going up and going down.  It was pretty obvious (the understatement of the year) to everyone that passed us that I was terrified but determined to go up.  Each one who passed us gave me a bit of encouragement.

From the top, the former marine research vessel we saw at ground level the day before.  Behind it the Island Queen 30,000 island tour vessel

Eventually - or should I say finally - we reached the top!  It was a huge victory moment in my life.  A moment to be savoured - and photographed for posterity because I was sure that no one who knew me would ever believe I had done it if there weren't pictures to prove it.

But I'm not one to stop there.  I wanted to thoroughly and completely conquer the fear.  So, we went up it again.  Not that trip.  But the next.  Each time we come to Parry Sound, going up the Observation Tower became a priority.  A marker in my journey of recovery.

Each time has gotten slightly easier.  Slightly less fear.  Needing less encouragement.  I've done it before, I can do it again.  There's nothing to fear except fear itself.

So this trip, going up the Observation Tower was a priority.  I also had an agenda.  On my last assault of an observation tower, the one earlier this summer in Tobermorey, Ontario, I realized that I didn't feel all the fear stuff that I had felt before.  I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was ready to let go of hubby's hand and try it by self.

So this time, I outlined my plan A with hubby.  We agreed that he would walk beside me to be there - just in case - but not holding my hand unless I initiated it.  I made it up the first few flights easily.  However, as we got progressively higher, I felt the challenge more and more.

He encouraged me by pointing above us to a wooden structure and saying we were almost at the top which kept me going several more flights.  However, if you look at the picture below, you will see that there is a platform around the staircase several flights below the summit of the tower.  That is as far as I got by self.  Yet, it was a victory in, and of, itself.  For the first time, I had made it up that high without aid.  It was not a defeat.  It was simply a partial victory.

At the bottom, one happy camper

The last several flights, we did it together, hand in hand.

Another victory on my road to recovery.

Surviving Workplace Abuse: an unexpected mini vacation in the midst of recovery

This vessel, now privately owned, used to be a marine research vessel.

 Good morning and happy Labour Day from Parry Sound, Ontario where hubby and I are taking a much needed mini vacation.

Recovery, for me, is very hard work.  As it is for everyone who truly embraces the concept and is willing to work hard for something.  Hubby is now working two jobs in order to keep our heads about water.  That's hard work too.

Worrying about how you're going to pay the bills takes a lot out of one as well.

As well, when hubby is away from me, he worries about how I'm doing.  Is someone going to do or say something harmful?

For me, I find this summer has been a continual experience of pushing the envelope and seeing how far I can go.  The CN Tower.  That day of firsts in Toronto.  Talking to my new neighbour.  Getting outside the house and taking walks.

They all take their tole.

I discovered that even talking with my neighbour for approximately 15 minutes earlier this summer took a toll on me.  I would suddenly get extremely tired.  So much so, that I would head straight to bed and sleep for the next two or so hours.

So when hubby said he unexpectedly had three days in a row off and wanted to get away, I said:  "OK".

Everyone needs a break.  Or else they will break.

We've come to a place that is familiar to us.  A place where there's lots of water as it's on Georgian Bay (sometimes referred to as the sixth Great Lake).  A place where we feel comfortable and can indulge in our interests and passions:  canoeing, photography, enjoying nature.

I've found that feeling comfortable in a place post workplace abuse, trauma, PTSD, etc. is helpful.

At one point in my journey, I was so afraid of running into those various former co-workers that I would hesitate to go anywhere.  Poking my nose outside my house was scary.  Powered by fear of what these people might conceivably do.

Then, my analytical brain took over and I realized that many of the things I was interested in doing and many of the places I would go were not things these people would enjoy.  My interests were so different from theirs - and vice versa.

I think, in retrospect, that's what helped make the situation in the workplace so difficult.  I was very different from most of my colleagues and, therefore, harder to find a common ground with.

Unfortunately, while I did try many times to open up dialogue and find a common ground with these people, they did not.  Instead, they turned inward and formed a group within themselves based on their common interests, etc.

As time evolved, the biggest common denominator became me.  Their mutual dislike of me.

As I watched this attitude spread and the circle widen, hubby used to take me out to places like this.  Or Algonquin Park where we could canoe camp.  Get away from it all.  I called canoe camping my emotional detox.  When you're out on a lake with no distractions and minimal contact with people, you can soak in the quiet and solitude.  There's time for healing to take place.

BUT ...  no matter where I go, I can't get away from my thoughts.  They're always there.  Sometimes, they torment me.  They come up in my subconscious causing nightmares and convoluted dreams.  

 I'm still trying to work out in my mind how I want to tell the story:  the story about how my working life formally ended in a doughnut shop totally unrelated to my workplace with only the Union VP in attendance.

 Leaving in the way I did left more injury and has created many questions as I've worked through things in the past three years.

Since I was not in the workplace but was off site in a doughnut shop in a surprise (to me) meeting with only a union "official", was it even legal? is one of the questions.

 Like Pandora's Box, going into this part of the story opens up more questions and dynamics to explore.

 Yet, for the moment, I will soak in the beauty around me.  I will rest as much as possible.

 I will allow my thoughts to find an order in my mind so that when I come back from my mini vacation, I will be rested and up to the challenges ahead.

Until tomorrow ....