Post Workplace Bullying: "Moving On"

After yesterday's posting about moving on, I think I need to clarify a few things, because frankly I HATE that phrase ... passionately.  It ... and the twin phrase "letting go" ... raise my hackles and defences.

Early on, in between my two encounters with workplace bullying, when I was still very much stuck, hurting badly, not understanding what had happened to me and, more importantly, why, I would try to tell my story to others.  My story wouldn't let go of me.  I needed to talk, to verbalize about what had happened to me ... the unfairness, the injustice, etc.  I was trying desperately to make sense of something that didn't make sense.  That couldn't make sense.

I've learned since that what I was attempting to do is part of the recovery process.  According to my therapists, there are three components to the process of recovery from PTSD/Trauma:  telling the story, support, and justice.

At that point, for eighteen long months, I never got beyond the telling the story part.  Mostly because no one wanted to listen ... and listen ... and listen.  Ad nauseum.  In fact, most people only wanted to listen for about five minutes and then it was like 'time's up', you need to move on, let go, whatever.  Good bye.  I'm done.  I'm outta here.

Then they would leave, and we'd never talk again.

They totally didn't get it.

At that point, moving on or letting go were not options.  I wasn't there yet.

Some nine years after the first incident ended and three plus years after the second, I am just now getting to the place where internally I'm ready to "let go".  I still really have no clear idea of what they looks like or how to do it.  I just know that it's time to begin seriously looking into and attempting to apply the process.

Letting go is not forgiveness as I've been working on that concept since both incidents happened - with varying success.

Letting go appears to be something else entirely.

It's easier to apply if we have a clear concept of what something is and how to get there from here, but I confess I don't.

I can tell you the first time that this concept has come to me in recent weeks and that has been with the ongoing postie situation i.e. stoppage of home mail delivery.  We now have a community mailbox - which is better than nothing.  It means a forced lifestyle change though as I can no longer bend outside my front door and reach over to the mailbox to retrieve its contents.  I now how to fully equip myself and dress myself to get my mail:  socks, shoes, coat, hat, mitts, scarf and key.  Don't ever forget the key.

In one way, it has positive aspects as it forces me to go outside my house and take a short walk to the corner every day.  I get fresh air - whether I want it or not.  In other ways, it has negative aspects as I keep remembering why I am forced to do this.  Because in my mind, the postie is another person like one of the major bullies in my last experience who simply doesn't want to do her job.  Who is incompetent.  Etc.

Eventually, it came to me that I have to let go of my anger, my resentment, even my feelings about this woman I've never met - and have no desire to either.

In order to move on, I have to let go of all these negative feelings.  I have to force myself to realize that although I have taken this personally, it is not personal.  She doesn't know me - or the other residents.  It has nothing to do with me.  It is all about her.

This has not been easy as I do tend to personalize things.  Another thing I have to learn not to do.  Another part of the healing process.

No, it's not fair that one woman has all the power.  And no, it's still not easy as this person makes daily encursions into my neighbourhood five days a week to do her job.

But it's necessary.

I think this processing is what helped me to deal as quickly and as positively as I did with the bully on the bus situation.  To let go, move on, get on the bus again and have positive experiences.

The most important thing I want to convey on the twin topics of "letting go" and "moving on" is that it is necessary for the survivor to initiate the process.  Telling me too early that I "have" to do this - without giving me support and instructions - doesn't work.  A lot of the process of recovery has to do with power and control - which I expect is a topic for another posting sometime in the future.

I need to figure things out for myself - in my own time and in my own way.  My recovery works best when I am allowed to take control over it.  Those who have been faithfully supporting me have realized this.  That the best way they can help me is to support and encourage me - and give me the grace to figure things out for myself.

Those well-meaning folk who demanded I let go and move on too early, didn't realize that.  And, for that reason, they moved on and left me.  Subsequently, they're are not here to see the victories come.  They're not here to listen to the good stories.  To laugh with me.  They have no idea what they're missing out on.

Today, I stop here.

Until tomorrow....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: Moving On

I've written about a bad experience I had on a local bus recently in a posting entitled Workplace Abuse:  Learning through experiences on the road to recovery.  It was horrendous when it was happening.  Afterwards, I had strong mixed feelings.  Feelings mostly of guilt at first which slowly began to be overtaken by other, more positive feelings.  With the help of others, I began to see the experience in a different light.  I finally, for the first time, realized the impact of one lie I had internalized from both workplace bullying situations:  that being loud was wrong.  It made people "uncomfortable" and that was more important than anything else.  Believe me, I was loud on the bus that day and I'm sure the people around us felt uncomfortable.  However, I was feeling very uncomfortable as well.  In that seat.  With that man glaring at me, shoving me, judging me, condemning me.

I learned that day, that situations like that are not comfortable for anyone involved.  Neither the instigator, the target or the bystander.

That one experience has since become a pivotal experience on my road to recovery as I processed and analyzed the experience in the light of things I'm learning currently and have already learned on the journey.

For one thing, I realized that this was one experience in a life time of experiences.  One experience in a lifetime that spans six decades of riding buses.

This concept is from Jan Silvious's book Look at it This Way, which is a resource I've used on the road to recovery (and is included in my bibiography - another posting).

Silvious urges the reader to look at experiences - both good and bad - in a more realistic light:  the light that this is just one experience in a lifetime of experiences.  This one experience does not define our lives - or our value.  It does not define who we are.

While I am admittedly still struggling with applying and internalizing this concept to my experience in the workplace - especially the second workplace which lasted for four years, I am starting to realize how I can apply this concept to other, shorter incidents.  Like the one on the bus.

Taking one small step at a time on this path to fully recovery.

Concurrently, my therapist has told me that I have a tendency to personalize things that might not be meant personally - which gave me a lot to think about.  It's hard not to take the workplace incidents personally - as they were meant personally.

BUT....

But, the bus incident is in no way personal.  The man's behaviour in reality had nothing to do with me.  Who I am.  My value.  My worth.  He didn't know me.  I believe that his behaviour would have been the same for anyone in that seat - particularly if that person was a woman.  It does not define me.

Which makes this incident easier to look at from the light of being "one incident in a lifetime of experiences".

Another thing I realized almost immediately was the importance of not hibernating in my "safe" room.  That I needed to get up and go out again.  As soon as possible.  Two days after the incident, I got on the bus again - and have ridden it several times since then.

Nothing bad has happened.  In fact, I see the opposite occurring.

On one occasion, I got on a bus which was starting already to get crowded at the downtown terminal and slid into a window seat.  I put my purse beside me between the window and my body leaving the aisle seat open.  I felt a body slide into the seat beside me.  Not looking over, I moved my purse onto my lap and slid over.  Then I looked at the person, smiled, and said "this should give us more room".  It was an older man.  And yes, I did check.  No hearing aids.  It was not the same man as before.  He gave me the most beautiful smile.  Had I not gotten right back on the bus, had I let my fears metastasize and grow, had I not immediately endeavoured to let go and move on from that one bad experience. this heartwarming experience would not have happened.  I still smile thinking of it.

The same day, I got on a bus that was again already filling up at my transfer point.  There was some confusion as a person with a service dog was getting on in front of me and couldn't decide where to sit.  So I waited patiently.  A woman I assumed to be much older than myself was sitting there and I asked politely if I could sit beside her.  She gave me a warm smile and we started a conversation which lasted until her stop.  She had a rich Scottish accent. I thoroughly enjoyed just listening to the cadence of her speech.  Another good experience which would not have happened had I not decided to let go and move on.

Lastly, saving the best for last of course....

Last week, I was getting on the bus to go home.  I rarely notice who the driver is, but recently I've noticed I've had this one driver several times.  He started to automatically reach for a transfer, looked at me and then said: "You're going home, you don't need ones of these!" I asked him if he recognized me by my face, my colourful coat or my smile.  He bantered back, saying: "all three". Then he added for good measure, "You're always smiling." I had to ask him after that comment what he would do if on the rare occurrence I wasn't smiling. Quick as a wink he said: "Then I wouldn't recognize you."

I don't think I've laughed so hard in weeks.

It was a good experience.  Something positive.

Until tomorrow ....

Surviving Workplace Abuse: More Lies

I've written earlier about the place of "lies" - those things we, the targets, internalize - in both our experience in the workplace and also in our recovery.  Or rather in retarding our recovery.

I wrote earlier this eyar about the biggest lie I internalized - "perceptions" and "assumption" - and how it took a long time and a lot of work to realize those two words for what they were - lies - and then to work through them so that I no longer believed that the very way I was wired i.e. the way I thought and perceived life, was wrong.

Since I wrote that post, other lies have come up.  I mentioned one briefly in the story about the bullying (elderly) passenger on the bus the other week.  The man who demanded a seat by glaring and then started pushing and shoving me into the wall because he felt I didn't give him enough room.  No words were spoken, initially, but when it got to the pushing and shoving stage, believe me, words were spoken.  Loudly.

It was through the subsequent processing of that experience that I realized another lie I'd internalized from both of my workplace bullying experiences:  the lie that being loud is wrong.  Another lie is that standing my ground is automatically "confrontative" and, therefore, also very wrong.  In that incident, I'd done both and was condemning myself because of the lies I'd internalized.

In that post, I wrote about the power of affirmation in realizing those two lies and putting them where they belonged - in the trash - after talking with both a friend and someone at the regional transit centre.  Both felt I'd handled the situation well - even though it did become a verbal confrontation.  The transit representative took it a bit further and said that she was glad that I hadn't given in to this bully and gotten up and given him the entire seat - which was probably what he wanted.  We're guessing that he had probably gotten his way before by using these tactics.  About the verbal confrontation, she didn't seem to see it as a problem and commented that it wasn't a physical confrontation which would have been a problem.

This man was one experience in a lifetime of experiences.  One encounter, one time on one bus in a lifetime of riding buses.  (concept taken from Jan Silvious's book Look At It This Way.)

Because it is one experience in a lifetime of experiences - and a brief one at that, it is easier to put this one to rest - and get on with not only my life, but my journey towards recovery.  Even using it as a piece of the recovery.

Over the past summer another lie which I've internalized over the years raised its ugly head.  The lie that I'm. Not. Good. Enough.

The question:  Not good enough for what?

The answer:  not good enough for whoever the person is in the given situation.

And then I realized that that person is often myself.  I'm not good enough for me.

I struggle with self esteem - and have from an early age.  Even though there's been a significant amount of recovery in the journey over the years, my self-esteem seems to be as shaky as unset jello.  I seem to need constant affirmation that I am OK.  That I am worthwhile.  That I do have value.  That I am good enough.

This is a very hard lie to shake.  And one, frankly, that I am still working on because it is a deep-rooted lie based on self-esteem.

This lie rears it's ugly head many times, in many ways, as I walk through my normal routine of daily living.  It's only been recently that I've begun to recognize it for what it is.  Now to work on the why and how to get rid of it.

This lie shows up in everything I do:  my writing, knitting, crocheting, cooking, photography.  You name it, it's there.  Especially if I make a mistake - or fail to reach someone's marker.  I feel like no matter how good I am at what I do there's always someone better.

But then is that a liability?  If there's someone better, I can perhaps get advice/mentoring from them.

The reverse is also true:  there's usually someone who looks up to me as really skilled at the things I do and comes to me for advice.  On knitting and crocheting.  Etc.

I think the big problem is not that others are setting the banner too high for me but that I am setting the banner too high for myself.

I want everything I do to be perfect - and it's not.

You may have heard that when the artisans make a Persian rug, they purposefully put in a mistake because only God is perfect.  Well, I don't have to purposefully put in a mistake.  It happens naturally with me.  And it causes me to realize that I'm not perfect.  Only God is perfect.  And then it becomes OK.

*******

You're probably wondering what the two pictures above, one of a crocheted stocking in progress and one of the chart I'm attempting to follow, have to do with this post about the lie of not being good enough.

Yet, I'm so tough on myself that this is a good example.  I've had a lot of trouble reading the chart probably because of the ongoing problems with my cognitive skills.  I've crocheted, counted, ripped out, crocheted again, counted again, ripped out again sometimes once, sometimes twice before I finally figure out where the mistake is.  I've put it down a good many times, rested my poor brain (and my eyes), and then picked it up again.  Because one thing I'm not is a quitter.  That's one lie I don't have in my subconscious.

Because I set the banner so high - as in nothing less than perfection will do,  I see - and magnify in my mind - all the imperfections I see:  for one the design lists to the left.  But in the scheme of things will the seven/eight month old who receives it really care?  As he grows older, will he notice the imperfections or look at it as a treasured part of his Christmas tradition beginning at his first Christmas ever?

I choose to believe the latter.  Therefore, as soon as I publish this post, I will pick up the hook and the stocking and restart again.

Until tomorrow....

Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: This Blog

Add caption

Why do I write this blog?  Especially when it brings me back to a bad time and place?  A place I am still recovering from.  

My blog, which mirrors my recovery, is all over the map.  Not only is it irregular in topic, jumping from one topic to another, then back again, before going on to something else entirely different. Or stopping suddenly, just when it's getting interesting, and not going back? It is also irregular in posting.  For a period of time, the posts will come regularly, like clockwork, around 9 a.m. Monday to Friday.  And then suddenly miss a day - or two - or three.  Or even stop?

This is not the way to build up a regular readership.  I know that.

Yet, this blog is about recovery from workplace bullying.

Specifically, it is about my recovery from workplace bullying.

While I'm currently very much in the process of recovery.

Which is the reason it tends to be irregular at times - in both content and posting.

For me, recovery is a long-term process.  Like my counselling has been.  Especially if you realize that  for me recovery and counselling are very much intertwined.  I can't have one without the other.

My counselling allows me a chance to "debrief" what I've processed on the road to recovery.  For years, it was every two weeks.  Then earlier this year, we transitioned to every four weeks and now to every two weeks.

That in itself is a significant step on the road to recovery.  It means that I'm more and more able to handle whatever is happening in my life and need less "debriefing".  Yet, it also means that I'm processing more life incidents in between debriefings or sessions.

Which seems to mean I get tired easily.  I either take long naps in the afternoon ... or I end up going to bed early, very early, like at a time when the evening is just getting started for most people..

The processing in and of itself seems to bog me down periodically.  Lethargy ensues for periods of time.  Listlessness.

I know I'm in trouble when I don't feel like creating.

Speaking of creating, though, writing is another form of creating.  Just like the knitting and crocheting.  Except my materials are the computer, words, this blog.  

My motivation when I first started this blog was to have samples of my writing style to show prospective editors.  Which is why it's called Ramblings of a Deranged Mind.  I simply wanted something catching.  In fact, I'd had the idea of starting a blog years before I ever put one finger to keyboard.  I'd even gotten it set up on Blogger, but had never posted anything.  This was before I realized that recovery, for me, is very much a long-term work.  It seems to always be a work in progress.

As time went on, and I took a blogging course, I realized that I did indeed have a platform - and that platform, that main focus, is twofold:  workplace bullying and recovery from workplace bullying.  My blog, therefore, became more focussed.

I also realized that many people have been - and are still being - bullied in the workplace.  I'm not the only one.

I may be one of the few who is willing to be open and transparent about what happened, but I'm not the only one.

As I open myself up, others have opened themselves up to me about their various experiences of bullying:  at work, on the school bus, in the neighbourhood, at church.  Bullying knows no boundaries.  It crosses all lines.

The biggest sameness about the stories is the damage, frustration and confusion it causes those who became entrapped in its grips along with the silence.  Those stories, those hurts stay hidden in the subconscious.  Untreated they don't go away, they just lie buried like the dust bunnies under the bed.

Having said all that, the reason this blog has its irregularities is because it mirrors life:  my life specifically.

My progress on the road to recovery.  A path that is not charted.  I have no workbooks, no guidelines.  It's all a "do it yourself" kind of thing - with help, of course, from my therapist, my doctor, and a few long-suffering friends and family members.

It's a trial and error kind of thing.  Back and forth.

So when I find that a topic is becoming too much for me, i.e. the recent one on serial bullying where my research is so uncannily similar to what I experienced that it would be easier to copy and paste the entire article and redact out the pieces that don't fit, then to write about what does fit - which is most of the article.

I had to stop that theme, probably temporarily, so I can process those things - come to terms with them - and eventually let them go.  

So the times you don't hear from me are the times I'm down for the count.  Lethargic.  Listless.  The processing times.  The times when I feel like I am slogging through a very muddy field which is sucking my boots down at each step requiring more energy than I have to make it through that field to the other, dryer end.  The times that come before the victory.

Yet I am convinced that recovery, complete recovery, is coming.  It may not look like what I envisioned at the start.  But it will come.  My body may never soar gliding the currents in the wind like the above picture of a seagull, but I firmly believe that my soul will glide again.

Until tomorrow....

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 Abuse: A day in the life

 What is an average day in the life of a person recovering from workplace abuse?

Other than the fact, that I'm pretty sure there is no such thing as an average day in the life of anybody.

Add to that the fact that we're all different.  The abuse we suffered was different.  The damage was different.  Our stages in life are different.

Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

So here I am.  A "mature" adult who has just turned 65.  An empty nester.  Married to the same long-suffering guy for more than 30 years.  A co-dependent from an early age.

My life, post workplace abuse, is going to look far different from someone who is much younger, who has children still at home, who hopefully has come into this with more elasticity and is able to bounce back a bit more than someone like me who is older and getting worn out by life's circumstances.

For me, many times an average day in the life post workplace bullying consists of simply putting one foot in front of the other.  Waking up in the morning, putting coffee on for my beloved and seeing him off to work.  Working on this blog.  Writing a daily email to my best friend, who is also my cousin and has been an invaluable support to me on my journey.

Most of my life is lived in a small room on the second floor of my house facing the street.  It contains almost everything, except the bathroom and the kitchen, that I need to sustain life:  my computer, my collection of DVDs, a phone, books, and most importantly, hooks, needles, some yarn and some patterns.  The rest of my yarn and patterns are housed in a room nearby where I can get them easily.

During the acute - and especially the beginning of the chronic - phases of my life after the workplace, my world shrank drastically.

I was no longer able physically to do many of the things I had enjoyed before.

I used to cope by taking long walks.  We live near a river and there is a walking path by the river.  Yet, my energy was so drained that except on rare occasions, this was no longer possible.

After even a simple outing, I would find I was so drained of energy that I would sleep for up to 13 hours and spend days afterwards lying in bed.  Sometimes unable to even sleep, I would turn to prayer.  It was the only thing I could do on those days.

On top of that, my balance became badly affected.  At one point I would take a cane with me so that if I started to fall or veer in a strange direction, I could balance on it.  Oh, how I envied my mom and the folks at her assisted living place their wheeled walkers!

One thing though that grew and flourished during this time has been my creativity.  I've crocheted for more than 40 years.  During this time I learned how to knit.  Both of these are serve as a crucial right-brain therapy.

A typical day in my life involves writing this blog first thing in the morning.  As you've undoubtedly noticed, there are days it doesn't appear.  Those are the days when the thoughts just won't come.  When I feel draggy and lethargic from the get go.  Those are the days when I just sit here and watch DVD's and maybe crochet or knit.   Those are the days when even crocheting and knitting become a chore.  Those are the days when I don't go outside the house.  I could call those the "bad" days and in some ways, they are.  Yet, I've learned that even a low energy, low productivity day can still be a good day.

It's a good day when I'm able to get a meal on for hubby.  When he comes in the door after work, sniffs the air and says: "It smells like somebody loves me."

It's a good day when I have a text conversation with one of my daughters and with a friend out west.

It's a good day when I see something growing from the hook or needles in my hands.

There are many "small" things which can make an "average" day into a "good" day.

So today as I end this blog and prepare to push the publish and then the share buttons, I look forward to what this day might hold.  I look forward to those little things that make up the journey towards recovery.

I remind myself that the key word here is:  forward.

I look forward.

Until tomorrow....

Post Workplace Abuse: How do people heal? A guest post by Stasia Sowers

The big question for all of us who have been badly damaged due to our experiences with bullying in the workplace, the big question is:  "How do I recover?"  Combined with:  "Is recovery possible?"

Today's guest blogger, Stasi Sowers, has also been through multiple experiences of workplace bullying which left her damaged ... and has survived to not only tell the tale but, unlike me, to work again.

I'm going through the route of "traditional therapy", which is working well for me - although it is taking a long time.

Unlike me, Stasi has chosen a different route for her recovery.  One that is working for her. At the end of her post, she has given her contact information in case anyone else is interested in learning more about either the route she has taken for recovery or what she is doing now.

Stasi has guest posted once before on Ramblings of a Deranged Mind.  I welcome her back and look forward to hearing from her again in the future.

Recovering from Workplace Bullying.

So the question becomes, why didn't I select conventional methods after my experience at work?  I WAS traumatized by my experiences, and I actually did  turn to a Psychologist at first.  In fact, I saw 3 different Christian Psychologists. While I found that I felt better after speaking with them, the effects soon wore off and I found myself in need of talking to someone again, not feeling any better and right back where I began.  

As a woman of faith, I wanted to stay in alignment with my beliefs, but realized that conventional methods were failing.  I didn't see the reasoning of going to someone for help and remaining in therapy for 5 or 10 years ... or for the rest of my life.  I knew there had to be a better way. 

Since I had previously experienced somewhat high levels of anxiety due to an unrelated situation, and had used an alternative form of healing quite successfully,  I decided to try the same subliminal messaging and the Messianic Law of Attraction to heal this wound as well.  I began to understand this was a more direct way of accessing the subconscious and healing the deep wounds I had as a result of the way I had been treated.  The process directly targeted the obstacles that these wounds had created and once they were identified, I was quickly able to remove them.  

Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that Psychologists and what they offer aren't valuable. If you are clinically depressed, if you have a chemical imbalance or have actual behavioural health issues, then a Psychologist or even Psychiatrist, etc, can be very useful and, for some people, necessary.  But my wounds weren't that severe, and I had never been predisposed to depression or anything of the sort. 

I now coach others and help them work through and overcome their obstacles in the same way I was able to overcome them myself.  I also speak to groups whenever possible to educate them about what Bullying is, how it affects us and how to protect ourselves from others' insecurities, attempts to control, manipulate or dominate others.  It's now my mission to help others in healing their own pain. I teach them tools that don't require them to stay with me for years and years and years, and I allow them to take back their own personal power.  Acceptance, Forgiveness, Gratitude and Empowerment ... taking responsibility not for the behaviour that's been inflicted upon you, but being responsible for how you react to that behaviour.  To learn more, please visit https://clarityandawareness.webs.com, or email me at mloacoach@gmail.com. 

Blessings,

Stasia Sowers