Nothingness


“It’s just about time to go” announces my anxiety.

“I wish I didn’t have to” I reply, still worn out from my work life.

“You could quit..” says Reason.

“Who will pay the bills?!” demands Fear

“You have other jobs that make you more money. You would be able to grow that business if you were not tied up in that cesspool every day” argues Reason.

“But what if…” Anxiety starts but is cut off by Sadness “What if WHAT?! What if you work for YEARS making them money and they treat you like crap? What if you sacrificed your time with friends or family and they lie about you?? What if you have helped each of them on different occasions and they act like you are the biggest piece of shit in the world?! Yeah, what if. That will make things better!”

My department is thriving again. First in income and dollars per.

Yet, I don’t know how to manage.

Wednesday is my unreasonable deadline.

My attorney is willing to go after them personally for their bullying and intimidation. My attorney is willing to go after the company for allowing it. All I need to do is sign on the dotted lines. Yet….I really don’t want to.

Not because they all don’t deserve it. They do.

It’s because I don’t deserve it.

I deserve to have the respect that the work I have done over the years dictates.

If you don’t like someone, it doesn’t change their value. If you don’t like someone, it changes YOUR value if you allow it to interfere with everyone’s ability to do the job.

Senior Director likes to say “We need to remember that it doesn’t matter if we like someone personally. It only matters that they can do the job”.

Senior is trying to convince themselves and those around because they are all fodder within the company for making “mean girl” business decisions based on emotion and favor.

Keep repeating it because you’re no closer than you were the first time you said it.

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Take a stand


Have you seen the movie “Wreck it Ralph?”

It’s about a video game character that breaks up buildings (wrecking) and wants to be a good guy but no one will allow it.

That’s my work life in a nutshell.

I was the “fixer”. The person to help turn areas around and get them moving correctly. I guess in doing so, it set a reputation as me being a beast or as being someone who is difficult to deal with.

I’m not. Many in our company would say they find me agreeable and helpful.

The mean girls (my bosses) don’t.

It stems from my original boss and I butting heads. It stems from her (at that time) inability to be secure in her position and thinking I wanted to undermine her. I would never.

It stems from her family being in power positions and starting the tale of distrust and disdain.

For many years I have had to endure gossip, slander and deceit. I kept thinking if I work harder, do things faster, better, make more money for the agency or change into who they say I should be that I would finally reach the place of value.

Yesterday I came to the realization that it will never happen.

They’re not capable.

So, where does that leave me?

Wrecked. Despondent and with a massive panic & anxiety disorder all in the name of trying to win over my bosses…..all for nothing. Nothing.

The only thing I have to show for my years of loyalty are mounting medical bills, battle wounds you’ll never see, the lowest self-esteem on record and…being wrecked in every single way possible.

They used every ounce I had to give and “amusingly” still want more.

I have nothing left for me, my family or my “life” yet, they want more.

What would that be? My last breath? Because there are plenty of days I swear those people, that company has just about driven me to take it.

I have panic, anxiety, health anxiety, OCD, depression and zero self-worth.

If I continue maybe you’ll even take my family, my home and of course, my soul.

Well, I’m going to have to decline.

Yesterday was the straw that did your camel in. You all win.

I officially am too wrecked to live. I’m officially too destroyed to fight back, defend myself or even care.

It took you a long time to destroy me but you finally have. Congratulations.

I won’t be back. I won’t be your whipping post or the person you use any more.

I can’t. As I glance around the room and see the wires, monitors and blips of my heart beating across the screen with the nurse steps away I realize that you’re not worth anything to me.

I’m broken but hopefully someday I will be strong again. You are decayed and people who are like that generally stay that way.

It’s too bad really. I worked hard to move mountains for you. In this day and age, how many employees are willing to even try?

So I head out on my way to rebuild what you’ve destroyed. To someday be back to myself and hopefully find an employer that will value my work and allow me to be one of the good guys.

Fade to black


Have you ever fainted? Have you ever nearly fainted? Then you understand.

For those that haven’t, its an odd sensation.

Yesterday I was sitting on my couch. Knees bent, feet on the coffee table, working on my laptop.

I kept hearing some kid screaming at the top of their lungs. It sounded like a tantrum but just kept happening. Finally, I thought I should look out, just to make sure nothing was wrong.

I jumped up, walked 5 steps, looked at a house across the street and everything started going black. I held on to the door and for some reason, in my head, kept repeating my name.

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Weird. The blackness almost took me completely over, but then faded away.

During those seconds, I didn’t feel a thing. I knew I was going out. I knew it wasn’t a good thing, but it was like reading a book.

Once it was over however, the terror was on.

I raced to my room and repeatedly took my blood pressure. I called my spouse at work who couldn’t come home and at that moment, couldn’t talk. I decided to get dressed as I felt so shaky and weak that I was likely going to have to call 9-1-1.

My spouse called back and was good about it but not leaving work. My spouse offered my mother-in-law or daughter-in-law, our son or EMS as my spouse is the only person in the office on Saturday and not past the 90 day probation period. It’s understandable.

So, pulse ox, blood pressure, heart sounds with a stethoscope monitoring galore.

I accessed my Facebook support groups, put a call into the Cardiologist (Who by the way, never called me back), and went to that answers website where you pay a fee and professionals will respond, even doctors.

The website doc could have made matters much worse but oddly, I didn’t fixate on what he said. He thought it was likely common but listed all of the textbook reasons why I should immediately go to the Emergency Room. I can Google for free, thanks.

When pressed as to if he himself has experienced such a thing, responded curtly along with how to make sure he gets paid for his answer.

My Facebook group was most helpful along with websites. I tried to stay away from worst case possibilities as its not a common thing for me and I was on the dehydrated side. But. That didn’t, doesn’t keep me from worrying it will happen again.

In my reasoning mind I know such a fast change in position coupled with dehydration can cause exactly what happened.

In my fearful mind, I don’t care. I’m scared and worn out from being so fearful and unhappy for the last 9 months.

In my fearful mind I feel like a victim. I feel trapped in this haze of terror, fear, unrest and disbelief.

It had gotten bad enough that I finally broke down and took .125 mg of an Ativan.

For those not aware, I am terrified of medicine. I have pills that are .5mg, but fearful of them, so I quarter the pill.

It’s just enough to eventually bring the terror down to just a hair below panic. Semi-tolerable.

It takes a long time to work. Probably close to two hours yesterday. Of course, such a small dose has a big hill to climb.

Once it finally kicked in, I felt partially normal.

Earlier in the day I started reconsidering Zolof again. My doc gave me 12.5mg to start but I just can’t take it. I’m fearful. I went to the answers website and chatted with a Pharmacist who was bewildered as to why such a low dose was an issue. I don’t think he ever got it. He eventually resorted to it being such a low dose that it wouldn’t register and talked about the benefits of SSRI meds, well tolerated at such a low dose, etc.

Yeah, its still sitting there. I put my 1/2 of a micro pill up next to my spouses who takes 100mg. It looks like a fruit fly in comparison. Harmless looking really….but….nope. couldn’t do it.

I have actually considered just taking the Ativan for a few days instead.

I know literature suggests no more than 2-4 weeks. My doc thought with the nano dose I will take, it could be longer. She actually wants me to take the Ativan along with the Zoloft in an effort to preemptively strike the inevitable terror that will come with me taking a new pill. Which would be awesome….if I could take the damned thing….

So, Ativan is on the table. This morning I am PLANNING on taking my nano dose and maybe “enjoying” my day. I figure if I take it once we are up and before we start planning our day, I will be capable of leaving the house and perhaps experiencing some true relaxation or dare I hope, joy. At minimum, I’m hoping to have a normal outting less torment.

Planning is the key word. When you’re terrified of meds, a plan can fall apart quickly. It can be something as fast and simple as a news blurb. “Taking Ativan? You won’t want to miss this at 6.”

That’s it. I’m done. I won’t take it.

Someone who hadn’t fallen off of the normal wagon can’t comprehend my plight. You’ve never been to the edge of crazytown. You don’t know the amount of fear and torment I face just by having a day off.

A day off used to be pure joy. A full two or God bless, three days off was cause for celebration. I was in bliss.

Now, its torment. It’s unscheduled time for my mind to pick at the fear wound.

Odd since work also causes me torment.

Think about that. I have hell at work, I have hell at home.

Where do you relax?

You don’t.

I have varying degrees of torment. The Director is out of town, no games going on, no daggers to remove from my spine, I can relax a minute. Maybe even enjoy my job a little while.

Then I go home and fear death.

The Director returns to work, I wait for the next assault, amped up and trying to step cautiously as you never know where she has placed the next landmine.

I go home and fear death.

Once in a great while I am able to not fear death, but mostly, I do. Well, its a give and take really. There are times I’m terrified and begging God to please give me my life back while other times, I beg Him to just let me go because I can’t live like this any more.

Ultimately, I age daily. Yes, I know, we all do. But I LOOK like I’m aging. More grey hair. My eyes look worried. Wrinkles have set in. I look worn out because……I am.

So, its 8:18 on Sunday morning and I just took another quarter of an Ativan because even at this hour, I’m already fretting. Already fearful. Already jumping head first into torment.

It’s too bad really. Just about a year 1/2 ago, I was counting my blessings. I couldn’t believe the life I had. I was grateful that I was able to provide for my family and still do my own training. I was starting to see signs (in retrospect) that the Director, then District, was likely doing things that I didn’t fully understand but wasn’t ready to assign reality to yet. I started being worried about losing my job. I started feeling down. But, I kept pushing because there was no solid evidence.

My worry continued to eat at me while the District (now Director) would tell me how much people didn’t like me. How I set people the wrong way. How she was ghetto only one that “Got” me, but not to worry. She was always looking out for my best interests.

I felt grateful that she was on my side, while at the same time distraught that I was so despised and didn’t understand why. I did my job. I was honest, I was helpful…yet, hated.

I didn’t understand it.

Now, I guess I do. She was busy weaving lies about me while telling me she was my savior.

It’s dizzying to consider that someone could be so….I don’t know the word….not quite Evil…because I don’t think she is, but…..maybe, manipulative….at minimum.

It’s stunning to think someone would want to be like that. Do those things. I just don’t understand

So, as I lay here waiting for the terror to quiet to simple agony or despair, I know I have to leave this job in order to save my life.

It doesn’t seem fair. I treat people well. Do my job. Extend a helping hand any time needed, yet, I’m the one that has to leave.

There is a perfect picture of the state of our world. Our culture.

The bad people advance while the good ones give up and go away.

Silence doesn’t mean its all clear


Sometimes I go a few days without talking about my panic. Silence doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.

Sometimes we get sick of listening to ourselves complain.

I always tell my spouse, if I could have me sit on a bench and say “wait here, I’ll be right back…” I would and then I’d never return.

Let that part of me sit there wondering where I went for a while. It’s only fair since I’ve been wondering where the real, panic free me is for months now.

I give me a bigger headache than anyone else could ever dream of!

Luckily, or un, its not been going on so long that I’ve forgotten what feeling “normal” was like. I still know that this time last year I was stressed but ok. Not hour by hour checking and rechecking my blood pressure, pulse, pulse ox and how my body feels…like I do now.

I was active and still had self-confidence. I was unaware of my heart beat (except once in a while when I would have a kerplunk or thunk). I felt them, wondered if I should get that checked out, and moved on. I didn’t crumble wondering if it was my last breath like I might surely do now.

So let the new me sit on that bench waiting. It deserves to for what I’ve gone through! Let it see what it feels like to be abandoned and worn out Damn it!