Friday, June 6, 2014
On the Road to Recovery:
I have a blog almost finished. Almost ready to push the publish button. In. My. Mind.
Nothing on paper, or rather computer screen - yet. And yet, when I push the new post button and stare at the blank, white screen, nothing happens. The words refuse to come. I just sit here starring at the screen. Trying to will myself to remember what my fruitful mind was thinking even just a few moments ago.
And that, my friends, is one of the reasons there was such along time period between blog postings. The disconnect between the active, fertile mind and the fingers. The flow that isn't there.
If only ...
If only, I could plug a USB port or flash drive or something into my mind and let my thoughts actively flow onto the screen.
If only ....
But we all know that "if onlys" are not reality. They are imagination. They are dreams that don't come true. They are regrets about life. How it happened. How it played out.
If only, I had realized what I was up against at the work situation sooner and devised a "safe" plan to get out.
But are there any safe plans when mobbing is occurring along with gossip, backbiting, slander, defamation of character?
Where everything appears to be being filtered through the mind - or more - of one very unhappy individual(s) and then passed around behind my back for general office consumption?
I'd had the courage to walk out. Yet I realized later that that would have only caused more problems as these people - the clique of five - were watching me like hawks. I'm sure if I had turned off my computer, left a note on the keyboard and walked out, they would have swooped upon my desk like hawks intent on their prey or like vultures after roadkill as soon as the door closed behind me and called the manager. Thus controlling the the view.
I thought of giving my two week - or whatever - notice. But instinctively knew that because of the exclusion, isolation and silence, two weeks would seem like an eternity and leaving would not be accompanied by well wishes or even good byes. It would be accomplished in silence. Being ignored. Walking out like a dog who has been whipped - and whipped soundly. Thus bringing more damage.
I truly believe now in retrospect that there was no way to get out of that situation unscathed. The problem was to try to find a way out that would cause the least damage possible. If there was one.
What has brought this on? This reflection?
Part of my path to recovery has been to join some on-line groups regarding workplace abuse. One currently has a thread going, quite an active thread I might add, on how a target of bullying recovers. Interestingly enough and yet not surprisingly, there are as many opinions as there are contributors. At first, most of the contributors where what I call "clinical" - posting their theory rather than the reality of what a target goes through. Yet, there were others like me who had been - or maybe still are - in the trenches of workplace abuse. Posting from our reality. Our experience.
Yet, while there are some commonalities among us, there are disagreements as well. Depending. On. A. Lot. Of. Things.
This was the post going through my mind. Almost written. A post about my thoughts on this thread about recovery.
Tomorrow. Or the next time I post - since tomorrow is Saturday and I don't usually post on weekends.
Now where is that USB port connection in my brain to plug into the computer?