Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Obviously, it’s been far too long since my last entry. Sometimes life has a way of getting away from us. As a writer, those proverbial dry spells do exist, although sometimes it evolves from a lack of passion in our own lives. My passion for the cause of ending domestic violence, ending parental alienation, and lending guidance to the victim has never waned. Instead, my focus on the importance of these issues became dormant due to social issues of enormous proportions, which weighed heavily, and still continues to do so, despite another respite. Fortunately, this is not a component of the fight many of my readers are facing. I am not involved in any lengthy court battles, or domestic violence. In fact, my preoccupation is something I could theoretically walk from, had it not involved a family member. I shall address this in future blogs. In doing some research, I discovered areas of personality disorders I did not know existed or even had a name. Therefore, some future blogs will contain some fascinating and frightening information on infantile personality disorder, as well as addiction, gambling and depression.
Another issue that kept me from blogging was more personable and shareable. What should have been a happy occurrence became problematic, yet solvable, albeit time consuming. I was hired for a full time position. I was hired for a job working for the state in an administrative capacity in an industry that was completely foreign to me. Not only was it unfamiliar, the learning curve was so great, that only someone with a passion for learning this industry could retain all the acronyms for each department and project. Although my relegated cubicle was spacious and had a window, the autonomy was slightly more tolerable than the dreaded meetings where I would take minutes that I can only equate to transcribing a meeting conducted in a foreign language. I suggested a Dictaphone for these meetings. Sadly, that never came to fruition.
On the day an invitation to meet with human resources appeared on my calendar, I knew my days were numbered. I was never one to decorate my office space until I was certain I was sufficiently happy. Therefore, there was little I needed to collect – a few pictures, and the record of the online and live courses I completed. Bidding farewell to the woman in the neighboring cubicle – the only person I chatted with in the company, I made my way to the meeting.
I was ushered into a conference room, with my immediate supervisor, who sat in awkward silence. The human resource generalist, who I knew from previous meetings greeted me cheerily, but then sympathetically told me that “this is not a happy meeting”. I replied, “I know,” although I had a huge smile on my face. I knew I was being released from a job that simply did not work for me. No remorse, no regrets, no anger…not every job is meant for every person. Despite the generous salary, the weight of the stress of the workday had become intolerable. My dismissal, as well as the ability to collect unemployment as far more desirable, despite the uncertainty of obtaining alternate employment.
In paralleling that separation to a marital dissolution, it occurred to me how similar I felt. When I separated from my abuser, I felt relief. I felt happy in moving on with my life. I was optimistic for new opportunities. I left a marriage that did not work for me, just like leaving a job that did not work for me. The only difference was who initiated the separation. I imitated the marital separation, contrary to my former company who initiated the separation. I looked at the latter split as a sensible culmination. I had been looking at places outside of my workplace for something else, just as my former husband had been looking outside the marriage for someone else. Why was my initiation of ending an unsatisfying union met with such anger and retaliation? We have all read about the disgruntled employees who retaliate with violence after being terminated from employment. These individuals are usually determined to be unstable and suffering from some psychological illness.
With that analogy, perhaps my career aspirations should have been the law, as that comparison has won my case. Isn’t it ironic that family court judges are not that insightful?