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?
