The Mental Health Day

Any regular reader of this blog has probably twigged that I've not been having a great time at work of late.

And I haven't. It's been quite frankly revolting - though I won't say a bad word about my team who are great. It's just a hostile, toxic environment and after a lot of consideration, I put in my resignation the other day to see me out of there at the end of the month.

It's been bad enough to stop me writing and drain the joy out of my normally happy spirit. It's not a good place to be.

Thing is, after yet another stress filled day at the coal face yesterday, once again having strips torn off me by the department boss for alleged non-performance, once again ending up feeling like I was the most incompetent, useless person who'd completely misrepresented myself at the interview, it was decided among the bosses that I should leave there and then. Oh yes, adding insult to injury, I'm told that I should harden up as well. He want the sweet and bubbly person he saw at the interview back - my answer for which is how can you be sweet and bubbly when you're in an environment where everybody is feeling knives to their back.

Great. A months worth of work to get through in a fortnight and they're another team member down. That was my first thought.

The last time I was spoken to like this was back in the day I worked in a department store with a draconian, Victorian boss. Different modus operandi, miserable and trapped - maybe this it why the current situation is rankling so much.

Then after going for a coffee with my team manager to get some air and talk this out (with his full sympathies, as he's had issues with this person) I come back to the next manager up the line wanting a talk with me.

I like this fellow a lot. He's a good bloke. I explained the situation - that I've been miserable, that I find the environment toxic, that how anybody gets anything done in such a hostile environment amazing, that my confidence had been knocked and that the tasks to be done were insurmountable. And that I resent being told to "Harden Up." I also said that in me leaving - what ever my incompetences - would leave the team even more exposed. He and I came to the agreement, saying he could find no problem with my work, that I'd take the rest of the day off, come back Monday, blast through what I could for the next week and leave next Friday. He would also keep me out of the firing line of the other guy.
Fine for me. Better for the team.

So, for the first time in my history - I'm having a mental health day, purely for my mental health reasons.

I'll cope next week. It's five days with a senior manager's protection. It will be fine.

But for today - I've had a lovely quiet one.

Last night, after I left work, came in, had some dinner, I went to the gym. Thankfully, it was Slap night last night - off to see the trainer. 45 minutes spent throwing heavy things around and belting the crap out of things really helped. After three tabata rounds with the punching bag, I think it was pretty dead. "Have I killed it yet, Slap?" I'd ask him after each sweat dripping round.

"Nearly." he'd smile back at me. "Go back and kill it some more."

Slap knows that I used to train with one of Lennox Lewis's old trainers in London. Boxing is my go to stress reliever. I've got a session up my sleeve with Erdin, another one of the trainers who specialises in boxing. I swap website text for boxing lessons. I think I'll need it. Taking your anger, stress and resentment out on something that won't yell back is a good thing.

I left feeling much better.


(image from fanpop.com)

And so to today. I woke to a monster headache - not surprisingly.

A morning spent reading in bed, a lunchtime Pump class, lunch with Jay, more reading and now I'm off to dinner with Pinochet and the girls from the gym for a catch up.

The rest of the weekend has me having a nice girlie day with some friends tomorrow, maybe a movie and a christening party for a friend's daughter. Should be nice.

It was only the other day I was mentioning to a friend that I was sick of having to be a hard nut all the time  - that I wanted to be soft and gentle for a change - to not have to gird my loins every time I stepped into the door at work. To not feel the urge to give some expletive driven rant to the guy who told me to "Harden up."

Things don't have to be like this.

And I'm looking for my next role. I have the list of requirements - something I neglected to investigate in this last role. It looks like this:

• Great people
• Interesting, challenging work with defined scope
• Good money
• City based
• Work life balance
• Mid-large sized company
• Good management
• Fun, diverse, interesting team
• 6-12 month contract

My last role at Sparks and Ladders ticked all these boxes.

Lets hope, like last time I left a contract early, I manifest this sort of role again - that this dreadful work experience is ending so I can find something great. I'm putting it out there.

It's not until you've witnessed the bad do you really appreciate how good the good can be.

Networks

There are lots of things they don't tell you when you're growing up.

And there's lots of things that nobody is ever going to tell you. Ever. You just have to work them out for yourself - of if you're really lucky, somebody might let you know about some of these pearls of wisdom and you'll get set on the straight an narrow.

There are other things that you are told, take no notice of, and then finally, after years of parroting these catechisms, you work out what they really mean.

"God helps those who help themselves." Been saying it for years.

The words that have stuck with me is. "God takes care of his own," and "Treat others as you wish to be treated yourself". All good stuff.

This week I've spent a bit of time reflecting of faith - and responsibility. The real meaning behind these sayings.

As a child, I was sent off to Sunday School at the local church. I'm not sure why - my parents didn't go to church, though they would both call themselves "Methodist" or "Christian" on official forms.

Sunday school meant spending the first half hour in the little white church in Myponga and another half hour in the church hall next door where we did games and bible lessons and other banal things like that. I attended Sunday School until I was sixteen (when it had gone from Sunday School to youth group.)

What did I get out of this? Not much really. I know the Lord's Prayer and the ten commandments. I've got a Christian work ethic. I like to think that I take care of people.

So I gave back my Christian ticket  many years ago,  but still have faith that God, the universe, Yahweh, what every you wish to call the deity some believe runs the place - and I still believe that personal responsibility is the key to this. If you take responsibility for your actions, you will be rewarded in kind.

A couple of times this rang true - so very true in this difficult week of adjustments.

Sitting with a gym friend talking about the joys of making changes. She's been a little upset after Pump class on Sunday - tossing about the joys of resigning from a role she took on after leaving a stable job in a large corporation last year. I agreed to meet her after the gym for dinner to talk about her resigning.

"You can't be on your own tonight." I told her
"Nah, I always have the teddy bears."
"Not the same. It's night's like this when you need to be with people. It's all a bit scary, but you've taken responsibility - you will be rewarded for it."
"You sound very sure of yourself."
"Never surer."

There were other reasons for meeting this friend and not leaving her to the company of her teddy bears.

She's a part of the single woman's network.

What they don't tell you when you're a little girl is that some women don't grow up to get married and have children. Some women find themselves on their own in the world. And they need to find their own support network. Like minded people who are in the same boat - intelligent, professional, single women who find themselves banding together. An easy alliance of friendship in and support.

We had a great talk that night, me and my gym mate. She's on her way - much happier for removing herself from a role where she was unhappy.

The meeting with my friend rallied me to do something about my own situation. Unhappy in my current role, I've made a decision, at last.

Now it's just a matter of having a bit of faith, taking some responsibility, using my networks and getting on with things.

Maybe that this what all this faith stuff is about. Just having the courage to get through life.

It's going to be an interesting few weeks.

The Suppository of all Useless Knowledge

Just as one should never go into battle with a Sicilian when death is on the line (Vizzini, The Princess Bride), on should never go into a game of Trivial Pursuit with Pandora when ice cream is on the line.

For I am the Suppository of all Useless Knowledge. With a semi-photographic memory.

These factors make me a gun at Trivial Pursuit.

People shudder when going up against me on Quiz Nights. I know a heap of crap about all sorts of things.

Like a fartlek is Swedish for "speed play.'

That Tristram Shandy was the first novel in English ever written.

One of Shakespeare's most misquoted lines is "Alas, poor Yorrick, I know him Horatio."  It is not, "Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well' ! Philostines.!

H, He, Li, Be, B, C, N,O,F, Ne, Na, Mg, Al, Si, P, S, Cl, Ar, K, Ca.... The first twenty elements of the periodic table - thanks Mr Mundy for embedding this useless bit of knowledge in my brain for eternity - loved Matriculation Chemistry.

Chicken don't have teeth.  Badger's willies have a bone. Dogs allegedly see in black and white.

That the head of Burke and Wills have never been found - once they left the Dig Tree and died, their bodies were savaged by dingoes.

William Carlos Williams' poem 'The Red Wheelbarrow" is one of the most studied in the world - because it is short. Second to this one is Donne's, "The Sick Rose', also chosen by students because of it's brevity.

Audrey Hepburn was Belgian.

Barack Obama's middle name is Hussein.... which is sorta strange in an ironic sport of way.

John Howard's middle name is Winston - which is probably the coolest thing about him. He and Stanley Bruce are the only sitting Prime Ministers to be voted out at an election - and a bloody good thing at was too.

I love useless facts.

Contracting and the Princess Bride

The week from hell ended on a really good note. A much better Friday, reconciliation with my manager so that we're on the same page, a productive day, an informative coffee with an old friend - all of this meant that a little bit of faith had been in my place of work (not that much, but I didn't feel like dry retching on entering the building). I also got to leave at five on the dot, go straight home where I met up with Gloria for a feets session and a spot of dinner. After that, I made my way to the local cinema and took in The Great Gatsby.

I know that there's a lot of detractors of the film, but I reckon Baz got it right. Tobey Maguire made a wonderful Nick Carraway, Carey Mulligan was an ethereal Daisy and Leonardo Di Caprio was everything you'd expect from Gatsby and more. It did help that I read the book last week - and I reckon before you take on this film, get a copy and have a read. It's only 160 pages long - and it will make a lot of sense of a few things in the script that do grate a bit - but if you're read the book you'll find out that most of the words spoken in the film are present on the page. I like that. The sets, the costumes and the cinematography will put this in the Oscars. Definitely worth a look - but do read the book first.

Anyway, this morning, after meditation and a planning session with one of my Elks friends for the Most 'Orrible Property Committee, I had a strange thought. I get these now and then.

Contracting - or Consulting, is very much like the Princess Bride.

For those who haven't met me, or worked with me, you may not know how much I love "The Princess Bride". It's wonderful. In my last job there were four of us who could quote great chunks of it. Most of my friends can go into "Princess Bride Mode" at the mention of R.O.U.Ses, the Six Fingered Man, Prince Humperdinck and the use of a Holocaust Cloak.

But it really got me thinking, especially after the dire week I had last week. Contracting and the Princess Bride are very much aligned.

And this is why.

1. You end up saying, "As you wish." a lot of the time, even when you don't want to. And what happens in the movie often happens to you. (As you wish never means what it does in the movie either)

2. Workplaces often end up like some of the places the hapless trio end up. This one especially.

3. You often end up in battles you don't feel like fighting. 

(Everybody knows that you don't go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line. There are a lot of people like this about.)

4. Sometimes your work environment takes a bit of getting used to. And the locals are not always friendly.

5. It can take a while to get used to everybody's agendas. And when you find them out, it's not that great.

6. On the really bad days it can feel like your soul is being sucked away.

7. You might be called upon to be to be really creative in the face of adversity. And collaborate.

8. You may find yourself among very vocal detractors who cannot see the value of having your around.

9. Where you thought you were going isn't where you finally end up. It's about expectation management.

10. And there are times where you are required to perform miracles.

What do you reckon? One in the same?

I think I want to go watch this again. One of the best films ever made. It is life on celluloid.

(I'll leave you with Mandy Patinkin, who played Inigo Montoya. This interview made me cry. He's got it in one. Princess Bride fans, if you watch one video, make it this one.)

The Fleas of a Thousand Camels

I was bullied at school.

Thankfully it wasn't the merciless type of bullying that you hear about in the tabloids and on the current affairs shows - and thank goodness that  in my day there wasn't facebook, email, mobile phones and social media. But being the overweight, strange kid in the home made skirts and the sensible shoes at thirteen, comments were made and teasing was to be had. Thankfully most of this stopped when I got to about Year Ten and studies took over from just having to be at school and coping with year nine morons who are now probably in prison or on the dole.

Looking back, I'm sure that this teasing didn't help with my low self-esteem, but I also see that at the time I just walked away, didn't react and after a while they left me alone. The strategy worked. It also made me a more resilient person.

I've also known one or two small periods where I've been bullied at work. There was one particularly heinous attack where my work pass photo was placed on some hard core pornography and distributed around the company. This was London in the nineties. It would be seen as criminal today, but the perpetrators got of with a mark on their personnel files. No apology to me, just don't do it again. Not right, but it stopped.

The other bullying incident happened soon after at the same company, One particularly fractious person was taken apart by Human Resources and was under strict instruction not to approach me after tearing strips off me in front of the whole office. An isolated incident and not ongoing. The person involved was up in front of HR annually for their attitude - as somebody who had a key role they were too important to fire - people just gave them a wide berth.

Both of these times were incredibly distressing, but were handled quickly - as there is no way I was going to let people treat me like this and get away with it. There was back up. It ended and I moved on.

The other thing about working environments, like school, is that you're not going to get on with everybody all the time. Working like I do, you work out who you need to keep clear of, who you have to treat with kid gloves and who you may need back up with. It's the job of the contractor to learn this quickly and get on with things.

This has been a very challenging contract on many levels. I wouldn't say that I'm that content at work at the moment - although the team I work with are great and I won't say a bad word against them.

Then you have days like today.

It got off to a bad start. An email from my old boss to tell me of the death of a much loved colleague at Sparks and Ladders. I gasped with shock in receiving the news - although admittedly the old guy, due for retirement in the next year or so, was a bit of a ticking time bomb.

From there, things went downhill with back to back meetings - a common feature of my Thursdays at this job.

The after lunch, I was called in to an office by my manager to answer some questions. Some back-stabbing rubbish which was sent to the upper echelons taken on the back of an earlier coffee meeting which went through the cycle of Chinese Whispers.

Like I'm 44-years-old, a professional player, trying to bring together a piece of work in a discordant, highly pressurised environment. And you're exposed to this passive-aggressive crap.

This was the second inflammatory happening for the week. The first, two days ago where I got an undeserved grilling which left me angry, but alright. The person involved is on my wide berth list, my manager had my back and the whole thing was diffused with a meeting and some reassurance.

What happened today was tantamount to bullying. Horrible, back stabbing, uncalled for shite.

Again, my manager and I diffused the situation, but not after some tears and more anger. Like we're supposed to be adults in a professional environment - having this sort of stuff occur twice in a week isn't reasonable and it isn't on.

And it's like you're back at high school with the cool kids whispering behind your back.

I'm considering my options at the moment. I know what I have to do - but I want to calm down first.

This contract was always going to be a hard one after loving my time at Sparks and Ladders. Also having a chat to the girl I work closely with, she's said that the area is known for it's discord and "colourful personalities".

But to be honest, it's not on. It's not on at all. You spend too much time at work to be unhappy there.

And to the passive aggressive, gutless, arse wipes who can't ask a direct question or talk to my face.

May a malevolent surgeon stitch up your arseholes, may all of Santa's reindeer get diarrhoea on your roof and may the fleas of a thousand camels nestle seductively in your fragrant armpits and pubes.

That feels a bit better.

I'm going to the gym to hit something now. The CV can wait for the weekend.

The Expression of Need

The influence of the meditation last week continues to blight my existence as long veiled truths keep coming to bite me in the bum.

Thankfully, the emotions have died down over Lachlan. Look at it, feel it, move on. It's just emotion, it's not going to kill me. Breathe and work through it.

It worked - and by the next day, things were back on track.

Yet the unveilings keep happening - each with very different perceptions. And very different pains.

It's made it interesting.

Compounding everything is my current work situation. Great team but a rather stressful role - with moving goalposts and plates to spin to keep in the air. I get in just before nine most mornings and leave around 5.30 pm, exhausted. I don't get out for lunch much, normally having to go to meetings around that time. It's a short term gig at the moment. I'm fine with this, but I've made a stand - Friday is the day I go out for lunch.

Meeting friends for lunch is important to me - it's how I maintain friendships, catch up on gossip and unwind during the day. At my last job I was known as Lady Lunchalot. In this job, not so much.

So Friday I met up with my old podmate, Pip. Pip and I have lunch at the same place once a month. He tells me about how the old company is going, how he takes his daughters to ballet on Saturday and how he wants to go sailing more. I tell him about my jobs, the cats I'm sitting and what I'm up to with running. Pip's great. We both like that we get each other out of the office  - even if it is once a month.

Friday's lunch was no different other than I kept running into people on the way to, during lunch and on the way back from the office. I ran into:

At our lunch spot, an old colleague who I chat with regularly
A girl who used to go to dream group
My favorite subject message expert from Sparks and Ladders
Another favorite developer from a few jobs back who reminds me of a Canadian Mountie
An old boss who I was surprised said hello
Another old boss who seemed just as frazzled as I was

This was all in the space of an hour. What is the universe telling me? That I should get out more?

The other eye opening time came when I sat and talked to a client this evening. Tarot can do this to you - open your eyes to things - normally when you'd rather stay blissfully unaware of things.

We talked about all sorts of things. My weekend in the Gold Coast with the girls came up.

"Weren't you scared? You, around eight other women - sounds like your hell" she asked.
"Yep, but it was a nurturing weekend. We talked and talked - I'm not used to talking like that."
"Were you surprised by anything?"
"Yes. What is it about us not being able to express need?" I asked her.
"How do you mean?"
"We don't know how to express what we need. We can talk about what we want, and what we dream about, but not what we really need."
"How so?"

I told her of the time I spent with one of the girls in the house. We talked a lot about her mother's passing - bonding in a way that you can only bond with somebody who knows what it feels like to lose a parent. There was a lot to talk about - not for me, but for my friend, who was still working out what loss is all about. I listened. And asked a lot of open questions, hoping that she would talk. Which she did. By the end of the weekend the light was beginning to creep back into her eyes.

"Didn't you find that exhausting?"
"No." I replied.
"Do you rescue everybody? You're sitting here rescuing me." said my client.
"I'm working with you." I told her. "This is a privilege."
"And as for your friend up at the Gold Coast?"
"Also a privilege. But there was something far more. I was just being the friend to her that I wish I had around when I was going through the same thing."

I kept my tears for after my client left.

Just as my friend is finding - expressing the need for comfort and support is sometimes impossible.

We can express the need for food or shelter easily enough - yet when it comes to say that you need comfort or support, we clam up. And in my case - I used to eat the emotions. Some people take drugs or drink. Others find other outlets.

But why is it so hard to express this basic human need?

I've been pondering this ever since. Why is it when it comes to asking for support and comfort I clam up? Why is it I loathe asking for help? I remember going in for surgery a few years ago and hating having to ask for help. My friends were marvelous, but there was something in me that felt defective, not having somebody around the house to look after me. I look after others and I look after myself. I don't need looking after.

Which was what I was discussing with my friend at the Gold Coast. We know how to provide support.

We're not instructed how to ask for it.

My aunt put something rather profound on her facebook page today. My aunt is going through a bit of a time at the moment as well.

“Fear distorts our perception of ourselves so that we seem weaker than we really are. It distorts the size of our problems so that they seem huge and undefeatable."

She forgot to mention that when we feel weak and problem ridden we don't want to burden others with the journey. It doesn't matter how distorted the fear or the problems may be. Is it the fear of being rejected or the fear of seeming weak?

I've got some more pondering to do. I've never thought about this.

I don't know how to express a basic human need. If I want comfort, I cuddle a cat.

Don't they say that identifying a problem is the first step in solving it.

Watch this space.

The Day of the Devil

I've been doing Kabbalah Meditation for many years now.

 Ever second Saturday morning I toddle over to Caulfield, make my way to Viv's place, take my place on the sofa - the same place I've been sitting in this circle since I started in 2005 or thereabouts and I let myself get taken away to all sorts of strange places as the group and I meditate in the cards of the Major Arcana of the tarot.

Over the years, I've learned that this type of meditation has it's perils. We're warned before we go under  (start meditating) that this can change the way you look at the world - and I've had some amazing epiphanies from doing this work. But after six years, I thought that there wasn't much left to surprise me.

I was wrong.

Yesterday morning I turned up to meditation. On time for a change. A smaller group than normal - lots of people were away, ill or just too lazy to turn up.

But this is normal when we work the path of the Devil.

Okay, it looks like a scary card. It is a bit of a scary card - until you find out what's behind it. The Devil is about blessings. See his had with the "Naanoo naanoo" sign and the Saturn glyph on it - a hidden blessing. The Devil is about the people in the front of the card, the naked ones. This card is about them removing the chains that are so obviously removed with ease and seeing the blessings.

We were warned that veils would be lifted - and we would be seeing truths that we wouldn't want to see.

I took no heed of the warning. I've done this path before. I know what to expect.

Wrong.

We all left meditation a little bit on the munged side and made our way to the our cafe for a much needed coffee. After half an hour, the others at the table had gone of to their tarot class and I was left chatting to a new guy in the group, Fabien about the joys of ritual.

Normal Saturday morning after meditation topics.

We also talked about the clarity that these meditations bring to us. The processes that we go to find enlightenment. I said that it appeared to get easier, the longer you do the work - just like peeling back the layers of an onion, you find a newer shinier onion underneath.

I neglected to tell Fabien that with peeling onions, there comes tears.

I wasn't quite ready for the fallout from this path working. It's normally so much more subtle.

The first I knew anything was happening was when I looked at the date. And I started to cry. It made driving back home interesting.

I battled the emotions for the afternoon. The treadmill gave me no solace. The local coffee shop didn't help. I tried reading - nope, the angst stayed. The cat got a cuddle while I watched a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Still - I was out of sorts.

It all came back to the date. And where my soul wanted to be. Where every fibre of my being wanted to be at that moment. And who I wanted to be with. There was no denying that fine silver thread that appears to link people across oceans no matter how many times you've tried to cut the cord.

You see, Lachlan turned 50 yesterday.

And the veil lifted.

And I had to admit to myself that despite all the work I've done on myself, and all the tears that I've shed, and the 5 am phone calls that wake me up occasionally, and the fact that he's on the other side of the world, and... and... and... and...

It finally dawned on me that there is a very small part of me that still loves this idiot.

The realisation hit like a sledgehammer some hours later as I was driving down Chapel Street on the way to meet Emm and Kitt at a screening of 2001: A Space Odyssey (I couldn't not believe the movie is 45 years old - it was only dated by the key pads and the shorts worn by the actors)

Dammit.

The full force of the Devil hit. The bargains that you make with yourself to avoid the truth. The actions you take to pacify yourself. The tactics you find yourself undertaking just to avoid the truth.

I was looking for the large, black structure in the middle of nowhere to take me where I needed to be.

The memories came back in an instant as I searched for a parking spot. For heaven's sake - it's been far too long. It's never, ever going to happen. I know this.

Yet, there is a still a small part that still loves the douche bag.

Thankfully, unlike other Devil realisations, self-preservation kicked in. The phone was not touched. The thought of sending him an email was ignored. Nothing detrimental to my sane state was forfeited. I was not going to react to this in a way that would harm myself.

I could switch off the feelings, once identified and recognised. I didn't spend my time pining or wishing or hoping. I've not gone and put myself on internet dating websites like I did one other time I tried swallowing these feelings - much to my detriment.

Nope. I just have to learn to live with this.

And move on.

I did however buy him a card to send over. It will be a bit late. Never mind. I don't like that I still know his address and postcode without having to look it up. Just have to deal with it.

Still, he doesn't need to know what I'm feeling - no matter how often the occasional email comes saying lets meet up, or when are you coming back or you know we are supposed to be together.

This is the path of the Devil. It's about facing truths. My truths - however ugly.

The card is fine. I think he'll like it. Nothing mushy or frivolous. A card that I would give to any of my friends. A normal, safe, congratulatory note penned inside. Hope you had a lovely birthday, love Pand.

The veil is back in place.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.