Category Archives: PTSD

“I’m a domestic violence survivor”

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I had to speak those words in a courtroom yesterday.

I was called for jury duty for my county. The last time I was called, I didn’t even go through a voir dire process. This time, I did. And there came a point when the judge asked people being considered for a spot on the jury if any of us had ever been the victim of a crime, or if anyone close to us had been.

He said, “Please raise your hand.”

For a split second, I thought about keeping my hand in my lap. But I couldn’t do it. I’d taken an oath.

So I raised my hand.

The rest of the prospective jurors left the room, and one by one, each of us victims had our turn with the judge, in front of the defendant, his lawyer and the prosecutor.

“So, Ms. Johnson, what is your story?” asked the judge.

Wow, what a loaded question.

“I’m a domestic violence survivor,” I said. “My daughter was also sexually molested by the same man, my ex-husband.”

The judge seemed startled, frankly. He didn’t say anything for a couple of beats. A man in his late 50s, slight, with completely gray hair — I figure he’s probably heard everything. His reaction actually startled me.

“Did these events happen simultaneously?”

Odd question.

“Well, they happened while I was married to him, and the sexual abuse continued after I divorced.”

“So you don’t know if these things happened at the same time.”

“They might have, sure. But I don’t know.”

“And did you contact the police?”

“Yes,” I said. It was true that the police got involved in my daughter’s situation. But not mine. I was always too terrified to call the police for what he was doing to me. Too risky.

“And were any charges filed?”

“No, your honor.”

“Why was that.”

“Insufficient evidence.”

And with that, it was over. I was not chosen to serve on the jury.

But the thing is, it’s not over. I did have to go back to the jury room today, but I was not called; I was released. My jury service is over, but my stress about that experience isn’t. I don’t say those words out loud very often — like, never. I don’t talk about that part of my life with many people. Almost no one except my family and my closest friends know the truth about me. Saying it out loud to people I didn’t know — I don’t care what their societal roles  were yesterday — was anxiety producing and horrible. Not to mention the fact that just stepping into a courtroom makes me want to throw up.

I’m going to bed early tonight to sleep off this stress. Hoping I’ll feel better in the morning …

Backward = forward

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Today, I started a new job, which is actually my old job that I left 3-1/2 years ago.

It’s one of the few times in my life where going backward actually means I’m going forward. How is this possible?

I’ve spent the last 3-1/2 years working in an extremely challenging work environment, culminating in a department where bullying is the norm. It’s bad enough for someone without a history of severe trauma to deal with bullying and severe daily stress, but for me, it has been emotionally and even physically devastating.

Thanks to the kindness and love of a good friend/colleague, whom I first met when I was in this role previously, I was asked to come back. Today is my first day in my new/old job, and it’s been the easiest first day ever. Familiar and friendly faces, fun work projects, nice work environment.

Honestly, it feels like I’ve been let out of prison. Or thrown a life line. Or been given a second chance. Name the cliche’, and that’s how it feels.

But the biggest reason it feels like a step forward is because now, with a really good 9-to-5 setup, I feel free.

Ironic, right? Working 9-to-5 but feeling free?

My mind is free: free to pursue my entrepreneurial goals during the rest of my time, which I’m doing actively every single day. Free to pursue my physical goals of regaining my health by going back to the gym. Free to pursue my emotional goals of (nearly) eliminating stress in my daily life and tuning in to my own voice consistently. (More on this last point in an upcoming post, something that can be very helpful to trauma survivors.)

Yes, I’m in a cubicle. But for the first time in my life, I don’t care. I feel free.

Correction: I AM FREE.

 

One less thing to feel stressed about

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Yesterday was a good day. Today is a good day, too, although it started out extremely badly.

Yesterday, I interviewed for my old job that I left 3-1/2 years ago — only, it’s not exactly like my old job. It’s better. There’s a new director, who according to everyone in the office has made things absolutely great. I would be reporting to a different supervisor, who also has an excellent reputation. I would be working alongside one of my best friends.

But what made yesterday so special was the reception I received from all the people there who know me and with whom I used to work. Hugs upon hugs, wonderfully genuine greetings of affection.

It felt so nice to feel appreciated and liked by so many people, every one of whom said, “Please, come back. We miss you, and things are so much better here now.”

I left with a job offer.

Which leads me to today, when I had a PTSD meltdown this morning, before going to work, about having to tell my current supervisor that I’m leaving. If you clicked on that link just now about my supervisor, you’ll recall that I am in a workplace that’s filled with cliques and bullying. And she is the ringleader.

So it was no small feat for me to walk into her office today and tell her that I intend to accept this other job offer.

You know what she said?

“Congratulations.”

She seemed surprised and speechless. We talked for a few minutes about what she needed from me in the short term — details about my projects and so forth — and that was it.

Now I’m just waiting for the HR wheels to turn.

And I’m exhausted.

I realized today that the past six months of working in this particular office have really taken a toll on me. In fact, my entire experience of working at this institution, as a whole, has been extremely challenging. I have two reasons for taking my old job in another department: a) because I know the job, it’s easy, and I like the people there, and b) I need a paycheck. Otherwise, I’d dump everything and focus all my energy on developing my own business, with the help of all I’m learning in Marie Forleo’s B-School.

That’s not a choice I have right now, so I’m focusing on the fact that leaving this workplace is giving me one less thing to feel stressed about. As it is, I’m giving almost all my “free” time to creating a new business — a process I’m totally loving, by the way. Without the stress of this particular job, I believe I can do even more, even faster. I don’t want to set a timeline for myself, but my goal is to have a profitable business that I can live on in 12 months.

And I don’t feel stressed about that at all. Only happy. How about that? I actually feel happy.

 

Workplace bullying and PTSD are not a good combination

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I started a new job four months ago, and right away I knew something was “off” in the office. It literally took me one day to realize it, when I went to a lunchtime birthday party for someone in the office — again, my first day — and no one, literally no one, talked to me. No one introduced me or welcomed me. Nothing.

I thought, at first, that maybe I was misreading cues.

Well, I wasn’t misreading anything.

I’m working in an office dominated by a “clique,” and the ringleader is one of the two people I report to. Believe it or not, it feels just like high school: a small clique isolates other people, plays pranks on them, humiliates them and so forth. But the “teacher” — in our case, our director — is fooled because around him, they act like angels.

It is really sick. Really, really sick.

As the weeks have gone on, I’ve noticed that I’m not the only one being targeted, so it’s not necessarily personal against me. But in the past two months, particularly, the bullying behavior has escalated to an almost daily occurrence, in one way or another.

While I don’t want to give specific examples here, I will say this: My body was telling me that something was wrong within the first two weeks of my starting this job. I have developed panic attacks, which I’ve never had before, along with insomnia and serious intestinal problems, neither of which I can ever recall having.

On top of that, this clique’s behavior — mind games, setting traps to make me look stupid and literally laughing at me in front of other people — is causing PTSD symptoms to flare up. That feeling of walking through a mine field every day, of wondering how people are going to treat me and never being sure … it’s a recipe for serious problems for me (and for anyone, actually).

Clearly, I need to get out of this situation, and fast.

I’m taking steps to do that, starting with official channels where I work. While I don’t feel stressed about having to make these “exit strategy” decisions, I do feel stressed from being in such an incredibly toxic environment. I didn’t think it was possible, but this is the worst work environment I have ever worked in. Ever. And I’ve been working for almost 40 years; I started working at my father’s company when I was 13 years old.

What’s really sad is that I like the work itself. I’m making a difference, people are noticing my results and my professionalism, and I’m gaining the respect of people I admire.

But all of that will be gone sometime soon, because I will have to leave a job I like and do well because of a bullying clique. I heard that at least two other people were forced out in years past because of this kind of mistreatment.

I’m also planning on seeing my doctor and my trauma therapist again. I need help to cope with this until I have a definite plan to leave.

Isn’t this sad? I finally found a job that I actually LIKE doing, earning a good salary and working with really interesting people — doctors, researchers, Nobel Prize winners, Pulitzer Prize winners — and I have to give it up because of 3 people who have nothing better to do than bully people.

I will not tolerate being abused. Period. Abuse in the workplace? Absolutely no way that I will allow it to happen, no matter what tough decisions I have to make to get away from it.