For the team

This job was a good and a hard experience.  I’ve been wondering why I put up with sexual harrassment.  First it was a whistle in the hall.  Then it was winking.  Then he paced outside my office a couple times trying to get eye contact-which I refused to give him.  Then the last time in the coffee room, I was standing next to the coffee maker and he wanted next to the creamer and he (I guess) shimmied me out of the way. But it was a full body side contact that was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

I confronted him a million times in my head, actually I did every morning on my drive to work.  I thought about how I would say it.  I didn’t feel like I could go to my boss without confronting him first, because I’m a “big girl” and I should be able to fight my own fights.

The other problem was logistical.  We rarely ran into each other.  So, I would be ready, and then ready, and then ready and then finally relax and then he would be there.  Since it was both of our jobs to be out of the office pretty much, we rarely crossed paths so when we did it was an issue.  You just couldn’t time it.

I was retisent to confront because at every corporate job I have ever had, I have dealt with sexual harrassment.  And since I am obviously the common denominator, I wanted to know if there was something in me that attracted this.  But, should I start lopping off parts of my personality?

Last night, I was thinking about it and there were like 40 guys there and three women.  The guys had this great comaraderie.  I didn’t want to spoil it.  I knew that if I told that it would be a big deal, there would be paperwork and drama.  And I didn’t want to be the new girl who changes the culture.  The feminist in me was having a rally and trying to burn my own bra in protest, it was itchy.

I thought about all the women empowerment speeches I’ve given and I felt really ashamed.  I sure feel powerful when I have a microphone, where is my voice without one?

I realized how much I had emotionally invested in keeping the peace amomg the men-folk, at my own risk.  I realized how much punishment I still take (self imposed) to keep peace, even when there shouldn’t be peace.

There shouldn’t have been peace.  I didn’t need to get bothered at work because I’m female and then not talk about it and be nervous and hypervigilant about it because I’m me.

Next time, and I’m sure there will be a next time.  I’ll just try to tell the truth.  But the truth makes me wanna hurl, I’d rather just take the cathartic beating and get the confrontation over with.

comfort

You know how you walk into a hot shower and the water envelops you and every muscle in your body relaxes?  You just exhale and you are covered in comfort and softness and just a silent moment of peace?

I got a message on my facebook from somebody I met once who made a big, sweet impression on me.  She commented about a blog post of mine, that I have permission to share.

“Hi FB! You may not remember me – we met at a party at xxxx’s house a couple years ago, and I thought you were lovely, funny and all-around awesome. You and your boyf had recently started dating, I think, and I am so happy to hear that you’re still together all this time later! I’m not much of a Facebooker, but I log in occasionally and I’ve read some of your Feisty Boots posts – what an amazing journey you’re on. Thank you for sharing it with us and being “out” about the cult abuse; you’re brave to confront the long-term effects of their conditioning and I think, ultimately, the blog will be a large part of your healing. After all, in writing it, you’re doing what they told you NEVER to do: telling the truth in public and saying it loud. Regarding the most recent post about losing your job: honey, fuck ‘em. I’m a therapist, and I’m here to tell you that PTSD will NOT rule your life forever. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing; sooner than you imagine, PTSD will revert to being just one chapter in the book of your life, not the whole book. The circumstances that caused the PTSD will always be part of your history, but the acute PTSD symptoms will recede. Until then, be as patient and gentle with yourself as you would with a frightened child. You WERE that frightened child, and since no one protected her or stood up for her when she needed it, it’s HER fear you’re feeling now. Feel it. Notice that it passes – kind of like a seizure, no? You don’t die of it. And you won’t have PTSD-induced panic attacks forever. Remind Little FB that she’s safe now; the worst is over. Only the aftershocks remain. But while you’re in this acute phase, it’s OK to avoid the things that trigger you. If you knew a little girl who was deathly afraid of churches, would you make her enter 30 of them? ‘Course not. You and the little girl inside you deserve that same kindness and understanding. Talented as you are, you’ll find other work – that’s not going to be a big issue. And I do hope you find a good therapist, someone who’s worked with trauma survivors and can help you manage the anxiety symptoms. Are there survivor websites or online communities you’ve connected with? Sometimes they can be a good source of referrals. Meantime, please know I’m thinking of you and sending long-distance hugs… xoxo”

In a cold time of uncertainty, this response made me feel held, loved and hopeful.  Thank you sweetheart.

Thursday

I was right, I don’t have a job.

PTSD sucks.

But hey, I found a new phone app called PTSD manager where I can track my symptoms and maybe that’ll help it be more manageable.  I remember when I used to be able to hold down a job and be awesome.  I wonder if that will happen again.

yesterday

OK: Here’s the lead up…

Therapy: I was seeing a therapist and she was ok.  But I was about to get insurance in 2 months through my work.  I didn’t want to bond with her.  I asked her to refer me to a therapist in the same program who took my future insurance so that when the insurance came we could transition.  This took forever, and then the New Year turned and I wasn’t reenrolled in the program.  Now I have no therapist and don’t qualify for the program.

Work:  This has been a terrible sales month.  In fact, last month was awesome.  This month terrible for everybody.  I was also working through a sickness for two weeks.  This shouldn’t make me worry, but this month is the end of my three month probation.  And I am ill at ease.  So my hypervigilance, paranoia, the whole ptsd package has been kicking in.  And without therapy to balance it, it’s been even worse.  Pretending not to be a crazy person at work has been excruciatingly exhausting.

Also, a coworker has taken to whistling, winking and now there’s been a rubbing incident that I need to deal with.  I wasn’t in the mood for sexual harassment.  That is one of the main reasons I became self employed.

My boss wanted me to revisit the church industry project and since I’m a pussy, I said yes.  I tried.  But that really led me to sitting in the car for two hours crying.  My job was to walk into a church and say hi.  I couldn’t move and I couldn’t get out.  I was just so terrified of who was behind that door.  I was terrified of the list of 30 more churches I had to see that week.

I was supposed to meet up with my boss to do a few together, but when we communicated it was obvious I was crying in the field (how embarrassing).  So I was sent home to “take care of myself”.

I wonder if I still have a job.

I wonder if I should have a job.

I wonder if I can have a job.

I sure need revenue.

But I can’t have a job right now where I am social every day.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m so angry, because it wasn’t too long ago when I had my business and I could do anything and everything, or so if felt.  But I really think I could hide a lot of this stuff because we were creating our own reality.

I have noticed a lot of entrepreneurs are survivors of trauma as well.  Maybe being the master of our own reality is how we coped.

Universal Call Out

The first time was at a mixer a few months ago.  I was talking to a brilliant, charming man in a fez.  How could you not love a guy in a fez? It was a great conversation.  I would wear a fez, but my head is far too round and giant.  He told me what he did and it was awesome.  I told him what I did, “How can that be your passion?”  He wasn’t rude, he was genuine.  I was side-swiped.  I did what I did, like Rumpelstiltskin I told him that it was.  I stomped my straw of a lie and smiled pretty and tried to sell him gold.  I felt like I had sullied what had been one minute a go a true, real, human experience.  Curses.  Gross.

Hi, I’m Feisty Boots.  I am here on this planet to use my life experiences as a means of illumination against spiritual abuse in the world.  I write and speak so that people who have been hurt by leaders and family who have claimed that their abusive power came from a divine source don’t feel alone.  I believe that the unheard victim can get back on the wheel of abuse and become an abuser and I want to do what I can to stop that cycle.  I have seen the foulest of human nature and been told that it is the love of god and having broken free from that.  I write out those experiences and that process so that others in similar situations can take heart.

That’s a scary thing to say out loud.  Wish I had the guts that day.  Yesterday I met with two people for business and ended up talking about this anyway.  They were far more interested in this.

A woman with experience is in my life and she has some great ideas, I think I will start a step at a time.  Let’s see if I can work this transition.

“You Are Nothing?”

I was once told by my friend Dr. Dar that I was a Spiritual Warrior.  I know that I have an energy that attracts spiritual confrontation and won’t step down from a challenge.  I am grateful that I was able to stay within good boundaries at the challenge issued last night in my place of work.

I am working on the church industry project and yes after last night I have to get out.  My boundaries are far too fluffy and the water cooler chat is too volatile with this project.  If I am asked what’s up and I respond.  I will get triggered.  Nobody is trying to do this to me, except there are jokes and other egos at play and when you work with jokesters who shouldn’t know that you are a trauma landmine…..

me:  I got hung up on by 3 Baptist churches and yelled at by a Hindu priest today.
him:  Wow that says a lot about Hindus…
(boggle)
me:  What about Baptists?
him:  Well Baptists are just like that.
(And that’s a Bible Belt joke, I don’t get it.  But it means he’s not a Baptist.)
me:  Well there was a huge language barrier with the Hindu priest and they were frustrated and I called the Temple not the office.
(he stares at me)
him:  Well, I’ve never gotten a response like that.  We’re you (silence) you know….
me:  no, I don’t know.
him:  You know…
me:  What?
him: come on…
me:  Female?  Red headed? what? I can’t know unless you finish your sentence.
him:  no
me:  hmmmmmm
(and I realize that he always does this and let’s people finish sentences, leaving him off the hook, kind of.  I am fascinated and I don’t want to play mad libs anymore.)
him:  cordial
me:  oh, sure. I was super nice.  Is that a concern for you?  I know that I can be direct and I don’t know if that comes across abrasively in the Southern culture.  Do you think I’m abrasive?
him:  oh no.
me:  oh good.
him:  Are you (and he waves his arm)
me:  what
him:  Are you??? (waves, trying to reel words from my face)
me:  I don’t know, what?
(coworkers are peeking out of their offices)
him:  Christian?
me:  Oh no.  I’m not.
him:  Catholic
me:  nope
him:  Jewish?
me:  no
him:  anything??
me:  what?
him:  oooh Baptist?
me:  No
him:  What, you’re nothing!?!
me:  I am not nothing, I am standing here right now
him: you know what I mean (waves arm)
me:  I truly don’t

I am glad the conversation had witnesses.  Do I have to learn how to shut up?  Shutting up makes me sick.

Spiritual Self Abuse?

A lot of veterans with PTSD can’t stop watching war movies.  It is very common for people with PTSD to have trouble avoiding media that involves the subject of their trauma.  If I see a documentary on cults or religion or bible history, I will watch it obsessively.  I can’t watch movies like “Passion of the Christ” because I can’t watch violence without becoming seriously upset inside for hours.  So, I generally stick to documentaries, etc.

This is compulsive behavior for me, and since I got dealt OCD from my PTSD and have been living in a lot of stress with a new job and no stuff…  It’s been acting up.  Like my eating disorder and trichotillomania (2 not 1 for those keeping track at home) have been acting up.  I’ve been really angry for this mess of wiring in my head, and I’m still hunting for a good fit in a therapist.

“Well, you’re in the Bible belt”, is something I hear a lot at work.  And I need to learn to not let my compulsions out of my mouth via words at work.  Because one of the most successful industries here is the “church industry”, and I have been tasked with a project involving the “church industry”.  I could have turned it down in the beginning, but I didn’t want to and I was so intrigued.  But it would have been the most self-loving thing to do.

While working on this project, it’s brought a lot of churchy energy around me.  People see me working with media and iconography.  I am really into it, because I am marketing to churches and I can’t wait to see if it works.  I am so fascinated by this challenge, you know and nauseated.  People come into my work space and talk and then they talk to me about their faith.  I should probably put up some kind of boundary, but I don’t because I am sickly fascinated by how every one of them has translated and integrated a book differently.  It’s so interesting.

Yesterday was a hard day though.  I got whistled at in the hall.  I believe this was meant as a compliment.  I almost lost my shit.  To me it feels like.  Don’t forget that someone is always watching you.  Even when you think you are alone in a hallway, someone is watching you and sexualizing you.  Don’t forget you are never safe.  I told my coworker and he said that was an awesome compliment and he wishes he would get whistled at.  So that sucked.  Yesterday when this coworker said, “well you’re in the Bible belt…”  I told him that I never wanted suspenders so bad.

Then when wrapping up phase 1 of my project (yay I get a break!!!).  Someone was talking to me about their beliefs and it was ok.  He’s an animated talker.  I was sitting, he was standing.  He was talking about how people think that god the father will punish us forever in hell.  Then he said, “would a father punish a child forever?”  When he said that he was moving his arm for dramatic effect, his arm was over my head and I was looking up.  This had the effect of making me very small feeling.  His arm was coming down repeatedly (like ten times) and his hand was in the exactly grip that Pastor’s was when he was holding the PVC pipe.

I didn’t cry.

I talked to him about his loving views.  He smiled and went away.  Defense systems passed the test and all was well.  I came home about 5 hours later and lost my shit.  It was a bad day at work.  I didn’t want to go to bed, because we can’t sleep together and I really wanted to snuggle up.  So I’m up after 4.5 hours sleep ready to bang out the last day of the work week.  Tired, fragile.

good ol boys

The South is fantastic and weird.  It is so beautiful here.  I work with about 38 guys and two other girls.  I am very grateful that my experience has trained me for environments like this.  Especially since my professional environments have been high in vitamin estrogen since I left corporate IT.

It’s interesting to talk to the other two women, they are at that place where they don’t know if they can trust women in the workplace.  I am modeling trustworthiness to them.  I am modeling good will, because I remember when I was there.

I have been confronted toe to toe about my knowledge and experience by the alpha male, in public.  I think he regrets that.  He thought this California girl would be a push over.  He thought that having his guys around would intimidate me.  But I am so grateful for my experience in public confrontation (thanks cult!!).  In public speaking, in business, in everything.  I had one hell of a tit for his tat.  And he has 20 years of experience in this technical industry, but when I pulled my 16 years of technical experience together and shot back.  His guys started to back down and walk away. Hit the bully once, big, publicly and with humor not anger (like he had).  Now he minds his own business and I got cred.

I wasn’t going to come out as bisexual because I am trying to practice personal boundaries and I didn’t want people all up in my business.  And I didn’t want the whispers and chortling of being a bi-chick among dudes.  I didn’t want that to be the only thing they remembered about me.  I at least wanted my 90 day probation to be overwith.  But I messed up the “pronoun game”.  And said she when talking about my ex, instead of letting them assume he.  It was only in front of my manager.  After that he had a vacation planned and he came back and it’s not an issue.  Except that he told me he’s too ugly to be gay.

Politically correct doesn’t really happen here and that is actually extremely refreshing to me.  Because they don’t care if you walk away if you don’t want to hear it.  And I do feel perfectly comfortable walking away.  I love that they’ve only known me at this age.  Everyone else has known me as a younger me, and people don’t see me as especially  young here.  That’s really liberating.

Everyone is mostly awesome and sweet.  Lots of Southern charm.  I love it.

back in the saddle

The scene: A restaurant in North Carolina: women are gathering for a business networking event.  FeistyBoots enters feeling confident and comfortable, she knows this world.  It is this Leo’s domain.

The women sit to introduce themselves and talk.  FB is not accustomed to the format, but revels in not being in charge (mostly).  They perform an exercise where they are taught to create a speakers bio and FB finds this to be valuable because she hasn’t had to define herself professionally in a long time and now is as good a time as any.

FB has written hers and she thinks she’s quite clever, she usually thinks she is.  She’s ready to shine her humor on the group when someone raises their hand to go first.  They stand and read their bio.  They are a marriage and family therapist.  They specialize in loss, trauma and PTSD.  Her bio is warm but clinical, she’s got a lot of certifications to say and that can be hard while keeping an audiences interest.

She sits.

The therapist gets constructive criticism.  “Can you add more punch?  Like have YOU suffered from TRAUMA?”  “Does anyone you know have PTSD?”  Who in your family has died?

PTSD enters the restaurant.  I shudder.

I speak up.  I say as I try not to shake, “Well, this is a delicate situation, because you are talking to an anonymous group of people.  And you never know who has experienced trauma, loss or who has PTSD.  And you don’t want the effect of your introduction and marketing effort to be triggering.”  Professions like yours walk a pretty fine line.

I hear several “Oh, that makes senses, etc”.

“FB did you want to go next?”

“Sure”

I do my intro, it was not the angelic aria of awesome that I was expecting because I was feeling feelings but it came out great.

Afterwards she thanked me for my input and said it felt spot on.  I didn’t tell her I had PTSD.  I told her someone close to me was a therapist and I had had that conversation before.  I didn’t want to tell her because she had her event hat on.

And I used to hate it at events when someone who wasn’t a client would start explaining computer problems to me…  “How come when I right click my screen turns purple?”

Cause you are clicking a paint ball gun?

Thar be pirates

Ye Swarthy Jack Asses

Ye Swarthy Jack Asses

A month ago we packed all of our belongings from Oakland, CA and set sail to Raleigh, NC.  OK well, we didn’t pack all of our belongings and we drove.  E was (appropriately) nervous about professional movers from the start.  He devised a system: we pack the stuff that we would be devastated if lost with us in the car. The stuff that it would be really bad we UPS’d to my brother who lives near our destination.  Everything else that is just stuff, even though we love it (like our bed and art, kitchen, most of our clothes, bikes, etc…) would be packed with the movers.  I thought this was a great idea.

I called many movers, I had a spreadsheet.  I filled out many online forms requesting online estimates.  I talked to many and gave inventories.  We researched: checked Yelp, the Department of Transportation, the Better Business Bureau.  It was thorough, thoroughly exhausting and thoroughly lame.  The one we chose specialized in cross country moves, so they had a good price for it.

I had a good rapport with the sales person and she said that since we had such a small space that a phone estimate would be fine.  I gave her an inventory of all of the stuff we had in our wee little studio.  She said that the 2,000 pound package should be fine. We did some more research, called her back and then signed up. The contract came with a free month of storage as well.

He and I purged some furniture and our bed frame as well as many books and clothes leading up to the move. We had so little, we knew that would make a difference. We wanted to come under the 2,000 and also we knew some of his furniture would serve his family better than it would serve us so we gave it to them. And the only furniture I have is a red dresser and a little table (less than 10 pounds).  We didn’t tell the movers we had less, since they were going to weigh everything and charge us if it was over-I didn’t think an itemized list mattered anymore. On 9/12/11, they arrived. As soon as the mover walked in he said it would be way over 2,000LBs.  doom

They loaded everything into a 16foot truck. Our goods took up half of it, or less. We had been told originally that we would need to pay 70% of the contract of at pickup. He said that since the amount weighed more that we should pay more and pressured me into signing a contract with a blank amount and walked away with a check from us for more than the original contract amount. Our stuff was on the truck and he told me that if I didn’t sign it he would be fired.   I hate that I caved in, but I was so tired and overwhelmed.  I still genuinely thought it would be sorted out properly when weighed.  Most of this stuff had previously fit in a 5×5 storage unit and been moved in a 10 foot truck.  Not a lot of stuff…

He said we would be called the next day with a weight and a new contract price. We then got in our car to drive across the country. He said they were supposed to do two more moves in that truck and then drive back to LA to weigh our items. When they called us on 9/14, the general manager told me that our items weighed 6,200 LBS and that our new remaining total was now $4377.00 more than we had already paid.  And that we needed to pay $2487.90 to complete the down payment for our stuff to even leave LA and we owe another $1709.10 once our items are delivered in North Carolina. I was in shock. He asked me over the phone what my plan was. I asked him what other clients did when this happened to them. He said he didn’t know. I said surely in his company’s history, this had happened before. What were his client’s options? He said I needed to come up with a plan to pay him. I said he needed to prove to me that my items weighed 6,200 pounds. I told him to email me a list of weights; I had to know what weighed so much. And since we were at this point driving through the desert of Nevada on fumes already stressed about running out of gas in the dark, I needed to see it in writing.

I emailed him back that I wanted them weighed again with a witness of mine there. He said he would reweigh it but never addressed that I wanted a witness. I called and he told me to pay him. I said he had to prove that my goods could weigh so much. I remembered that our goods were picked up in a 16 foot budget truck and I looked up the specs and saw that a 16 foot budget truck could only carry a max payload of 3,400 pounds. When I confronted him with that, he told me that it was a 24. It wasn’t. That wouldn’t have fit on my street and the lift that was on the back of that truck isn’t on the 24s. Now, they just refuse to return my calls. My message is the same. Prove to me that my items weigh that much. If you could weigh it once, you should be able to weigh it again with a witness. Or deliver my items for the amount of the original contract we signed. I opened a BBB complaint. They are supposedly working on it. However, we drove across the country for two weeks and now we have been living on the floor of a beautiful apartment in North Carolina for two and a half weeks. Thankfully we thought ahead and packed an air mattress.

There is no way we have three tons of stuff.  I called other moving companies and asked that if they were required to move 6,200 pounds of stuff how big of a space would you think I had?  I got one answer of a two bedroom house with a garage and another answer of a three bedroom house.  My sister in law found the bill of lading from her cross country move and their three bedroom place (with some pretty big furniture) and three kids and it was less than 6,000 pounds.

Since then we filed a complaint with the Department of Transportation and since they are so out of line, they are assigning us a hostage expert to investigate our case.

Now we blow up our air mattress every night, stretch in the morning and try to keep the process along.  We have a skillet and a sauce pan. We have our laptops and phones.  We have the things that we packed in case anything went wrong with the movers.  We have the cats.  I’ve had a couple job interviews and had to shop before each one.

It’s been exactly a month and we are still doing what we can do to get it back.  We shall see.

Pirates are dicks.