"I was the target of workplace bullying!" There you go, I've said it. It's taken me nearly a year to use those words, but now I can do it. I still struggle to use the word "victim"because even though I know better (due to intensive weekly, sometimes bi-weekly therapy and long term hospitalisation) the word "victim" still infers weakness in my mind so I steer away from it. The thing is that I don't consider myself weak, rather the contrary. I was strong enough to endure humiliation, intimidation and isolation for longer than I imagine most people would. I was strong right to the very end. Even as I collapsed on my way to work unable to walk or coherently talk, I still insisted that I should somehow work. I needed to work. There was so much work that needed to be done. If only I could stop the uncontrollable tears (something very foreign to me as I didn't EVER cry) and control my legs in order to stand up, then surely I could fix myself up in the bathroom and soldier on. But my body was not under my brain's control anymore at all and no matter how much I willed myself to pull it together, it didn't happen. It was as if my brain was a puzzle that had been thrown up into the air and dropped onto the ground. Pieces were scattered everywhere and it would be a long, slow process to figure out how they would all go back together.
But there were many signs that things weren't right that morning before arriving in the car to my workplace. There is still a whole section of that morning that I don't remember. It's as if something snapped in my brain during the night and when I woke my mind had left my body. But I wasn't asleep very long if at all that night because I can clearly remember spending most of the night pacing the house, ruminating about the events at work the day before, where a series of bullying incidents had escalated beyond anything that had happened previously. I was used to feeling like the faithful dog who was forever working for a little pat on the head, but instead each time I tried harder I was kicked into the dirt. I would get back up, dust myself off and find something else to achieve in hope that things would change, forever the optimist. But this time it was a sucker punch to the guts, the kind that causes permanent damage. The kind you don't recover from....
As I paced the house my mind was racing, my body was shaking. I had reached a point where I didn't know what to do and I was scared and hurt and I was annoyed with myself because I was out of solutions. I must think of something before the morning. I looked at the clock and it was 3am. I'd been pacing and searching for 5 hours and I didn't have the answers. 4am, I need to try to get some sleep. After that things went blank. My husband has filled in the gaps of the first few hours of the morning. I was unable to shower or dress myself, he had to help me. The first I remember of the morning is walking into the kitchen and my two children looked at me in a very strange way, as if they didn't recognise the person they were looking at. They looked scared and worried which confused me and made me feel disoriented. I couldn't stand up for long. I was weak and hadn't eaten properly for a few days, something that I had started to do as I became more and more unhappy with myself and my life. I sat down and started to cry and I couldn't stop. I was exhausted.
My husband knew I was in no shape to drive so he bundled me into the passenger seat and we dropped the kids off to school. I shudder to think back what was going through their minds that morning. I wish they never saw what they did, but it was only the beginning. After the kids, we drove to the car park of my workplace. My husband could see there was no hope of getting me out of the car. He called a colleague to come out and see us. She immediately knew things were grim and had a quiet word to him on the side. He immediately started making phone calls and I could hear him asking for an emergency medical appointment. I insisted that I'd be ok. I just needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts. Deep down I knew that wasn't true because my head was spinning so fast that I was dizzy and nauseous. My thoughts were disjointed and confused and the more I tried to decipher them, the more I started to panic. My heart was racing so quickly that it felt like my body could not keep up. I was struggling to breathe. My hands were sweaty and trembling. Panic overtook my whole body with such force that it wasn't until we drove out of the car park and several kilometres down the road that I could start to breathe normally again.
The doctor asked me many questions and I answered as best I could until the last question. "Have you had any thoughts of suicide?". The room went completely quiet. I felt myself starting to panic again. This is not a question anyone would like to answer with your life partner sitting next to you. I had to tell the truth. While pacing the house for hours on end, ruminating about the bullying, alienation and intimidation, knowing that our mortgage depended on my salary, searching for a solution but nothing came, the thought of checking out had become a desperate option. I lowered my head in shame and answered the question.
My doctor seemed shocked by the description I gave of the previous day at work and the state that I was in. I was sent home to rest and an urgent appointment was booked with a psychologist for the first available time The doctor insisted that I rest and that my husband screen all phone calls to ensure no more stress could reach me. I felt a comforting moment in the middle of the turmoil. I felt an unfamiliar feeling of protection, as if my doctor and my husband were providing a temporary safety zone around me. For the first time in such a long time I could let my guard down just for a little while. Lying in my bed I sank into a coma-like state for several days wondering how my life had come to this. I was conscious but unable to sleep or eat, I was not capable of reading, listening to music or watching TV because my senses were on overload. My brain was chattering so loudly and relentlessly that I could not cope with any other sound or stimulus. I lay for hours on end day after day in my bed, hoping for a break from the chatter. Every inch of my body was exhausted to the point where I felt physical pain through most of my body. I tried not to move around as it hurt too much and I started to think that maybe I had cancer or some horrible disease because the pain was becoming agonising. My children came to visit me in my bed every few hours over the weekend and after school. They would kiss me on the forehead and give me handmade cards wishing me to get well. I would smile and thank them and pretend that I was ok, but I had no conversation to offer, I was too exhausted to speak.
Now, 331 days since my initial collapse, my mind is finally at a point where I can verbalise what has happened. I can discuss my story without shame and embarrassment. Ok, not totally without these things, but I'm working on it. Previously I was a senior manager working very long hours and with very big responsibilities. Now, 331 days later I am still unfit to work, suffering extreme anxiety and depression and stabilised by strong medication both morning and night. So this is my blog, my own form of therapy as I embark on the biggest challenge of all, finding justice and attempting to prevent others from shattering into a million pieces like I did. Now that I am learning to care about myself again, instead of loathing and harming myself I am working on loving myself and my life and discovering that I do have rights. In fact, there is a "Bill of Basic Human Rights" that was explained to me by one of my treating doctors:
1. The right to act in ways that promote your dignity and self respect (as long as others' rights are not violated in the process)
2. The right to be treated with respect
3. The right to say 'No' and not feel guilty
4. The right to experience and express your feelings
5. The right to take time to slow down and think
6. The right to change your mind
7. The right to ask for what you want
8. The right to do less than you are humanly capable of doing
9. The right to ask for information
10. The right to make mistakes
11. The right to feel good about yourself.
Source: Jacobowski & Lange. The assertive option
But that's all I can write for today, because it's our wedding anniversary and we are going out to dinner, the four of us. That is something I haven't done in a long time due to a lengthy battle with agoraphobia. I'm feeling the anxiety growing inside me now as I prepare myself for the event. Last time I attempted going out to dinner it was sadly spoilt by stomach pains caused by extreme anxiety. But I'm determined to make progress so I'm trying again.
"Entangled by the bonds of hate, he who seeks his own happiness by inflicting pain on others, is never delivered from hatred.~ Dhammapada 291"
No comments:
Post a Comment