This morning, Tinkerbell and Oliver were talking about my replacement. Apparently, she is a friend of a friend and showed up at Tinkerbell's house yesterday, wearing a suit. She can start May 1.
Oh, boo hoo. Poor me. I went into an instant tailspin.
As I recently reported to my psychopharmacologist, these days the only thing that puts me in the gray sloppy mire of suicidal ideation is when my livelihood is cast into question.
So yes, I started thinking. Give this to that person. Get serious about writing a will.
And then I thought - hold on.
I have been through too damn much in my life to let Tinkerbell pull me down like a rhino at the feet of Delios ("300"). My mother didn't kill me. My grandfather didn't kill. My father didn't kill me. My husband didn't kill me and I am very damn sure some 110 lb chicky with bad hair, bad skin, and a padded bra is not going to kill me. Oliver the alcoholic is not going to kill me. No.
No.
I thought for a moment. Now. How can I get myself to where I want to be? How can I get myself to where I once was, much beloved of my bosses? I kept thinking.
Well. Queen Bee is quite big on mentoring. I also know she is crazy-busy. Still, I wrote her an email, asking if she would consider being my work mentor. And that I understand she is crazy-busy.
In the meantime (without the aid of pharmaceuticals, mind you), I decided to suck it up. Have courage, I told myself. Stop running away.
Ten years of work-related PTSD gets put aside today. It will be dealt with as I go along. But I am going along.
I don't know how long I have left at Big Finance. I felt a little nostalgic today about sending email to Little Pearl, one of the business analysts. I wish I had enjoyed the 3,000 foot perspective I got today much earlier. But I didn't. And now I know better.
Although I push my recruiter along a little bit, I'm also not going to rely on her getting me out of this. I'll keep looking myself.
And as a service to myself, to my credit, to my self-confidence and self-respect, I will do my job.
I had moaned a little to the Queen Bee when I saw her this weekend. I told her of Tinkerbell's antics and she said, "That's harassment. You should go to HR."
Please, sister. Please. I am as nothing. I am a contractor. It would do me no good to go to HR or to my boss. The Worried Man said that no one can touch Tinkerbell. For some reason no one can figure out, she's untouchable.
(I have tried without success to find documents that she has written, but she does a devilish good job of hiding them in the shared libraries.)
So. Tinkerbell, merely a funny figure in the rear view mirror.
I've got to get up, stand up. Stand up for myself. And know when to move on.
2 comments:
See this is where church has so much value for me. It's so reaffirming to my soul and self esteem. But like anything else, you only get out what you put in. We all need a little reaffirming. We're basically all very insecure, but deal with it in many different ways.
At least you see it and are working on it. Good luck.
Yes, you are stronger than you realize.
Sometimes we know what we have to do, but we don't do it because we are discouraged. Almost like we're daring Fate to stomp on us. I'm happy to see you standing up and kicking back. That can only lead to better things.
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