I Have A Little List

I have a piece of paper hanging taped to the support beam on my side desk. 

Not MY petition but A petition

I’m debating the good it does. It’s a debate that will go on for a while.’

The paper is a petition, dated Dec. 29, 2015 and signed by eight co-workers and presented by two other employees to top management where I work. 

Basically, without naming me (cowards) they asked management to protect them from an employee (me) who was using “inappropriate, threatening and alarming language,” and asked management to provide a “safe, secure environment” moving forward.

The petition was ginned up by a former boss and pseudo-management co-worker, who took the ‘incident’ of Dec. 19, 2015 and ran with it in an attempt to get me fired. I don’t need to recount that sorry tale again – you can read it here.

The member of management who received the letter asked for written statements containing specific allegations from the people who signed. None ever came. No specific instances, no dates, times or locations were ever forwarded. Of the 10 people who had anything to do with this petition, five are gone and five remain.

The echo of the HR hack at my last interrogation still rings in my head: “the people up there you think are your friends are the ones that are reporting on you.

Yesterday, I sat in my office, on the far side of the floor, isolated and alone. This is the usual day for me nowadays. I try very hard to keep to myself and communicate with co-workers only when work needs to be done. I have exempted myself from all further get-togethers as a stray innocent remark made at a luncheon in June was used against me. 

And yesterday, the lonesomeness and isolation was making a mess of my mind. No matter how many distractions aside from my normal work I can indulge in, it’s tough to maintain a façade when your co-workers are outside your door, having an animated conversation with your supervisor. 

And you’re not a part of it. I could step out with a smile on my face and a “hey guys, what’s happening,” and watch the conversation die and the group break up. I can’t bear that.

So, back to the petition I have on my desk.

The reason I have it there is to get it through my thick skull that as bad as I want to have some human contact (I won’t even go so far as to say ‘have friends’) in this office, that the atmosphere has become poisoned enough that the HR hack’s warning (and my union rep’s warning) that I have no friends here.

" . . .a BLABBERMOUTH!"

And that I have to keep my big mouth shut. Because bipolar people tend to be notorious blabbermouths. Ask me how I know.

 

I really thought I could handle this. But every day that goes by gets just a little bit harder and it wears me down. 

I sit in silence and dread the sound of people approaching my door, coming up the stair, off the elevator or hearing the phone ring. I dread opening every email addressed to me. I didn’t used to be this way. 

I don’t know how NOT to be hyper-vigilant anymore. 

I’ve been this way since my mom’s health started to go downhill which was in the summer of 2008 and my bookstore started to fail because of the economy. Then I had to sell the bookstore in the fall of 2009 and move to South Dakota for a job in December of that year. Then I had to spend the next year (2010) with my bags packed waiting to fly to Cleveland whenever my mom would take another turn for the worst.

Then in December 2010, I started the job with the VA in Pittsburgh and moved here. From the very beginning there was a good deal of stress as my job duties and expectations were never clearly given to me and I never received one whit of training. It was ‘stumble as you go.’ At the same time, my mother’s health continued to decline and I eventually became her power of attorney and executor of her will. During the period 2011-12 I was constantly spending my weekends in Cleveland with my wife and arranging both my mother’s care and the disposition of our family home. This was NOT a very good period in my life. 

Mom passed away in December 2012. It took six more months to settle the estate and satisfy all the obligations. I really didn’t even have time to grieve. I still don’t think I have as I tend to avoid all the family albums in the basement, especially the ones from the last five years of my mom’s life.

Then in October 2013, the man who hired me left one step ahead of his own dismissal. Like many VA managers, a friend set him up in another part of the organization. I did not realize at the time, that this man had been my protection. I didn’t even know I needed protection. 

What followed then was a procession of detailed managers and two ‘permanent managers each of who lasted less than a year apiece and presided over tumultuous times for our section. The first one flooded the zone with new hires in the spring of 2014, many of whose names were on that petition. They were hired in order to get this manager a higher pay grade. When he didn’t get it, he left, but not before using his new people to gradually strip me of all the media relations responsibilities I had had under my old boss. I went from being the ‘go-to’ guy to being the superfluous clerk. 

He didn’t like me. It wasn’t a secret. He was influenced by others in the section who wanted to purge the people from the old regime. Had he stayed around long enough he might have succeeded. I called him on that and his lack of management effectiveness. I’m sure he didn’t like that either. I’m also sure he and the other employees in his little mafia briefed the new manager when he took over in March 2015.

It also strikes deep. Into your life it will creep.

I know this sounds like paranoia but it’s true. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has faced this situation. The new boss was worse than the last one. Within three months of his hire, the incident of June 8, 2015 happened which led to where I am now.

Eight years of looking behind my back. Eight years of worry and fear. More shrinks, more pills, more attempts at living a life where I could relax and enjoy life without the need for pharmaceuticals. 

Even if the magic job fairy came and performed a miracle for me now, I’m not sure I could dis-attach the wires and circuits that have made me what I am today – at least not for a long time. You just can’t turn it off that easily.

Goodbye to all that

First, an announcement. 

I think it is best for my own mental health at this point to drastically cut back my participation on Facebook. There are several reasons for this that I won’t bore you with but I would say the main one is that it does nothing to help my depression or associated conditions. In addition, I spend far too much time on it that could otherwise be spent on more productive activities, such as writing.

In order to help myself break this addiction, I have taken it off my sign in page for Firefox.

I find that the longer I spend on Facebook, the more depressed and upset I get. One of the things that has bothered me for a while is the constant reminders by Facebook of past posts which I would rather not be reminded of. In addition, pages that I have made for other reasons are constantly popping up in my main feed to sell me more eyes on.

In the last few days, I have pestered by Facebook to buy ads for one of these pages, featuring a photo of a woman I have never seen before.

I can be found on Twitter although I am prepared to curtail my activity there if things get out of hand, which, so far, it hasn’t. Whether it is a good platform to promote this blog is too early to tell but that is the main reason I am remaining on the service.

For many people like myself, I think we come to the point that the longer we participate in social media, the worse we feel and the more our interactions with the real world fade in obscurity. For some, this is a godsend, for others, it is dangerous to their mental health.

In the past 18 months, I have experiences a number of negative events that have put me into a position where perhaps, some pulling back of the reins can be interpreted as self-care. One of the main reasons I increased my presence on Facebook this year was not just to promote this blog but to try and enlarge my circle of friends, having lost all chance of forming lasting or even decently superficial relationships at work.

I have found, at least in my case, that it is true that you can’t go home again, nor should you try. The nature of human relationships in the digital age has changed drastically from even 15 years ago and social media, for better or worse, forms the cornerstone of our relationships to each other and the world around us. I believe this is dangerous for one main reason: the desire to be loved and accepted engenders the creation of an unreality in the way people present themselves on social media. 

For instance, old classmates are not the way your remember them. They have re-engineered themselves to the point where you wonder where the past left off and the present presents. In any case, Facebook presentations have become the digitized versions of those god-awful end of the year Christmas letters we used to get telling us the grand, glorious and god-like experiences of some distant in-law's family over the past year. With Facebook, that sort of nauseous shilling is now a 24/7 proposition. I don't know about you, but it must be exhausting constantly tending to one's personal shop window.

And, after all, this is what life is all about anyway, right?

In short, nothing is what it seems. This is not just for individuals but for corporations, media outlets and pretty much any other human endeavor that uses social media to grow their brand or whatever the term is today.

It was different in the past since there were fewer channels of communication that built more of a commonality of experience. Those of my generation remember that we had three news networks to watch, for instance, a presidential debate. Now there are countless avenues to experience this event, but more importantly, you can choose the political ideology you identify with as a lens with which to view the event.

Many herald this as liberating, and to a degree, it is. Those who claim media bias are no longer bound to watch anything that doesn’t agree with them. What they don’t realize is the way they have ghettoized themselves into their own little echo chamber that continually reinforces their worldview to the point of paranoia and fanaticism. This works for the left as well as the right, and the amazing thing is, neither side can bring themselves to admit it.

For those of us who give living in American society at least some of the blame for exacerbating our mental conditions, the only way to protect yourself is start to disengage. Merely being careful consumers of news and culture, while always recommended, is not enough. It is too easy to be influenced by repeated images, slogans and propaganda without even being consciously aware it is happening. 

The effects can be felt long after exposure, and tend to manifest themselves with anxiety, depression and even rage that seemingly comes from nowhere. These messages, even though they may reinforce our worldviews, can be so disturbing to our gentler natures, that they overwhelm our sense of empathy and rationality some point where they are generated from our subconscious in relation to some stimulus. 

I would say that the world is mad. The ongoing train wreck of this year’s presidential campaign is simply the latest and the most egregious example. Although there has always been a dark side to the Internet and social media, the tribes that Americans have sequestered themselves into are now so sharp that we are seeing raging, hate-filled flame wars between family members and long-time friends online that we have not seen since the Civil War. 

"the Democrats left us defenseless against the aliens, impeachment is the only answer"

Without going to deeply into the subject for now, I believe we stand at a very perilous time in American history. Some have described it as a turning point, which can be good or bad. I believe that no matter who wins the election, the fabric of commonality that used to unite Americans to some degree has been shattered and cannot be rebuilt. Even if there were, say, an invasion by aliens, I believe we would see furious arguments between the warring factions of the left and right on the right way to fight the invasion and who is responsible for our unpreparedness, even as our world is being destroyed.

As it is now, by our hands, being destroyed. 

It does not do me any good to continue to try to influence public opinion by way of social media. I believe now, that that way lies madness. It may be that this vast odious sandbox was indeed constructed to corral public opinion in such a way that all energy would be expanded by wars within the system, keeping them out of the streets. The fact that this has not worked in all cases, specifically with the anti-police brutality movement, is a testament to the helpless frustration of those in underprivileged communities who feel they have nothing left to lose.

Self-care for the terminally anxious and worried folks can take many forms, some of them self-destructive. But I think pulling back from the madness that is enveloping us, not a surrender to the forces of darkness, but a simply acknowledgement that for many of us, over the course of our lives, we have done the best we could. And, the effort has degraded our energy and our souls in equal measure and that it is time, in the necessity of preserving whatever peace we can find left in our souls, to disengage. 

I have fought this for a long time but I have to admit that as time goes by, I lack the will to care anymore. I cannot stop what is happening. But I can stop the deleterious effect these events are having on my state of mind. Forever addicted as a news junkie, I know that I will never totally disengage, but I will withdraw as far as I can.

For all my friends, acquaintances and those who stumble on this blog, I leave you to your own battles and wish you well whatever your cause. But I can’t and won’t be part of your crusades any more. You would find my true feelings to be offensive anyway, and best we just take care of our own concerns.

Thank you for visiting my grave - but first a word from our sponsors

This blog, despite what some may think, was never meant to change social or political history. My radio show was supposed to do that and, although the effort was a good one, at a for-profit enterprise, it was doomed. What the blog is all about is (1) therapy writing for me to express things that I am reluctant to do personally and (2) a diary of sorts that acts as a written gravestone or testament. 

You may know that there are some cemeteries that will sell you an interactive gravestone that flashes images from the deceased’s life and audio of their words and others that knew them. This, of course, is somewhat crass but understandable from a society that has taken the idea of ‘personal branding’ even to the grave. 

If some people wish to give a spin on their thoughts, beliefs and actions through that medium, fine for them. I’ll do it the old fashioned way, with words and stories.

Confessional

The relationship between myself and shrink 29 is over. 

After 35+ years of psychotherapy or whatever you want to call it, she convinced me that whatever happens now or in the future, it’s all my fault.

I have been weighed in the balance and found defective. But deep down, I knew that.

I realized some time ago when I looked back on my life that of all the problems I have had at work or in personal relationships or with organizations I dealt with, the only constant was me. I never denied it.

So I have tried through the use of therapy and introspection to find a way to stop being myself.

And, after all these years, I have come to the only inescapable conclusion: that this is impossible. 

My therapist drove home the point repeatedly in this session:

Regardless of what I have said or meant to have it taken in the incidents at work, it was my lack of self-control that caused the issue.

Regardless of the fact that I was never counseled, allowed to face my accusers or have the chance to apologize, as I have always done when I’ve found I’ve offended anyone, it was my lack of self-control that caused the issue. 

Regardless of the fact that I was almost killed in front of my wife by a very apologetic SWAT team last year, it was my lack of self-control that is to blame. 

Regardless of the fact that when I was escorted from my work premises three days before Christmas last year when even the investigating detective admitted in his official report that my rights as an employee were being violated six ways from Sunday, that it was only my lack of self-control that was responsible. 

Regardless of the fact that there are innumerable instances of my employer doing the exact same thing to countless employees, it’s my lack of self-control that is the only issue here.

I could go on, but what is the point?

There is nothing wrong with her analysis. Her conclusions fall within the mainstream of psychological practice and, just as importantly, fall within the mainstream of American cultural beliefs. 

Whatever demons I have fought against in my life, I have failed to conquer them. I have tried to overcome my defective personality to no avail. 

They say that at some point as an adult, you have to stop blaming what happened in your youth for your present condition. The problem with that coincides with the same issue we see in PTSD and other similar conditions. The scars we bear as kids that shape and mold our personalities, imprint on our consciousness, and stay with us for a lifetime. Some can consign these incidents to a forgotten corner of their mind and deal. Some can’t.

Those that can’t, no one really wants around. We aren’t in sync with the modern self-help zeitgeist that says you can heal yourself of just about anything. 

I have tried, believe me I have tried. 

Bipolar2, major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder. Never mind, it’s all my inability to control myself . . . without a clue how to do it. My tripwires are injustice, incompetence, wanton cruelty, ignorance  and inequality. When I experience these things, I speak up, apparently, the wrong way. I am over sensitive which means if I think I’m being singled out for something I didn’t do, or treated unfairly, my mood spirals downward and I can’t get out no matter how mindful I try to be. 

I don’t fit in here. I have never fit in here. I never will fit in here. This whole thing was some kind of ghastly mistake. And it’s my fault for not figuring it all out. 

All my life I wanted to be someone else. Someone who is conventionally normal in temperament and sociability. Unfortunately, I keep being myself. All through the jobs, the marriages, the lost friends, the hurt and the anger, I tried and failed to be someone else because ‘being myself’ is what kept getting me into trouble. 

Perhaps stuck in childhood hurts and resentments, I never grew up emotionally. Or, I never developed proper emotional coping devices. To look and talk to me under normal circumstances, you would never guess. Maybe that’s a part of the condition. 

Shrink 29 is right. I should have realized it a long time ago instead of wasting everyone’s time.

Psychologists don’t care if you’re a hard case. That is one thing I have learned. It’s a job, patients are widgets, if they can’t be re-manufactured, show them the door and tell them they’re just not ‘ready for therapy.’ Or, like shrink 28, laugh at them for believing there should be a just world. Make them feel hopeless. 

Congratulations psychiatry. Oh, wait, sorry. You did not fail, I did.

From Jenny Lawson’s post yesterday:

“On Friday I saw my shrink and she told me that my Imposter Syndrome was out of control and that I need to stop beating myself up all the time and instead focus on the moments that make me happy.”

I wish I had her shrink. She seems nice. 

 “One year later I am still broken.  I am still furiously happy.  And I am still not alone.”

She forgot to add: ‘and I am sitting on a pile of cash which means I don’t have to work or interact with people I choose not to.’

There was only once in my life that I can point to and say that I fit in and did remarkably well.  Ironically, it was on active duty for training in the Army. I think the reason for it, was that my entire day was structured with activity. I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t have enough time to worry. My leadership demanded respect but they earned it. I was accomplishing things I didn’t think were possible and felt good about myself. 

At times, it was even fun. I got along with everyone. My drill sergeants thought very highly of me. 

I don’t know what would have happened if I had converted from Army Reserve to Regular Army. Perhaps it would have all gone to Hell eventually. All I know is I had a wife and child that had not signed on for military life. 

But that was then. This is now.

I am 53 and I can’t see any way out of this. 

No matter how hard I try, how much I try to use mindfulness tricks, no matter what inner source I try to conjure up including prayer, I will stifle whatever anti-social tendencies I have 99 times out of 100. But that one time will always prove my undoing. 

I’m tired of hyper-vigilance – it wears a person down; it’s no way to live. I’m tired of tip toeing through life like I’ve been doing the last six years. I’m tired of this feeling of fear and anxiety in the pit of my chest that’s like a constant companion. I’m tired of having lost interest in everything that used to bring me pleasure. I’m just tired.

So very, very tired. 

I confess, to you, oh God, and to you my brothers and sisters,
that I have sinned through my own fault.
In my thoughts and words; in what I have done and what I have failed to do.
And I ask the Blessed Mary ever virgin and all the angels and saints,
and you my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God. 

I haven’t been to Catholic services for well over 20 years and I did not have to look that up. Some things you never forget.

One more:

    Between the idea
    And the reality
    Between the motion
    And the act
    Falls the Shadow
                                   For Thine is the Kingdom
   
    Between the conception
    And the creation
    Between the emotion
    And the response
    Falls the Shadow
                                   Life is very long
   
    Between the desire
    And the spasm
    Between the potency
    And the existence
    Between the essence
    And the descent
    Falls the Shadow
                                   For Thine is the Kingdom
   
    For Thine is
    Life is
    For Thine is the
   
    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but a whimper.
                                            —T.S. Eliot