Thanks to The Green Hills Literary Lantern for publishing my poem, Moving Forward.
The title of the poem and timing of it being published does not escape me.
There hasn't been a whole of writing going on at the moment. My current favorite way of expressing myself is through unintelligible grousing and large, erratic movements with art implements and unfortunate paper victims.
Dear poetry, are you still my friend? Please check yes or no. 😆
Yes ▢
No ▢
I am just barely emerging on the side of victorious after a rather tough battle with some kind of sickness. COVID perhaps since I cannot tell the difference from matcha and water and too much sriracha is not enough but two bites of fried rice is too spicy?? Now I am battling the sinus infection that always follows thanks to breaking my nose doing a backflip on a trampoline many years ago. Gotta love how our childhood shadows us our whole lives, right?
There's a bit of cold medicine writing aiding this post. I'm such a lightweight. But I'm ready to let go of some of this burden. Sometimes the weight of something can be worse than the thing it is that you're actually carrying. I need to let some of it go.
I've been oscillating between tears and strength this past year and sometimes both, as they are sometimes the same thing. I usually don't let things get me down, but I've had the absolute worst manager this past year. I kept thinking I was going to write this grand post where she suddenly got the mental help she needed and stopped being such an ogre towards me. Or I was transferred to another branch/position. Or I found another job. None of those things have happened yet. I have been mired in attacks on my professionalism, character, love for my job, and teamwork for over a year now. It's been killing me. And I've kept quiet because well, I really still care for my library. I still care for my coworkers and patrons. And I've had a lot of support from family, friends, and coworkers. I have wanted a place to belong all my life. I found it. Now it's time to shed that belonging, turn it into art, into something I can treasure, and find a new identity.
This morning I unpacked a pair of my grandma's earrings from my memory chest, and despite being unable to get properly dressed due to still being sick, I put them on. It's surprising how much their tinkling sound has given me the strength to write this.
In addition to having a manager who is after me, I also did not make the library programming team. I wasn't really sure I wanted to go from doing half desk, half programming to full-time programming. But as I packed up all my storytime things and spent a week crying every time I tried to play Old MacDonald or the Itsy Bitsy Spider on my ukulele, I realized just how much programming, storytimes in particular, had become a part of my soul and identity. Losing storytimes is definitely a form of grief. I've also been in this uncomfortable position of telling my beloved storytime patrons I am no longer doing storytimes. As one patron said, "So it's like you're being fired, but you're still here??"
I cannot tell you how many days I've barely made it to lunch just to sob myself to sleep in my car. Between the attacks from my manager and losing about 60-70% of the job I loved, I have been so devastated it's been tough to get through each work day. Yes, I've been to HR. Yes, I've asked for help. I continue to ask for help. My coworkers have even stood up for me on my behalf. I've been with the library for almost fourteen years. It is not enough. I am not enough. And that's tough. But I also get it. I am one employee who cannot handle being attacked by her manager. I understand the optics of that. Robert told me once that if I am ok with what I say being published in the paper the next day, then I cannot fault myself or be ashamed of myself. This is true. If everything, all of the months of correspondence with not just my manager, but also asking for help were to be published, both verbal and written, I would be proud of myself. Unfortunately, the pride does nothing to help with being mired in this situation.
I think I'm pretty strong. I've asked myself if I was dealing with either an attacking manager or the slow and brutally painful stripping of my identity due to the library's reorganization (programs including tween book club and storytimes, assisting with walk and read, being a part of committees where I maintained lists and provided trivia for the library, leading teen volunteers at my branch etc.), could I survive better? I don't know.
I have suspected for the last almost fourteen years that my job at the library was just about everything to me. Yes, family and friends and art and poetry and my love for life are all important too. But the library has been my identity. The job I had a year ago was my dream job. It was everything to me. It gave me an identity that I was incredibly proud of and a place to belong, which was no small feat. I recognize I put all of my eggs in one basket so to speak. I don't for a second regret it. But I am now dealing with the consequences of that. And it is a grief I live and breathe every day.
In the process of trying to figure out why I have recurring methane SIBO, I discovered I have low B12, which my body cannot absorb due to the recurring SIBO. This was almost a relief to discover, because I learned that a lack of B12 can cause anxiety, depression, and fatigue. Prior to learning I have recurring SIBO, one of the many referrals/tests my doctor ordered was therapy. The reasoning for this was that my stomach issues may be related to stress. After meeting with a really nice therapist for a couple months, it was determined that my stomach problems at that time were not stress-related. At the time, it was a box to be checked. But in the process of meeting with the therapist I told him how much it hurt that all of my family was so far away, and the pain I felt missing everyone was almost physical. He helped me figure out a way to feel a bit more connected. This is how my weekly phone calls with my nieces began.
When I discovered I wasn't handling the issues with my manager as well as I hoped, and that it may not even be my fault due to lacking B12, I reached out to a therapist, who I've been off and on seeing since this spring. I am still doing such a poor job handling this. I'm still finding myself fleeing meetings due to needing to throw up. I cry almost the second my character is attacked. The emotional pain is so deep, it's physical. I'm doing everything right, but I am still failing. The therapist I've been talking to thinks it has to do with living this way for over a year now. Accumulation has weakened a lot of the armor and resiliency I've built up. He also thinks I need to be more open about what's happening in my life.
Robert has known since the beginning. He's been there every time I've come home from work and gone straight to bed crying. He's been there to help me craft emails, stand up for myself, and read and listen to every correspondence with both neutrality and compassion. A few coworkers have also known from the beginning. A few months ago I also opened up to one of my brothers. And recently I have been telling other family members and opening up to other coworkers I trust.
I don't have anything to be ashamed of. I am experiencing a crises and also trying to redefine my identity. I feel so honored when others feel comfortable enough with me to express vulnerability, but I often forget vulnerability is a two-way street. There's strength in sharing all emotions as long as the emotions are not harmful to others, including ourselves.
So there it is. I am still fighting off this current sinus infection but ready to take the leap into living again. When you're feeling low and then you get so sick you can't get out of bed, it's a double whammy. Today, while looking for something I needed for an art project I stumbled upon my memory chest, the one with my grandma's earrings in addition to pictures, dog tags/collars from fur babies now gone, even the Monopoly piece my childhood best friend always used, and I thought about all the life being lived right now. Life that's currently being woven into memories, so many that one memory chest is never enough, and you spend an hour looking through piles of keepsakes that are teetering everywhere in your office, because you need one small memory for an art project.
Each day I go into work I remind myself I'm there for patrons and coworkers. Each day when I leave, whatever I cannot or should not carry, gets obliterated by my tennis racquet, drowned in the pool (swimming has become such a release for me), or is replaced with all the joy and love my family shares with me. I have the most caring and supportive partner I could ask for. Family I can call. Friends who support and care about me. Far too many things to create an easy mantra, but that's really the answer right there. So much love.
Thank goodness for long, relaxing, and fun vacations! I'm still wrestling with a lot of work toxicity and drama, and the week prior to vacation was particularly rough. I also still don't know what's going on with my stomach, though there is some evidence that the work stress is making it worse. Thankfully this vacation came at the perfect time.
This past week Robert and I took off to Florida to visit with my brother James AKA Rusty, his wife, Heather and their two kids, Harper and Landyn. Even though it was the week before school starting and both James and Heather had to work, we squeezed in a lot of family time and had a blast.
Here are my favorite pictures from the trip!
Our first breakfast of the trip was Backwater, which is a magical place where you make your own pancakes. We loved it so much we went several times.
There were two hiking adventures - Turkey Creek Sanctuary and Brevard Enchanted Forest. We saw three gopher tortoises at Turkey Creek and had a wild geocaching adventure thanks to Harper. She was initially terrified of a Lubber grasshopper, but after searching and searching for a geocache she decided it was not on the trail. Without hesitation, she went gallivanting through the forest. Landyn disappeared after her, and so naturally we all ended up in the middle of the woods. Harper was victorious!
Sadly, I took several pictures of lovely things, including the Lubber grasshopper and this Rosary Pea, only to discover they were all invasive thanks to the expert in the visitor center.
We enjoyed lots of games, including shopping for a couple new ones. Robert and Harper are impossibly competitive, but that helped keep the attempts to cheat in check. Heather also made several dinners, and that was really nice.
Robert and I had the kids two different days while Heather worked. We enjoyed watching the kids go bananas at Defy (an indoor trampoline park) and took the kids to the Brevard Zoo the next day, which was just about the most perfect zoo. Not too big, lots of interacting with the animals, and it was gorgeous.
Harper is always looking out for Landyn. She is an exceptional big sister and one of the most caring people I've had the joy of knowing.
One of my favorite moments from the zoo: hissing cockroaches. They were in a cave where we could walk beneath them and be surrounded by their beautiful music.
We also fed two different kinds of birds, which was a dream come true. One of the zoo volunteers described the lorikeet enclosure as a frat house and the cockatiel enclosure as the senior living home. He was exactly right! Poor Robert was mauled, bitten, and quite possibly pooped on by the lorikeets. He's always so cherished by animals he doesn't necessarily like.
We also took a choo choo ride, fed deer, and ambled leisurely by kangaroos and ostriches who were mere inches from us.
I took tons of pictures of Harper and Landyn together, and they're all wonderful. It's tough not to share them all. Harper is so sweet and gentle with him, even when he's being a total firecracker.
Heather, Harper, Robert, and I spent a fun morning painting together at Painting with a Twist. We all made different things and had a blast.
One of the best moments of the whole trip was getting to observe Harper during one of her horseback riding lessons. Seriously! What a dream come true! All these months of facetiming her and listening to her talk about her lessons and show me pictures and videos, and then there I was, getting to be a part of it and see the magic in person.
Like any other trip, I did some shopping. Harper and I found an amazing antique mall and went not once, but twice because it took so long to get through it all. It looks like I have a new shopping buddy!
Here are my finds (not including three bars of soap I found here and there): some stamps for a collage project, jewelry, and a very special sticker.
What I don't have pictures of is all the swimming we did. We swam at the hotel pool a few times, the community pool once (where we ended up playing ball with half the kids there), and the beach twice. The beaches in the Melbourne area are so clean with soft sand and pelicans who shoot straight into the ocean like arrows and come up gobbling fish. We chased and rode waves, played volleyball and frisbee, and had the time of our lives. There's nothing like chasing waves with family. Though we were having too much fun to take any pictures, going to the beach with everyone was my favorite part. Even the first day when a storm blew in and the thunder was so loud it felt like a gurgle in my throat. I loved it all. Watching Landyn take on waves ten times his size and then come out the other side with the biggest grin, all the while Harper right there watching over him. Playing frisbee and volleyball with the waves all around, sucking your feet into the sand. Watching Harper pick up "an interesting rock shell" from the waves and freaking out when we showed her the crab inside. All of it. It was all the best.
We started out with about a dozen things on our list to see and do on this trip and left with twice that many things to do when we come back. With Landyn starting Kindergarten and Harper journeying into middle school and volleyball and both kids growing up so fast, I know we'll add even more things to the list by the time we take our next Florida trip.
