Where's my Mojo?

And nearly a year later . . .

2009-12-31T19:25:00.004-06:00

Shortly after I wrote the post below, my coworkers and I were informed our department was being outsourced. Not to another country but to a company who handles other companies HR operations. And, lucky us, we got to interview for our own jobs.

Not everyone was offered a position. And those who received offers were jumbled - people with far greater experience and seniority at our former company were offered entry level positions, which we accepted, grateful to at least have a job. (Layoffs for our company topped 1300.)

I was one of those people, grateful to have a job. It was a different sort of gratitude than I spoke of in previous posts. Grudging. Despondent. Bewildered.

I've been with the new company for over six months now. Loathing nearly every minute of it.

Why am I back here at "Mojo", after 12 months of writing nothing? I was Googling something and "Where's My Mojo" was the third result.

Serendipity.

I'm lucky.

2009-01-08T09:05:00.003-06:00

I have to keep telling myself I'm lucky. I have a job. I'm lucky, lucky, lucky.

Every Monday morning when I wake with a knot of dread in the pit of my stomach and a throbbing headache, I know I'm lucky.

I drive to work, weary before I've even arrived. Trek across the frozen tundra of a parking lot, icy needles of the wind piercing my cheeks. I'm lucky.

I sit down at my desk, fire up my computer, glance at the phones to see half a dozen or more calls waiting - each caller more frustrated than the last. Email from leadership with vague, obscure messages, forecasting negative numbers and all sorts of unacceptable metrics. I'm lucky.

We're seat-fillers. Companies can fill 5-9 seats in India at the same cost it takes to fill just one of our seats. We know this, yet push it to the back of our minds even though much of our processing responsibilities have already been off-shored. We're lucky.

Yes, my friends, this country is in trouble. I'm lucky to have a job when so many others are arriving at work this morning to pink slips, given ten minutes to box up years worth of desk memorabilia and be escorted to the door by security - not even allowed to say goodbye to colleagues, peers . . . friends.

So, I take my meds and visit my therapist regularly to keep the dogs of depression and woe at bay. I complete all the ridiculous exercises in "What Color is Your Parachute," even though I already know my strengths, my skills and the job environment where I'll be most happy for the next 25 years:

I want a position which has zero chance of being outsourced.
I want to be trusted, not micromanaged.
I want to be creative, innovative, forward-thinking. A problem-solver.
I want to utilize my written communication skills.
I want to utilize my artistic skills.
I want to research, investigate, resolve, complete, present.

I received the summary plan description for the long-term disability plan I'm enrolled in. For my age bracket, the "expected retirement age" is 67.

Folks, this isn't your grandfather's retirement plan.

For those of you who have lost your jobs, I'm truly sorry. Hang in there - I hope you find something soon.

The latest . . .

2008-04-13T15:35:00.003-05:00

Yikes. I'm here, I'm here, I swear. It's been a hella busy 6 or 7 months.

I returned to full-time work in August '07 and then struggled to not only adjust to the corporate world, but to deal with a micro-managing idiot supervisor with her head so far up her @ss, she didn't know which way was up! Thankfully, she was asked to resign, but not before mangling most of the annual reviews she wrote for her team. I had to leap frog over her head to get mine re-written by her manager. That's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I could go into more, but I won't. I have a new supervisor and he seems to be the cat's pajamas so far.

I apologize for being absent. You can find out a little bit more here.

Hope all is well with y'all and I hope to not be gone so long again.

2007-12-22T15:09:00.000-06:00

2007-12-09T20:51:00.001-06:00

I've discovered blogging by cell phone.
Sally

Whoops!

2007-12-03T08:01:00.000-06:00

How did it get to be December 3 already? What happened to October and November?

Quick updates.
Work: Fantastic. Hints from my supervisor that I could be promoted again, soon.
House: Got new roof, new siding, new soffits/fascia, new patio door and new windows. Still waiting on new living room windows, new front and back door and gutters.
Girl Scouts: Fine. I've had moments where I'm ready to quit. One spoiled brat of a girl decided to quit our troop and join the popular, cool troop her best friend attends. Spoiled Brat's mom never bothered to let me know. I found out second-hand. I was five kinds of furious.
The Spider: I've had no contact and haven't seen her for weeks. I refer to her house as "The Devil's Den." No particular reason except it's fun to say.
Writing: Lots of creative urges and ideas, not enough time.
Weather:

Weekly update, late.

2007-09-28T08:49:00.000-05:00

Last week another storm swept through the cities. I was working my late Thursday and when the tornado sirens went off, supervisors herded us into a center room which was open on both sides. Glass from the windows could easily have blown in on us, not to mention we were on the fourth floor. I would rather have gone to a lower level or at least into the bathrooms. Unfortunately the stairs also have windows along one side, so it would be dangerous to do even that. Twice the sirens went off and when that happens, we are to tell callers we are having an emergency weather situation and hang up, log off the phone and huddle together in the unsafe safe room. It was actually kind of fun since most of my last hour of work that night was spent chatting with coworkers instead of taking calls.

Meanwhile, at home, hail that looked like this fell (that's a quarter next to it.):

It didn't cause any damage, but it wouldn't matter if it had because we've already received an insurance check and estimate for repairs from our insurance company for an earlier storm.

We met with a contractor last week and discussed the work we need done: replace roof, siding, gutters, soffits and facia, windows and two doors. Also, I want to cover the support beams in front of our house with material much like guttering material so we'll have white columns rather than weathered rough wood beams, which look tacky. By the time all is said and done, the exterior will make our home look brand new.

At work, I swiftly fell into a groove and began feeling unchallenged. I emailed my supervisor to ask if there was anyway I could be promoted sooner than December (my eleven fellow trainees and I were promised we'd be promoted mid-December.) She said she'd check into it but she already knew plans were in the works to promote all of us as of this October! So only two months at this job and I'll be promoted into a more challenging position - with a pay raise, of course! I'm very pumped!

As for The Spider (aka The Dung Beetle), I have had no interaction with her and I hope to keep it that way as long as possible. My husband continues to wait with our daughter for the bus each morning. I've been seeing a counselor and explained the whole Spider situation to her, how it messed me up. She's been very supportive, offering helpful suggestions and we're working on improving my confidence away from the workplace (because for some reason, I am super confident at work with no self-esteem issues - what's with that??)

This weekend my husband will be at my parents house in Kansas - he's going to the Nascar race. My daughter and I are going to a farm that has a corn maze. I'm excited - I've never been through a corn maze.

That's the latest and I hope things continue to be smooth. I'm enjoying life so much more now.

I'd like to thank my loving husband for all his support. . .

2007-09-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

After receiving a text message from my husband today, I realized how much he's helped me with my transition into working full time. He merely texted about arranging some things that I thought I'd have to take care of when I got the chance. I got the text while at work, glanced at it, typed a quick reply and got back to work. And then on my break, I realized he's been such a blessing.

Every morning he walks our daughter to the end of the driveway to see her onto the bus so I can start my day on a positive note without enduring hostility and abuse from The Spider. He starts dinner nearly every night. He grocery shops on his days off. He looks over our daughter's homework and encourages her to help with dinner and housecleaning.

I'm very lucky, I realize. If I had to manage the bulk of those tasks along with working full time and facing off with The Spider, I'd probably be an emotional wreck right now.

Instead, I'm happy and enjoying my job, LOVING being productive and challenged at an honest-to-God-real-grown-up JOB.

I thanked him today and told him because of his help, I'm able to focus on my work and not fret about things at home.

I don't gush nearly enough about him, taking for granted how good I've got it. But I do so appreciate him.

Catching up . . . ?

2007-09-13T09:34:00.000-05:00

Today is my day to work late and I was hoping to catch up on my blog reading this morning but my blogroll isn't showing up! Instead, I'll post about the latest with me. Forgive me, but I promise to catch up with my blog friends, leave comments and touch base.

My days are filled with . . . work. But, pleasantly so. I'm swiftly getting the hang of my job and have had very few minor bumps along the way. Some of my fellow trainees haven't been so fortunate and have dealt with some irate, unreasonable callers. Having worked in several call centers before, I know it's just a matter of time before I get that unreasonable, hostile caller who will attempt to rattle me. I feel lucky that I've been experiencing placid calls which allow me to learn, adapt and gain confidence. Confidence is one of the key virtues one must possess when attempting to de-escalate a bad call.

As for The Spider situation, there was a scene between the two of us last Friday morning which threw me off my game for a better part of the day. In order for me to maintain a positive start to my work day as well as my sanity, my husband has been waiting with our daughter for the bus at the end of the driveway each day.

The scene, when described in simple words, seems benign enough, but the hostility, tension and sarcasm were palpable and disconcerting. I'd been stewing over The Spider's angry email and, well, instead of ignoring her Friday morning, I set my face into a grim expression, looked her in the eyes as I walked to the end of our driveway with my daughter. She smiled this broad, fake, taunting smile (very difficult to describe, but it threatened to weaken my resolve.) Never smiling in return, I gave one short, abrupt wave to which she responded (her voice dripping with sarcasm,) "Oh, I like that, that was nice." And then she mimicked my wave. I turned away and the simmering began.

What is she, in high school now? She possesses such a mastery of passive-aggressiveness, with just a simple taunting smile and sharp, grating voice. I kept it together long enough to see my child on the bus and head to work. On the way, I had to call my husband and rant and vent, poor guy. And thus, it was decided I should avoid her whenever possible, to protect my emotional well-being.

I've struggled to write over the past few months. I knew I wanted to write about The Spider Situation without it being a libelous story with recognizable characters. Lying in bed one night, I was struck by an idea and thus began my grown-up fairy tale with life-lesson moral about a dung beetle and a caterpillar. I brought it to my writer's group and it left them doubled over with laughter. My friend Gail was the only one who knew the true events behind the story; the others just enjoyed it for the writing and the lesson it presented.

It was cathartic and there's growing hope that I'll once again become a prolific writer.

Balance. Or lack thereof.

2007-09-06T09:20:00.000-05:00

At first the transition to full-time working mom didn't seem so bad. Maybe it was because my husband was on vacation and managed the household, made dinner, etc.

Now school has begun and I find myself deeply entrenched in a juggling act.

As you can see, this blog is one ball I've dropped.

I'm happy to be working, to be occupied, to be useful. Making money. However I sometimes feel as if I'm inches from failing at something. I suppose this is an issue for every working mom.

On the first day of school, I waited for the school bus with my daughter at the end of our driveway. Traditionally, The Spider and her family are in their driveway, as well, and friendly greetings are exchanged. This time I chose to be chilly and did not even look over at The Spider or acknowledge her. Later that day when I returned home from work, I discovered The Spider had sent me a hateful email lambasting me for my behavior. My friend Gail suggested I not respond. Gail is a pretty good judge of character (never liked The Spider) and explained that The Spider is seeking a response, any response, that will link us together again. Gail said The Spider is behaving like a jilted lover, disturbingly like Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction." ("I won't be ignored!")

Last year, all those months I worked with The Spider, going to her house to write - those wrecked me. I grew depressed. I gained weight. I neglected housework. I woke up exhausted each morning and needed frequent naps. Since severing my relationship with her, I wake up rested, happy. I've lost weight and had to buy new clothes. I have energy to work full-time and take care of things. The email she sent - her remarks - I felt that darkness, that depression creeping back. She's so oppressive. I must stand my ground. My daughter wrote me a little note that said, "Just say NO!" She gets it.

Maintaining an even keel.

2007-08-24T08:26:00.000-05:00

After I typed the post title, I wondered what that even meant? Somehow I knew it was a nautical phrase.

Anyway, this past week was to have been my third and final week of training at my new job. But then I was struck with bronchitis and unable to muster energy or stop coughing long enough to make it to work. I went to the doctor, was prescribed antibiotics, which I'm just finishing up. I've been fretting about being behind in training but spoke with my supervisor yesterday and she's already devised a one-on-one plan to help me catch up once I return to work.

Prior to getting sick, we had a wicked storm come through the metro. Wind, hail, non-stop lightning, thunder, rain. We lost three trees, our roof was damaged and hail cracked holes in our siding. The insurance adjusters totaled our roof (Yay, new roof!) and are attempting to locating matching siding for repairing it. If they can't match it, they'll total it (Yay, new siding!) and if that happens, my husband says we might as well replace the gutters, soffits, fascia and get all new windows while the siding is being replaced. (Yay, new windows!)

Our 1970 home is a mish-mash of colors and weathered materials. The wood trim around every window is painted a dark green which is peeling off. The roof is a nasty tan color. The siding is a cold grey "putty" which doesn't coordinate with the roof, the brick front or any other part of the home. There are raw wood posts in front that no one bothered to dress up with columns. So, when the insurance check is cut, I plan to select colors that sync well with each other. And finally having attractive, functioning windows - windows that open for easy cleaning or to let in breezes; windows with proper airtight seals!

My only lament is that we somehow didn't manage to get hail damage IN the house. Like on the medieval cabinets, the gold-fleck Formica counters or the yellowing linoleum floor. Darn it.

bronchitis

2007-08-22T15:10:00.001-05:00

Bridge survivor.

2007-08-12T13:20:00.000-05:00

I found out from an article in the Star Tribune that one of the survivors of the I-35W bridge collapse is a young actress who played Pippi Longstocking at The Children's Theatre Company last year. My Girl Scout troop saw the play and then my friend, my daughter and I went to see it again a few weeks later. The actress suffered some fractured vertebrae and will need physical therapy for a while, but should be able to act and dance and attend college. My daughter and I are sending her get-well cards. I drew this in my card:

Cat: Missing. Found.

2007-08-11T15:52:00.000-05:00

We had a bad storm early this morning: wind, rain, non-stop lightning and thunder. My cat was out since last night and he hasn't come home. We've had him since 1995. He's twelve years old. I want my cat.*

*He came home. Furry brat.

Rejoining the rat race.

2007-08-08T17:51:00.001-05:00

It's been quite a transition, returning to full-time work after over 7 years. I'm glad that I'd spent the previous two months working part-time at The Questionable Company to ease back into the swing of things. Otherwise my first days at my new job might have been a bit rougher.

On my first morning, I had to drive to downtown Minneapolis. For the first time ever. I've been downtown a handful of times. I'd just never driven there. And I had to add time to my estimated commute to factor in diverted traffic from the collapsed I-35W bridge. I ended up being an hour and a half early, so I spent that time sitting in a cushy chair, reading a book at a Starbucks.

Downtown culture is completely different than anything I'm accustomed to. Everyone dresses extra sharp. Pointy heels, sleek hair, suits and ties.

Thankfully, the facilities where I'll be working is "business casual" with "casual Fridays." Downtown, it's "business dress" and "business casual" on Fridays, if even that.

After my orientation, I drove to my work facility in a northern suburb and met my supervisor and enjoyed a pizza lunch with the other new employees. Then we began training. The next day we had training for half the day and then went to a nearby park for a company picnic! They closed shop for the rest of the day and we spent hours there, playing games, eating, winning raffle prizes. Everyone was given a free t-shirt to wear. In fact, I've received so many free things this week - a drink mug, a mouse pad, a pen, a magnet.

And the facilities where I work are so great. The cafeteria excites me the most mainly because I've never worked any place where I could just pop downstairs for lunch. So far my favorite thing in the cafeteria is the toast (and bagels.) You choose your type of bread (or bagel) yourself and pop it into this sort of mini-pizza oven conveyor device which TOASTS IT. And then you have a choice of flavored cream cheeses, regular butter, jelly or jam, peanut butter, flavored butters. My God, it's toast heaven!

And there are tons of choices for lunch or snacks as well.

The roughest part has been the drive. During my training, my hours are 8-4:30, so I am stuck in rush hour traffic. My regular hours begin at the end of the month and I'll have a later shift which will definitely quicken my commute.

I've also run into three people I used to work with seven years ago (same company, different department.) It's great to know someone - I feel like a family member returning to the fold instead of just a new trainee.

Not sure when I'll be able to post again. I'm usually beat by the time I get home from work.

Pictures from the kitchen.

2007-08-04T14:29:00.000-05:00

The other evening my daughter was making herself a mocha shake. After she'd poured in some chocolate syrup, she noticed this little heart in the foam.

Today I made my first batch of jelly. EVER. This is jalapeño jelly. Although it was a nice green on its own, I confess, I did add a few drops of green food coloring. You are supposed to put this over cream cheese on crackers. We'll see how it tastes later.

Of Human Bonding

2007-08-03T10:47:00.000-05:00

Everywhere I go - the supermarket, the gas station, the library - I overhear conversations between complete strangers. People are discussing the bridge collapse and how narrowly they or a loved one or a friend missed being on the bridge when it fell. I much prefer those brief moments of bonding to the media frenzy with news programs sending their top anchors to report directly from the tragedy, the fallen bridge serving as a dramatic backdrop for their reports.

This drawing, done by a fifteen-year-old boy named Will Bornhoft, demonstrates how something like this touches the human spirit.

Photographed by Jeff Wheeler for the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

Bridge over IN troubled waters.

2007-08-02T10:44:00.000-05:00

I live about twenty minutes drive (non-rush hour) from downtown Minneapolis. I'd taken my parents to the Mall of America and crossed that bridge twice this week. My parents were going to drive that bridge this morning as they returned home to Kansas. I would have taken that bridge to downtown Minneapolis this Monday to attend orientation for my new job.

We're all quite shaken here.

Last night, as my mom and husband were picking up dinner, I decided to monitor the local weather because a storm system was moving into the area. Instead of weather reports, I was stunned to see video taken from a helicopter showing the collapsed I-35W bridge over the Mississippi. I began freaking out, yelling for my stepdad (watching TV in another room) to "TURN IT TO CHANNEL4! No, TURN IT TO CHANNEL 5!" I stood clutching the remote, staring at the TV and saying, "Oh my God oh my God," over and over. Much like I'd done on September 11. Now this tragedy in no way compares to 9/11, except the shock and disbelief and numbness. I had goosebumps all over as I watched the news. When my mom and husband arrived home, I met them at the door. They were grinning and laughing and I asked, "Were you listening to the radio? the I-35W bridge collapsed over the Mississippi!" They'd been listening to Jack FM which isn't really a local station. Then we all stood before the TV in shock, our dinner growing cold.

Not long after that, a thunderstorm hit and our power went out. We sat bathed in the warm glow of candle light, calming down a bit despite the chaos of those hours.

We're OK here. My parents left for Kansas this morning, taking a different route.

Hopefully we'll learn what happened to that bridge. Repairs will take a long time and my husband may even be involved, since he's a phone line repairman and phone lines are strung through piping on those bridges.

We're very sad for those who've lost loved ones. It's a very sad, tragic event. It could have been even more horrendous if it had happened only thirty minutes earlier, during the bulk of the rush hour.

Self portrait in vegetables.

2007-07-27T14:58:00.000-05:00

Summer ruminations.

2007-07-27T11:56:00.000-05:00

Even though it's not August yet and school doesn't start here until the day after Labor Day, it feels like summer is winding down. It doesn't help that because of drought conditions here, some trees are starting to turn already. Not to mention all the Back To School sales. Sheesh.

I have "Buy a new snow shovel" marked on August in my calendar. Because we need a new snow shovel. And you can't find a single snow shovel in the state of Minnesota during winter, we discovered last January.

I've been busy doing all the things I won't have much time for once I begin working full-time. As you can see from the photo in the previous post, the garden is starting to give back to me for all my hours of care and labor. Yesterday I snapped beans, chopped them into bite-sized bits, blanched them and put them in a freezer bag. I'll serve them for dinner while my parents are here so they can be suitably impressed at my green thumb. Well, I'd like to think they'll be impressed but they tend to be stingy with the praise.

My butternut squash plant has grown like crazy, starting to encroach my blueberry bush and, soon, the lawn. I'll need to try to train the vines in other directions. I don't even know what to do with butternut squash, really, other than seed it, bake it and then mash it with seasonings and butter or something. But I've started searching for recipes and hope to find a few things to make.

In preparation for my parents visit, I'm making these cinnamon rolls, which I've made before and are a big hit. The Pioneer Woman has some great recipes. I love her and wish she'd be my best friend but she has a kajillion friends already.

A tree guy is supposed to drop by today or tomorrow to give us a quote for cutting down the tree that lost its branch. We'll also need a quote for cutting down an even larger tree that has a split down the middle. I hate losing trees in our yard. I'll miss them.

Today's bounty

2007-07-26T10:26:00.000-05:00

I picked these this morning:

Nature

2007-07-24T12:02:00.000-05:00

Here's a shot of part of the oak tree branch (yes, BRANCH) that fell on the neighbors fence. You can see the bent fence in the background.

A yellow jacket. Ick.

First crop of Sugar Snack tomatoes from my garden. Nature's candy.

C R A S H.

2007-07-24T11:19:00.000-05:00

Early this morning I heard the sound of wood cracking and splitting and then the crash of branches and leaves hitting the ground. It didn't sound horribly loud or like it hit anything important, so I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

My husband is outside now with a chainsaw, cutting up a HUGE branch which fell from our tree onto our neighbor's chain link fence. Earlier he went next door to see if they were home (Sue and Sue are the neighbors), and they weren't. He's cleaning up the mess and plans to fix the fence, as well. Fortunately it's his day off.

My mom finally texted me. She's turned into a wuss in her old age - she only lasted a week before breaking the silence.

Since my house is already clean from having a recent house guest, I invited her and my stepdad to visit before I start my new job. They'll be arriving Sunday. I'm taking my mom and daughter to the Mall of America and maybe, just maybe, she'll buy her grandkid some back-to-school things. You know, to make up for being such an ASS.

Tiny triumphs.

2007-07-23T12:14:00.000-05:00

I definitely overreacted about the unexpected overnight guest, I know now. Papa didn't care that the house was cluttered and messy and he only stayed one night.

It's easy to entertain an eighty-two-year-old man. I just showed him my vegetable garden and then all of us spent most of the time on the deck, sitting and chatting. He was content to watch my husband play fetch with the dog or me seed jalapeños, stuff them with cream cheese and wrap them in bacon. We didn't have to take him anywhere and he fell asleep in an upright position on the sofa. A lot.

Friday I quit my job at The Questionable Company. Though I didn't give them two-weeks notice (because I need these two weeks off to get some things done), they were very nice about it and even asked that I come back if my new job doesn't work out. Best not to burn any bridges.

I also discovered that any nutritional supplements, including vitamins in the grocery store, are not FDA approved and contain the same disclaimer that The Questionable Company puts on all its products and ads. So it isn't right for me to judge their product based on the disclaimer. I still dislike the whole multi-level marketing method of distributing that they utilize, but my coworkers were nice and it was a pleasant environment, despite the possible fire code violations of the offices.

I've exchanged a few brief emails with The Spider about the critique group she's setting up and my new job. The silence is officially broken but I don't anticipate anything warmer or friendlier, which is fine with me. I'm happy now, with minimal contact.

Still haven't heard from my mom. It's been a week and one day. I try not to think about it because it irks me so. I feel she's behaving childishly and I wonder if there's only more to come of this from her?

And finally, I've written. My dry spell has come to an end. This morning I added two new pages to a novel-in-progress. It's nothing extraordinary, but it's something to work with, to build on. It's the first thing I've written since April.

The inlaws piss me off. Again.

2007-07-21T09:04:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago my mother-in-law let me know that her husband, Papa, (my husband's stepfather) would be in Minnesota. She told me Papa would give us a call so we could get together for dinner while he was here. The other day, Papa finally called and asked if my husband could come pick him up (he's at his daughter's house, an hour away) this Saturday. I said, sure. He said he'd call back with more details and the time, location, etc.

He calls back yesterday and only during the course of this conversation do I find out he intends to spend the night at our house. After I hung up, I was livid and began rampaging around the house, cleaning like a madwoman. You see, I hadn't expected any guests, let alone an extended visit. My house was a wreck! Toys and debris scattered about every room; a coating of dust on every surface; pots and pans in the sink; dirty floors; filthy bathroom, old shower curtain. I called my husband at work and told him his mother was a marked woman for not telling me Papa planned to STAY with us. And I wasn't even sure if it was just for one night or WHAT. And I wasn't sure where to put him - this isn't a big house. Our guest bed is fifteen years old, sagging, lumpy, uncomfortable. It isn't safe for an 80-something old man to sleep on. And I'd just gone grocery shopping but since I didn't know I'd have a house guest, I hadn't bought mild foods for his ultra-sensitive digestive tract.

I haven't been this furious - nearly punching walls - in a long, long time. Yes, I've been angry, I've been depressed and despondent at times, but this was sheer rage.

Don't get me wrong - I love Papa and because he's getting up there in years, it's important we spend time with him while we can. But I must be prepared. I must have an itinerary! My life has been chaotic, lately, with working, interviewing for another job, dealing with The Spider and my mom and giving my notice to The Questionable Company.

The sad part is, I wanted someone to vent to and my mom would have been my first choice but SHE'S NOT SPEAKING TO ME. So that made me even more angry!

My inlaws tend to do this sort of thing - not give all the pertinent details. I told my husband, "Next summer, we're just showing up in Florida (where they live) and we're going to call from the airport and say, 'Come pick us up!'" They owe us and they are going to pay.

The Spider Speaks. Kind of.

2007-07-20T07:47:00.000-05:00

It just occurred to me that exactly two people have been simultaneously giving me the silent treatment. The Spider, who hasn't spoken to or emailed me since May 1, and my mother, who has ignored my emails and text messages since Sunday.

This is the price I pay for standing up for myself, for telling others how I want things to be. Evidently, people don't expect that from me and have always known me to bend to their will. They don't like it one bit.

I really feel at odds with their reactions. I've always been a people-pleaser, anxious not to hurt feelings and step on toes. As a result, my own toes have been crushed repeatedly. It's hard not to revert back to placating and apologizing!

Yesterday, The Spider broke her silence. But only because she wanted something from me. She offered no pleasantries; her email was brief and frosty. She's trying to form a critique group (since she got kicked out of ours) and wants me to give her the email address of a mutual acquaintance/writer. She also wanted to know if I'd participate in her group. I'd like to email her "There's no way in hell." Instead, I'm going to be as brief and frosty as she was, give her the email address and cite my busy schedule and new job as reasons I will not join her group.

The The Spider's silent treatment will probably resume.

As for my mom, I'm simply going to fight fire with fire. Or silence with silence. I promise, she'll break first.

I'm angry. So very angry.

2007-07-18T22:41:00.000-05:00

Things were slow today at The Questionable Company, so I had a lot of time on my hands. Time to repeatedly check my cell phone to see if my mom had responded to a text message I'd sent TWO DAYS AGO. Then I sent her another one. Still no response. And she didn't respond to the email I sent on Sunday in which I gently explained to her how I heaped enough guilt on myself for going back to work and could she please not add to that guilt?

My email must have put a bee in her bonnet and if so, then I've got a hornet's nest in mine.

I have so many angry thoughts pinging around in my head, I can't decide where to start. First of all, this silent treatment of hers is not only childish, it's passive-aggressive. She used to pull this crap on me when I was a teen - she'd not speak to me if I'd done something that pissed her off. She'd be sweet to my brothers and totally ignore me. (For the record, she did this to any of us, not just me.) I couldn't stand to be shunned by my own mother, so she won. I ended up apologizing and begging forgiveness. And just like that, she'd be all better and start acknowledging me again.

Now I've already mentioned how absurdly unfair it is, being nagged and guilt-tripped when I've done the best I can do for my daughter, for my family and for my life. And meanwhile, she enables and rewards my brother's irresponsibility.

So she's pulling out her old trick, the big Silent Treatment. She's in for a surprise. I'm not sending her another text or email and I'm not calling her. And I guarantee, she's going to break the silence first. I have the best bargaining chip: her only grandchild. If she wants to know what's going on with her granddaughter, well, by God, she's going to f*cking stop this passive-aggressive bullsh*t and contact me.

I was on a slow simmer by the time I got home from work and the 90 degree temps didn't help. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed numerous cars were parked in The Spider's driveway. She was having yet another pool party.

Last summer, she plied her way into my life on the hottest days, inviting me and my daughter over to her pool 3-4 times a week. You can imagine how wonderfully refreshing it is to soak in a sparkling cool swimming pool on hot days.

So, this summer, she's given an abundance of pool parties and it's almost as if she's going out of her way to flaunt it in my face. "Nyeah, nyeah, you're not invited into my pool.!" It's not the pool itself I care about. It's her whole attitude - how she used her pool as a way to lure me into a relationship to get something she wants from me. And this year, since she no longer "needs" me, she sees no need to invite me over to swim.

Not that I'd go. It's just the principle of the thing!

By the time my husband got home, I was pacing around, fuming, a thundercloud following me around. I told him that I was sick of women in my life who have attempted to emotionally manipulate me. My mom. The Spider. I asked my husband, "Have I ever tried to get what I want by being passive-aggressive or a manipulator? Am I like that?" He said no, definitely not.

Over ten years ago I briefly saw a therapist. During those visits, she seemed to be trying to make me place blame on my mother for some of my issues. I laugh now when I think how defensive I got, how I told her, "Don't you ask me about my mother - she did the best she could and I will not place any blame on her for how she raised me."

Welllll...how ridiculously naive and ignorant I was back then.

My general practitioner gave me the name of a therapist. I'm leaning towards making an appointment and you can bet the first words out of my mouth are going to be, "Let's talk about the crap my mom pulls on me."

Father and daughter.

2007-07-17T19:13:00.000-05:00

I took this in May. I've been tweaking it so I can frame it and give it as a gift to my mother-in-law. It's a very special photo.

Guilt via text.

2007-07-15T12:59:00.001-05:00

I recently got a new cell phone with a texting plan. My parents, brother and cousins text each other all the time and I wanted in on that; it seemed like fun.

I should have known that my mom would use texting as yet another way to apply the guilt.

It doesn't matter that I'm forty-one years old, married for over 17 years and have managed to raise a child who is happy and thriving. No, she still needs to tell me what to do because, in her mind, I'm clueless and in desperate need of guidance.

And, this is the kicker: my other brother has been homeless, jobless, living in his car, arrested (more than once), sent to jail (more than once), broken various laws, accumulated numerous misdemeanors and maybe a felony or two, is a deadbeat dad, doesn't report all his income, can't pay his rent or phone bill - my mom REWARDS his behavior by sending him money any time he asks.

But me, I'm law-abiding, independent with a roof over my head, clothes on my back. I'm in a stable relationship, take care of my child and haven't asked for money from my parents in over twenty years. What do I get? All the guilt! I wish the woman could see the double-standards she sets!

My doormat tendencies? The ones that got me in deep with The Spider? Those stem from my relationship with my mother - she's always been hardest on me, even though I've rarely been the one who's given her worry.

In light of my impending status as a full-time working mom, I've been consumed by my own guilt and transition issues, mostly concerning my time with my daughter. So my mom compounds that guilt by heaping on her own concerns, her text messages implying I can't manage and I'll be screwing up my kid's life.

Maybe if I text her back to say I am leaving my husband and trading my daughter for crack, she'll send me a check.

My garden of dreams.

2007-07-12T08:56:00.000-05:00

The dream dictionary states:
Seeing a vegetable or fruit garden in your dream indicates that your hard work and diligence will pay off in the end. It is also symbolic of stability and inner growth. Seeing a flower garden in your dream, represents tranquility, comfort, love and domestic bliss. You need to be nurturing. Seeing sparse, weed-infested garden, suggests that you have neglected your spiritual needs. You are not on top of things.

Last night I dreamed someone had vandalized my garden, ripping out every bit of vegetation. Then they'd carved giant-sized footprints leading to the garden, as if to make it look like a monster had destroyed it. I was livid and immediately had two suspects in mind. One lives across the street and the other a thousand miles away. Because the footprints were so artistically crafted, I determined that The Spider hadn't created them, but suspected she'd been the one to rip out the plants. I began to realize it had been a two-person operation. Then I wondered why the dog hadn't alerted us to what was going on outside and I woke up.

It doesn't take a genius to translate this dream. In an earlier post, I'd compared my life now to my garden. I've been carefully tending to both, taking preventative measures against pests and other threats. Life is like a garden.

A mighty long dry spell.

2007-07-11T16:46:00.000-05:00

It's been at least three months since I've written anything. Life (and my neighbor The Spider) just siphoned the creative forces from my being.

There is a minute or two each day (or usually at night when I'm lying in bed, fretting over things) where I feel a bit distraught about this. And then I have to talk myself off the ledge with reassurances that my writing mojo will come back, some day. And then the panic subsides. But the bitterness remains.

And, truthfully, I place most of the blame on The Spider.

I should take responsibility for my own weaknesses - but if you knew this woman, if you'd been so totally enveloped in her manipulations, her mind games, her PERSONA, and then escaped and finally gained perspective, you'd understand the scope of damage she inflicted. I mean, I'm on anti-depressants, for God's sake!

Now, whenever I hear her voice echoing from across the street as she speaks to her kids or husband and I experience flashbacks of random incidents, situations or comments from her and I shudder, my stomach lurching. Then I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, reminding myself that I'm free.

I've been fortunate that I've never experienced a toxic, harmful romantic relationship. But this experience with The Spider has got to be similar. I can now understand how a person who's deeply involved with someone like that cannot see how harmful it is when they are in the thick of it.

Months ago, The Spider complained to me, "Every time I make a new friend, they end up moving away." My God, now I know why!

It's been two and a half months since I last spoke with The Spider. I've tried to write. I even thought it would be therapeutic to write about her. But I can't seem to do it, yet. And it pisses me off.

I know it'll happen; I've had dry spells before. Just nothing like this. The fact that I am motivated to post on my blog gives me hope.

Among the shadows of giants.

2007-07-10T10:19:00.000-05:00

Since moving to the Minneapolis area in 1998, I've only ventured downtown a handful of times. And I've never driven there myself. In the past I've never had problems driving through metropolitan areas with their imposing skyscrapers looming all around; I found it exhilarating.

I know the north metro suburbs like the back of my hand but downtown Minneapolis makes me skittish and queasy. In fact, a few months ago I canceled a job interview with a temp agency because it required a visit to the agency's Minneapolis offices!

Today I received a welcome packet for my new job with instructions and directions for attending an orientation and welcome session. In downtown Minneapolis. Don't worry - I'm not going to turn down the job because of this. But I will need to mentally prepare myself beforehand. Maybe even pop a Valium.

I try not to be too hard on myself for this late-in-life fear. After all, I was raised in Kansas, land of as-far-as-the-eye-can-see prairies and farm fields. It's only natural that the opposite extreme might seem a bit imposing.

Don't wanna.

2007-07-09T18:44:00.000-05:00

I was so reluctant to go to work, today, knowing a better job awaits on the horizon. But, I went anyway, the lure of a couple more paychecks dragged me back to my shabby cubicle.

The Questionable Company "products" are manufactured on site, in the same building where I take calls from the naive fools who think this snake oil is actually doing them some good. The "laboratory" is off limits to me, not that I'm interested in slipping in, stealing the Secret Recipe. (i.e., sugar water, nasty flavoring to make it seem "good for you" and a bit of laxative to make you think your body is "detoxing".) I sometimes catch a glimpse of the lab techs and have to stifle my snickering. They are outfitted in scrubs, lab coats, surgical shower caps and booties over their shoes. Puh-lease. They aren't fooling anyone . . . well, they're not fooling me.

Two weeks ago The Questionable Company offered tours for its "members." The tour guide made them all put on hazmat-type getups, with the shoe booties and surgical shower caps and disposable paper surgical aprons over their clothes. The members were all atwitter, murmuring amongst each other with excitement about actually witnessing, firsthand, the creation of Liquid Miracles.

It was funny to see but then depressing. A large percentage of the nation's population will believe anything and they'll pay hard-earned money to demonstrate their faith.

I earn my pay through their ignorance.

I can't wait to get out of there.

It's a great day . . . if you can afford it.

2007-07-05T23:50:00.000-05:00

Until I start my REAL job in August, I'm stuck working a couple more weeks at The Questionable Company, where senior citizens are coaxed into spending their meager pensions on expensive snake oil hawked by shysters who litter their mattresses with their commission checks and roll around naked on them.

Every time I answer the phone, I must say, "It's a great day at (Questionable Corp.), are you placing an order or signing up a new member today?" It gets old real fast.

Today a retiree phoned our call center from her doctor's office at his suggestion. He's a member, receiving commissions every time he suckers one of his patients into making a purchase. The retiree ordered everything the doctor recommended and then audibly swooned when I told her the total (over $200.)

It makes you wonder which roadside pop stands these "doctors" are buying their degrees.

My apologies, Madam.

2007-06-30T23:59:00.000-05:00

Earlier today at work at The Questionable Company, I was verifying a deep, gravelly-voiced caller's account number, name and address:

Me: "This account is for Carlos Velez. Is this Carlos I'm speaking with?"

Caller: ". . . No. . . This is his mother."

Oops!

Return

2007-06-29T13:24:00.000-05:00

Like all aspects of life, blogging, or the desire to blog, is cyclical. Since mid-December, I suffered from depression which grew alarmingly intense as the days and weeks passed. Fortunately, I have some good friends, locally and online, who encouraged me to end a toxic relationship and to get medical help.

I'm better. So much better. I'm happy, I'm free and, finally, I have a job.

The day before my 41st birthday, I ended my writing partnership with my neighbor, C. After that date, as the days passed, the fog in my brain lifted. It became easier to get out of bed in the morning. Sunny, warm days were blessings again. I planted a garden which thrived and is now starting to bear vegetables. (I love my garden and I think its growth and abundance symbolize my life at this point.)

I've also started taking an anti-depressant, which I don't think I'll need always, now that C. is out of my life and I'm embarking on a new career. It's just a security net until things stabilize and my anxiety lessens. (After all, I still have to go through training and becoming accustomed to full-time employment for the first time in 7 1/2 years!)

One of the biggest challenges I've ever faced was terminating the collaboration with C. Even as I spoke with her on the phone and listed my reasons for wanting out, she tried to manipulate me into continuing to write with her. I told her:

I don't have time for my own writing. I am looking for employment. I've been stressed lately and can't focus. I'm not really interested in writing children's books. I write best alone. I don't think I'm an asset to the partnership (notice I didn't blame her in any way. I was very tactful, very, "It's not you, it's me.")

Though she had no idea this break-up was coming, she was prepared to tackle each excuse I offered. She was adamant that we write together on something. Anything. She was willing to sacrifice the 11 months of work on the children's book and even write romantic comedy, even though it isn't really "her thing." And when I told her I was looking for a job, she said, "Are you going to apply at McDonald's?" and then chuckled at her joke. I was insulted.

But I kept the phone call cordial and after thirty minutes of hashing it out, I was finally free. Immediately she pounded out an email to me, which re-stated everything she'd said on the phone. Except she said she'd probably continue writing the book we'd been working on and finish it.

I didn't respond to the email and didn't tell her, "You're more than welcome to finish that piece of crap." That book was pure garbage with not even a glimmer of my style, my writing or my inspiration in it.

She hasn't spoken to me since and my friend, Gail, who leads our writer's group, carefully extracted C. from the group, as well, bless her heart! I couldn't apologize enough to Gail for ever bringing C. to group in the first place. From the first meeting C. attended, she'd vigorously tried to change rules to fit her needs.

Gail and I spent hours dissecting C.'s personality. We've come to the simple conclusion that C. is a narcissistic, manipulative personality. Gail has nicknamed C. "The Spider."

Only after freeing myself from The Spider's web was I able to reflect on every conversation, every interaction with her and see her manipulation for what it was. It was easy for her because I was needy and lonely. I so desperately wanted a friend. The Spider intuitively targeted my needs, provided me with the companionship I wanted in order to satisfy her own desires - to suck the creative energy from someone else. Most of my depression stemmed from my toxic relationship with The Spider.

I've decided for the sanctity of my own mental health, I will not put myself in a situation where I'm ever alone with The Spider. If she invites me over (she's still licking her wounds, after nearly two months,) I will always have an excuse to bow out unless there will be a ton of other adults present.

The rest of my depression was caused by my unsuccessful job hunt (as well as our finances and the fact that I'd grown too comfortable being a stay-at-home mom.) I've never earned a college degree (making The Spider's "McDonald's" quip sting all the more painfully!) and the bulk of my work experience has been clerical/customer service in nature. And worse, my resume was a ragged patchwork of jobs, depicting an unstable work history because of relocating and staying home with my daughter.

I kept track of my job hunt: I applied for over fifty positions. I was only asked to interview for about 8 jobs. I only received about 10 rejection letters. The rest never bothered to contact me. My morale plummeted but I kept a firm grip on my determination. I never gave up.

Earlier this month I accepted a part-time position in a call-center for a very questionable company. To this day I still have many reservations about this particular company, which utilizes multi-level marketing to distribute their non-FDA-approved products. Luckily I'm not in the multi-level aspect of it. I just answer calls, take product orders. Very repetitive stuff. Also, the place is a fire-trap, a maze of dingy cubicles, tightly packed with equipment and employees. I feel fortunate that my cubicle is a straight, easy jog from one of the few available exits! So, I continued to search for The Perfect Job. One that would ease our financial burdens and allow us to remodel our home, to finally begin saving money for our daughter's college and to save for our retirement.

Then, two weeks ago, a major company in this area advertised a job fair for positions located in their headquarters. I attended the fair, interviewed and quickly made it to second-round interviews. I found out yesterday that I got the job, with a salary higher than they initially advertised and with the promise of rapid advancement over the next couple years. I start on August 6.

The facilities where I'll work are awesome - newly built in 2002, they have their own parking garage, Starbucks, cafeteria, a cafe, a convenience store (with dry cleaning, mailing and printing services) and the grounds are magnificent, with a reflecting pond and numerous areas for employees to sit, think and relax, indoors and outside. I'll have my own LARGE cubicle, complete with several easy-access fire exits.

I guess I could look at it like this: This job was the reason I wasn't hired elsewhere (not counting the Questionable Company, where I'll resign at the end of July.)

I'm back but I can't promise that I'll post regularly. I just wanted to share with you my recent good news, my improved mental health and my happiness. I've missed you!

Details.

2007-03-26T07:57:00.000-05:00

For updates on my writing career, you can go here.

2007-03-11T12:10:00.000-05:00

Hiatus.