Whoops!

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.

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. . .

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 . . . ?

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.

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.

Tiny triumphs.

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 Spider Speaks. Kind of.

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.

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."

My garden of dreams.

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.

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.

Return

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!