Open the Boxes

One day it was good and then it wasn’t. A previous job, almost in a previous life, but not so far in the distance that it doesn’t still affect me almost daily. I don’t speak of it often, preferring to put it in one of the boxes in my mind that are covered in dust from years of being closed tight and shoved in a corner.

I worked at a medical office in reception and had been there for a year or two, I guess. One day I got a call from the billing office: they wanted to promote me. I was thrilled. I had not heard great things about the working environment in that office, but everyone was just so lovely to me when I started. I didn’t have a lot of friends in the area then and they often invited me to lunch or drinks, and I was invited to the homes of more than one person in the department.

I went through the typical learning curve and was slower than those who had been there for years, of course. A couple months after being promoted, I found out I had cancer. It was thyroid cancer to be exact. I don’t know how much you know about your thyroid gland, but for being such a tiny little thing, it sure does a lot of really important things. Basically, I was a mess. Nothing in my body worked right. After my second surgery, I took a couple months of leave to recover.

While I was gone, the department took up money for me. The cancer had done a number on my body and all my pants were falling off me. I was so grateful to be able to buy pants that I didn’t have to tie on with a belt! It was such a kind gesture, and it made the awful months ahead almost unbelievable.

When I returned to work, I pretty much had to learn everything all over again. I was starting from scratch. This time, brain functioning a little better, I seemed to pick up things a little faster. I was thanked and praised for my work.

And that’s when it all started to fall apart.

Out of the blue (it seemed at the time, but I am sure it was well-calculated), the department manager started posting stats on individual’s collection and posting rates. I came out on top of the list. A lot. Many of those people had been there far, far longer than me and, well, let’s just say it wasn’t received well. I started noticing that the others no longer said hello in the mornings. And then I’d notice that the whole department, manager included, would go to lunch, and leave me sitting there by myself. I surely was no longer invited to gatherings at peoples’ homes. Things I had told these women, who I thought were my friends, suddenly became common knowledge within the company, all the way up to the CFO.

Fortunately, I had stayed friendly with the reception ladies. I went from having lunch with them (they ate at their desks and worked through lunch) once a week or so, to having lunch with them every day instead of watching everyone get up and leave at the same time, not speaking to me, leaving me sitting there alone.

There were two girls in the department who were still friendly with me. One of them I could tell was kind of the others’ “spy”. I was very careful what I said to her, what I said to anyone, really, but I could tell she was trying to get more dirt to fuel the fire. We’ll call her Christy. The other was friendly with them but also had a backbone of steel and did what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to be nice to me for fear of being ostracized. We’ll call her Sarah.

One day, while, once again, everyone left for lunch, I was about to leave the office where we all sat together when I heard someone tell Christy there was a snake on the patio. I am terrified of snakes. Like, TERRIFIED. I know, it’s nonsensical and blah, blah, blah. You don’t have to tell me all that. It is what it is, and I have far more important issues to deal with than to conquer my fear of snakes.

I had a complete meltdown. I didn’t even see it, just knew it was there. I was so stressed already that I think it was a tipping point for me. I sat down in the nearest chair and had myself one hell of a panic attack. It was bad, really bad. I couldn’t breathe. My whole body was quaking. I was sweating. I was beginning to black out. Christy must have heard me hyperventilating and rushed in. She got me calmed down enough that I could function…and then quietly spread the word of what happened.

Sarah told me later (we ended up working together at another job and became quite close) that the ladies in the department, including the manager, approached her after that incident and asked her to find a live snake to leave near my car door one day so I would encounter it when I, and everyone else, left the office. I guess they were all disappointed they missed my panic attack and wanted to watch. Sick. When Sarah refused, they said OK how about a rubber snake. She still refused. Like typical bullies, they didn’t want to do it themselves, so fortunately they never got their show.

I guess since that plan failed, they became even more vicious. I was called into the CFO’s office and reprimanded for disturbing the receptionists while they were working during their lunch hour. I was to go upstairs no more, further isolating me. I was called into HR about some of the rumors that they took the liberty of spreading. Based in fact, they took things I had told them in confidence but made them much juicier for the gossip mill, until I was an unstable slut who stalked and/or had sex with several men in the office.

I was already dealing with anxiety and depression, having been diagnosed years earlier, and the whacked-out thyroid intensified everything. Having this happen on top of everything else was so painful. I looked for a new job. The first one I was offered, I jumped at. That turned out to be a huge mistake but that’s another story for another day.

So, what’s my point in saying all this? Well, my word this year is “worthy”. I think this is one of the major events in my life that lead me to feel as if I didn’t deserve recognition. It’s not like when they began posting the stats, I walked around holding up a banner saying, “I am the best”. I was pleased, at first, but then I was embarrassed: ashamed of doing well. At my current place of employment, I asked that things be kept quiet when I was promoted several years ago. I quietly updated my email signature and that was it. One coworker with whom I was very close noticed and was offended that there was no big announcement. I told her that’s not what I wanted, and I don’t think she understood. Maybe she’s reading this now and can understand better.

Every year when it’s review time – heck every two weeks when I meet with my supervisor – I expect there to be a problem of some kind and am always relieved when there isn’t. I constantly expect people to secretly (or not secretly) hope for my failure. It’s why I feel that nothing I do is ever good enough. It’s why when I make a minor mistake, I am terrified it’s going to be the end of my job. It’s why, when I do well, I don’t want anyone bragging about it and I’d rather be told privately. It’s why, now that my job duties are shifting again, I am scared that someone is going to complain about me and how they should have been offered the tasks I am currently learning. It’s why, when I feel the spotlight hit me, I feel like I should shrink or disappear.

During this year of accepting my worthiness, I hope that all gets better: that the echoes of the Mean Girls in that past job quiet down, along with the echoes of the Mean Girls from middle and high school (stories for another day!). I’ll learn that doing well isn’t shameful. I’ll stop being terrified every time I have to meet with my boss. I’ll learn to appreciate my kindness and intelligence, and not cringe as I am typing or saying the words (like I did just now). Truthfully, learning and accepting my worth is going to be a lifelong project, not just one for the year 2022. This is the year, though, in which I will start to open the boxes I so carefully and completely closed throughout my life. This is a year of worth.