Always Wear Black

As much as I’ve been through the past few weeks (actually 5 years), I feel the need to write down the thoughts swimming in my head. This is going to be difficult to write. I need to get this out. I need to find peace and acceptance so I can move forward. I would much rather type than write so I guess I should utilize this “journal” or “weblog” to put everything down. I figure it’s best to start at the beginning.

When I graduated highschool I wasn’t interested in college. After graduation I started working full-time at a daycare. I was happy to be out of school and doing something I enjoyed with my days. I was content and not really looking for anything more. I had a few friends who I was close to, hung out with my family and just enjoyed life. Sure I was looking forward to the day when I could move out of my parents house and have my own place, but I was happy where I was at the time. That fall rolled around and my brother was off to college, my older brother had graduated college and was out of the house, and my parents started talking to me about college. My mom was a little more pushy than my dad. As it got closer to January 1999 (the beginning of a new semester of college), she became more adamant that I start college and start planning for my future. The week before classes started my mom told me that she wanted me to start college. She didn’t care where, but she felt it necessary for me to go somewhere. 

I got up the next morning and left. I went through all the steps and not once did I feel uncomfortable or out of place. I was actually excited about it. I worked part-time at the daycare and went to school in the morning. I met some nice people and slowly grew to love college. I made straight A’s (much different from my highschool days) and was asked by a group of instructors to be their student assistant. Suckass, no?

The next few years I stayed in college, flip-flopping around, working part-time and making a few mistakes. By 2001 I was getting exhausted with school and wanted to move out. I decided to start looking for a full-time position. I sent out my resume to a lot of places and went on a few interviews. At this time I was working part-time at a temporary job for a lady who was on maternity leave. When she came back we got along so well that she asked if I would be interested in working for them permanently. My parents tried to push me into working there and finishing my degree. I decided to do that but deep down I really wanted a full-time job because I wanted my own place and was so tired of school. During that time I had went on an interview at an industrial corporation and really wanted the job. The interview sucked and the guy who interviewed me was a complete asshole but I figured I could deal with him. I just wanted a good salary that would support me to live alone.

A few weeks passed after the interview and I had decided to give up on the full-time job and just continue working part-time and going to school. A few days later I received a call from said asshole that I had not received the job. The other candidate had more experience and he chose her. It’s important to note that I had been desperately praying that if this job was meant to be to let it work out and if not, then don’t let me get it. That was my prayer every night. I hung up the phone and while I was disappointed, I figured it must have not meant to be.

A week passed and out of the blue I was at my part-time job in the office by myself. The lady whose place I had been working in was back on her first day from maternity leave and she had just left to go to the bathroom when the phone rang. It was the guy from the industrial company asking me if I was still interested in the job. He offered me the job and asked me what salary I was looking for. I told him and he said that it sounded reasonable and that was it. I had the job. I knew in my heart I was making a mistake but I jumped because of the salary and freedom it offered me. (Little did I know….freedom wasn’t something I was about to experience.)We discussed background checks, drug testing, HR orientation and the start date.

I showed up my first day on July 21, 2001. I was so excited. From the interview and how he handled himself I figured he would be hard to work for, but I had always went above and beyond at any job I had that I knew I could overcome whatever was thrown my way. Clearly, looking back, I was very oblivious to the real world. Not that I had not seen or had my share of life’s trials and tribulations but I was very young – 21 to be exact – and looking back, clearly, very naive.

I wanted to do a good job so bad. I walked in with a positive attitude. I put my best foot forward. I went above and beyond to do a good job. The first couple of days were hard, but I was so excited about making the salary (that was HUGE in my immature mind) so I just overlooked everything wrong and tried to focus on my job. That was a huge problem right there – I didn’t have a job actually. This position was one that was established out of the corporate office in Houston (where we actually worked out of – our dept was located in Houston – but my boss did’nt want to move when he took his position so my position stayed down here as well). He was determined to make things go his way. I didn’t understand the company, my job, my role, but most of all – him. Weird did not even begin to describe him. Let me try: He was (is) in his mid fifties, very tall, very large, extremely loud spoken and a very heavy smoker. From the beginning he was very intimidating, very controlling, manipulating and rude. Nothing changed.

As the days went by we had disagreements and I even quit three months into the job because I couldn’t take it anymore. I had just moved into my first apartment and I was distraught about giving everything up and moving back home. He called me, told me we could work it out and because I was young and stupid, I went back. A few things changed but not much. He NEVER changed. He might change something he was doing for a short period of time, but he – himself – never did change

The beat went on. For another year. And another. And three more after that. Each day got worse and worse. But oh no – I couldn’t quit. I loved my apartment. I loved living alone. And just about the time I would get ready to quit he would be bearable for a few days and I would get okay. Each day I would get up and put my clothes back on and go, no matter how bad he treated me the day before. Why? I don’t know. But deep down, I knew it was because I didn’t want to fail. I wanted to make this job work. I wanted to support myself. I let my pride get in the way too much.

Each day my life would depreciate a little at a time. Before you knew it, I was going to my family doctor to get medicine to cope. Then I started gaining weight by leaps and bounds because of the stress. My eyesight started deteriorating. I became a completely different person. No one wanted to be around me. I didn’t want to be around me. I went to 3 counselors, 2 psychologist and 1 psychiatrist trying to figure out how to handle this situation better. Nothing worked.

Throughout the past two years, things started looking up. Kind of. I started back at Lamar to finish my degree, I had finally gotten a raise – after 3 years of being there. I was complacent in the rut. I finished my degree and got another raise – a significant one – right after that. That only made it worse. I was making a very good salary – but the situation had not changed. By this time things had gotten a little better. About every 6 months we would have a huge disagreement but other than that I did my job and he did his. But we still had a very deep hatred for each other and it was obvious. We tried to be friends – we went to lunch a few times, tried to find common ground – but it just wasn’t there. By this time – 3 years later – there was just too much water under the bridge.

Part II to be continued….