Bikini Wax At The Office

"Hard work never killed anybody but why take the chance?"~ Edgar Bergen (1903-1978)

Last night I started thinking about the fact that this weblog is the only place I've ever felt I could be completely honest. No one I know is aware that I even have a weblog (many of them don't even know what a weblog is) and anyone who stumbles across it won't ever know who I am. I don't have to protect anyone's feelings or refer to events in code. Wow...how liberating!

In celebration of total honesty, I have to share one of my office stories with you. A couple of months ago, one of my coworkers decided to get her first Brazillian bikini wax. I've never had a bikini wax of any kind, so I told her to let me know how painful it was...just in case I lose my mind at some point and decide to get one for myself. The day after the waxing, she came over to my office, locked the door behind her and started telling me about the procedure. Then, she pulls her dress up and her underwear down and SHOWS me the bikini wax. I glanced down and looked up immediately, commenting that it did look a little odd. She stood there and continued the conversation without any wardrobe adjustment. Finally, to my great relief, she pulled her underwear up and left. You can not imagine how relieved I was. I mean, I'm pretty comfortable with my own body and I certainly have seen friends in various stages of undress, but never, never, never has anyone wanted to show me their genitals. Luckily for me, she hasn't felt the need to expose herself again. The company I work for is the weirdest place I've ever worked.

Here's a brief glimpse into the madness. The owner of company never participates in any office activity, including work. He sits in his office all day, playing cards online. If you have a work-related question, you'd better make it snappy because he's not going to be happy that you're intruding on his game. It's just as well, really, because generally speaking, he won't know the answer and won't care about whatever it is you're there for.

Then there's The Information Superhighway, who got the bikini wax. I don't really think she needs any more introduction. Next to her is Mr. Moneybags, who's a right wing, bigoted, hypocritical, Bible-thumping asshole who's pretty sure he's got all the answers. Just ask him. He's mean spirited, doesn't like anyone particularly (probably not even himself) and spends most of his time complaining about the company.

Crazy Employee is our newest addition, whose husband lost his job and was unemployed for about six months. Crazy Employee is famous for her win/win situation arguments. She needed to get her car fixed and wanted the company to buy a new engine for it and to have one of our employees (a mechanic) to install it. Win/win. When no one saw the benefit for the company in doing that, she just took it to a mechanic's shop where we have a corporate account, got them to fix it and charged it to the company. No, she did not ask for permission to do that. Oooo, win/win again. We also have a corporate account at Sam's Club, where we get office supplies like paper towels, toilet tissue, etc. again, without asking, she charged a lot of food (and I'm talking wine and t-bone steaks) and some clothing to the account. No, she didn't get fired. As a matter of fact, no one even talked to her about it. She was sent a memo, telling her that her charging privileges had been revoked. That's telling her.

Then there's Loathsome, who is working at our office out of state...much against his will. he's a blue-collar guy who compensates by being unbearably pompous, vain and pretentious. He wears the best clothes money can buy. Loathsome was at a company party one year and, when someone commented about his decision to wear a tee-shirt with dress slacks, he responded with "This shirt cost $200. this is class." Too bad the same could not be said of the person wearing it.

Computer Coot is supposed to be our computer specialist. He's like 95 or something and doesn't know anything about computers. I don't think anyone here has a fully functioning computer. If he doesn't know what's wrong with your computer (which is, oh, about 99.9% of the time), he tells you he doesn't know, but wants you to let him know if it happens again. I guess we should give him credit for honesty, but we're too annoyed that our computers won't work. He spends most of his time downstairs in his office, looking at porn or playing cards.

There are three more people who work here, but I don't have time to tell you about them. I guess I'll just have to get to them tomorrow.

The Past Falls Away

"Prosperity comes from the Latin root which literally translates: 'according to hope' or 'to go forward hopefully.' Thus it is not so much a condition in life as it is an attitude toward life. The truly prosperous person is what psychologist Rollo May calls 'the fully functioning person.'"~ Eric Butterworth, 20th Century Spiritual Teacher

I started out thinking I'd write to you about the issue of enlightenment, but something more pressing has interjected itself into my consciousness. Actually, I've been thinking of this topic all day, but I'm not sure it's going to take me anywhere. I'm sure the thought has lodged itself in my brain for a good reason, so here goes.

Since Becky died, I've felt the past fall away from me. It's as if the events and people in my past had wrapped themselves around me and held on tightly. From this vantage point, it feels like the swaddling has been too tight and I've been unable to move because of it. Of course, so much of my past will probably never let me go. The terrible experiences of my early life aren't holding on from the outside. They're burrowed deep into my existence and still color everything I do, everything I perceive. Trauma doesn't let go. Though I may seem very well adjusted to everyone (even those who know me best), it's only because those waking nightmares I experience are only visible to me. Even in the midst of internal turmoil, I maintain my calm exterior. Sometimes I can only manage to maintain my composure by dissociating. Though I'm not sure I told her everything (I'm almost certain that I haven't), She always understood how deeply I've suffered and what a great victory it's been for me to hide that suffering from others. The past that wraps itself around me is related to the people I knew and loved in my youth. In the months leading up to Becky's death, I felt this incredible need to reconnect with people I haven't seen in over 30 years. I even attempted to contact Michael...just to make sure that he found his way in the world and found people who could appreciate his intelligence. I managed to speak with his mom, who gave me a little update. He's been married for 17 years and he has a daughter who graduated from high school last May. He has a Ph.D. in finance (what a waste of a perfectly good mind) and works as the director of research for a finance company. Apparently he has moved about quite a bit in his career. I wonder if that's because he never fully developed adequate social skills. Unfortunately, too much brain power can be very isolating, especially if it seems that you place too high a value on it.

After I spoke with his mom, I was suicidal for the first time since my father killed himself. He has clearly accomplished his achievement goals, while I languish here being almost useless. I spent a fair amount of time in my youth working to make the world a better place. Somewhere along the way, I decided that there really wasn't much I could do to make any appreciable impact in the world. Then I dedicated myself to making money, but I never really made enough money to actually count myself as being successful. Now, of course, I spend my days as an employee emeritus, not making much of a contribution at all unless you count the emotional impact I seem to still have here. In short, I felt like a failure. Maybe I still do...I'm not certain.

My therapist hastened to point out to me that, having started out my life with so much trauma and so little nurturing that I am, in fact, quite successful. I don't know. I always wanted to transcend my upbringing to such an extent that I could achieve as much as anyone else. She keeps reminding me about the futility of those hopes. That, I suppose, is a part of the suicidal impulse I felt. I recognize intellectually that she's correct. Lately I also think that to fail to recognize my achievements (personal and professional) really reveals a lack of reverence for the abilities I was given, in spite of everything.

No doubt about it, I'm deeply flawed and those flaws have sometimes resulted in people being hurt. I'm so very sorry about that. On the other hand, I was born with the ability to recognize the madness surrounding me and with the determination to free myself from it. People who know something about me always seem to believe that I had something to do with this outcome. It's my contention that I basically hit the genetic jackpot. I arrived in the world with abilities that so many other people (who have not fared as well as I) don't have. That is the reason I am able to reach out to others with compassion, the reason I hold myself to the highest standards, the reason I'm able to find positive aspects of terrible circumstances.

I like to think that I'm finding a new definition of success. That definition embraces the great struggles of my life. The people I once knew are, without a doubt, more professionally successful that I, and maybe they're more successful in their personal lives, too. That's impossible to discern. For me, in spite of everything, I have managed to love people. In spite of everything, I can still laugh...even at myself. In spite of everything, I am able to comfort others who are suffering. That's the beginning of a new vision.

Sexual Abuse, Again

"I am circling around God, the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,
and I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song."

-Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Robert Bly

Well it's a very scattered day today. I'm helping to answer the phone here because Karen left this morning. Hmmm....seems to be a recurring pattern here, but no one wants to actually confront the issue. I could, of course, but I won't. When Karen started using the corporate credit card to buy food, gifts, get her car fixed. etc., no one ever said anything to her about it.
She was sent an email revoking her credit card privileges, but that was it. Can you believe that? She would have been in my office the moment I found out about it and we would have had a very serious discussion. This company is like a riderless horse.

I saw my psychiatrist today...just the usual check the meds kind of visit. I've been feeling like a slacker lately since I cut back on my (previously) rigorous workout schedule. It's a little ironic that the reason I finally started limiting my workouts was because she told me a couple of visits ago that I could wind up with congestive heart failure. Then Becky died about six months later of heart failure. Her death has kept me vigilant about giving in to my need for overwork. I told her that I hadn't gone back to my old schedule of an hour a day, five days a week, but I decided to eliminate some more food items from my diet.

She suggested that I might be obsessing about body issues in order to distract myself from some more difficult issue. Wonder what that might be. I'm willing to accept that explanation, but there are so many ways in which I don't meet my own expectations that I don't really even know where to begin. Maybe it's related to the sexual abuse I started to talk about, but then didn't because of Becky's death. Who the hell knows.

I'm certainly willing to acknowledge that I'm still angry about it and I haven't forgiven the perpetrator. (Well, there was a lot of sexual abuse in my life and certainly more than one perpetrator.) My therapist says that my emotions around those events are frozen in time, so when I start to think about it, I react the same way I did when I was five. I either dissociate or I'm overcome with anxiety. I think rage is one of those emotions I'm not all that comfortable feeling. This issue is certainly rage-inducing. I've been watching a trial on Court tv about a little girl who was sexually abused when she was three. I don't actually know when my own abuse started, but I know I was under the age of five because the time I remember when I attempted to escape from him occurred when I was five. I tried to persuade my father to not leave me with him, but got nowhere. Then, when everyone was gone, I tried to hide in the bathroom so he couldn't find me. Clearly, abuse had already happened prior to that time.

I do know that eating disorders are frequently caused (in part) by sexual abuse. I don't have an eating disorder, just strong tendencies. So maybe that's the issue. Fuck. I don't know. I won't see my therapist until Friday, so I guess I have till then to figure it out. Of course, now I've upset myself. I guess I'll just go back to work now and try to calm myself down.