I Created The Sound of Madness

It's not as though I have the worst job on the planet.  Of course that's not true.  Aside from inhaling toxins, there a lot of positives.  And my boss isn't really that bad.  In fact he mostly leaves me to my own devices, is generous and generally wants to be your buddy on a good day.  He occasionally picks on me for the sake of picking on me and the accusing me of senseless things that don't matter and aren't true grate on me to no end--no matter how stupid it is.  It's more natural for me to dwell on the negatives of things...focus, focus, focus--no matter how hard I want to stop.  I can't seem to get my mind off that thing that bothers me.  Or that thing that was said to me.

Of course, I am aware my boss may know of and read this blog because a stupid facebook mistake I made a couple years ago.  If he, or anyone else, doesn't liek what they read all one has to do is stop reading it.  I've never asked so I cannot be sure but there seems to be a different air the next morning after a posting of "I hate my job" rantings.  It's as if he's being very careful around the carzy person that might very likely shop up one day with a fully automatic rifle. 

When I was very young I learned of one such character, a disgruntled postal worker who showed up one day and fired upon his former coworkers.  I decided early on that I would seek out he workplace crazy person and be very, very nice to them.  Naturally, I've come to realize that I am the workplace crazy person.  Although at my workplace it's hard to tell one from the other as we have many crazy people.  I'd never do such a thing, however.  I read the newspaper in the morning and shake violently when I read of a woman who's been raped to death or when those two teenage girls stuck a kitten in a microwave and turned the power on (the kitten survived and was adopted).  I shake because it angers me someone would behave this way.  It angers me that God would even bother to allow the sperm into the egg that created these people.  It angers me because this is nothing compared to other sufferings and I cannot do a thing about it but shake and cry and be angry.

See?  Crazy.

My boss, at one time or another and more than one, has reminded me how emotional I am--as if I needed this pointed out to me.  Although he hasn't done it in a while, I still can't shake the memory of it and it STILL irritates me.  That's the curse of a freakish memory.  It's helpful at times, and a curse at others.  I'm emotional because of things that have happened to me, the need to defend myself and survive.  Fight or flight.  I'm a fighter.  After many years of that I've become very defensive about every tiny, useless thing, no matter the unimportance.  It's become like a reflex.

After years and years and years of being told that you're fat, ugly, stupid and worthless, you not only start to believe it, it becomes ingrained into your very well being.  Even though I do believe I am a little dumb, I am smart enough to recognize that I was brainwashed.  And brainwashing can take years and years to erase.  My husband has helped a bit, but he fails to realize what it's like inside for me.  (It's a mess in here)

So, boss, if you are reading my posts, I apologize for being so blunt and please do not treat me differently tommorow because I really do have a gentle soul behind all this anger (ask my pets) and I do not wnat you sympathy for anything I've written.  I don't ask for it and I don't want it.  Sympathy will not help me to solve my problems.