The land of bad times.

If you've been following my recent Facebook posts, you already know about the photograph fiasco at work.  Basically, to sum it up, someone had taken my picture at work, I asked them to stop, they continued, I got very angry and pretty much stood up for myself.  That incident has caused me a lot of headache, and a lot of tears, this past week.  But there is that small silver lining in that I demanded that something I didn't like come to an end.  Which it did. 

 

The atmosphere at work lately has been less than stellar, anyhow.  Morale is very low, and we're pretty much all sick of one another - at least, I'm sick of them, for sure.  One of the people I worked very well with was recently transferred to another unit, and it's been really kind of... just not fun around here anymore.  Still, I persevere, as it's my only way to pay off this massive mortgage I now hold. 

 

The odd thing is that while I was in the middle of writing this very post - the last paragraph, as a matter of fact - one of the clients that I used to serve on a regular basis stopped in for a quick visit.  He's definitely one of the agency's "success stories", if you will.  He has his own business, is a motivational speaker to other offenders, the works.  Doing really well.  Anyhow, he stopped in to say hello and we got to chatting a little bit.  He said to me that I'd helped him, and I just responded back that he was now paying it foward.  It was a good conversation. 

 

At least I'm valuable to someone.

 

I am discovering that, to my dismay, I have the same tendency as my mother once did to let people just walk all over me for the sake of "peace".  The same exact thing that I used to despise about her, I've become.  It hurts so much that I've become her in a lot of ways.  I never wanted my life to end up like this. 

 

In any case, it no longer matters, as I only do what I'm asked to do, and no more than that.  I am treated like a pariah here - I do ALL of the work, I am never offered any kind of assistance unless they're forced to do so, and it's been made clear that my feelings are of zero consequence.  Not much different from my personal life, actually.

 

It's my fault, really.  I've become inured to people walking all over me.  And it's a bit late to try and stand up for myself now, because it causes nothing but angry reactions.  I don't know what it is about me that makes people think they can just do whatever the fuck they please to me and that I won't say boo.  Little do they know that I probably have the worst temper on the planet.  Before I entered the "customer service" industry, my temper was literally that of a hair-trigger.  I've actually learned to contain my anger over the years, partially because I couldn't scream at the idiot across the counter from me - not if I wanted to keep my job, anyway.

 

Unfortunately, I've been in that industry for too long now.  Because I no longer know how to express anger when it's warranted - until it's too late and that one, tiny little feather falls on my shoulders that already hold more weight, more anger, more screaming fury, than they can handle.  All it takes now is a single feather.... and one day, one day, I will break, crack, start screaming my rage and never fucking stop.

 

I only hope that whatever unfortunate that is in that path will recognize the warning signs and get....away.  Before they get caught up in that rage.  Because when it happens... and it will, eventually.... I will wound whoever is in my way with the most hurtful, cutting, nasty words that were ever created.  If it ever comes out, I will lose everything I have - my job, the few friends I have left... everything.  My rage is un-fucking-paralleled.  Could it even turn physical?  I want to say no, but you know what?  I couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't.

 

This is what happens when you're abused by nearly everyone you know for most of your life.  The rage grows.  And grows.  And spreads.  Like a cancer. Until it's pretty much consumed almost every fiber of your being.  

 

I'm sure that some would laugh at this post and the words in it.  Bad mistake. 

 

Am I a ticking timebomb?  I don't really know.  In the end, if anything were to happen... I'd probably turn the violence against myself.  Because, after all, if I were to be honest with myself.... I hate not only the world, but myself as well.

 

Some days I see no hope.  This is one of them. 

 

Sorry for the downbeat tone.  I really, really am.