Dear Hearts,
Galatians 5:1 “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”
I was completely honest in my evaluation of the supervisor at Burning Bed. I had no idea we would be asked to evaluate our supervisors. I’ve never done that before. (And, um, two days is not enough time to write potentially five evaluations.)
I could have been ingratiating and gave Tonya all wonderful, glowing remarks, but I’d be lying.
Huh, that’s a commandment: “Thou shalt not lie.”
(Except when it comes to your 97-year-old grandfather and saying you mailed something Saturday night even though you didn’t. It will go out in the mail Monday. Mail DOES NOT go out on Sunday.)
So, for one of the few times in my life, I was honest about my boss.
Oh, I was all kinds of paranoid and covered my tracks because I had to print the evaluation out at work and I did not want the file traced back to my computer login. Not that it would take Sherlock detective work to figure out who wrote the evaluation, which went directly to the Executive Director. If he chooses to show Tonya my remarks and I face retaliation—then…
“Boy, bye.”
EVALUATION BEGINNING
What one change could be made by this person to better support you in your role?
Tonya is great at what she does; I wish I had her knowledge and experienced skills. However, she is not always consistent in her expectations. For example, I am trained to write a legal referral and then I am told not to write a legal referral. I am told to find a legal advocate instead or if she is in the room, she takes the call. So, I really don’t know whether I should write a legal referral.
Tonya is a good person. I have learned that she cannot be my friend. I don’t expect that. But, she acts as a friend and then comes down as a supervisor. These boundaries are not consistent or compatible.
She told me that she can deflect the consequences of my mistakes with the DV Department, but not the SV or ED Department. I was told to not get into trouble with the other departments. And, I do make mistakes and I want to learn from my mistakes—but not have a “good parent/bad parent situation.”
If you have concerns or problems with this individual, have you shared them with him or her?
I do not feel comfortable sharing my concerns with Tonya because I don’t know what the repercussions or her reaction will be. I honestly question my own judgment in being so honest in this evaluation. Depending on who has access to this evaluation, it will not be hard to figure out who I am. Tonya does an amazing job, but I do not trust her 100% as a supervisor.
Further comments:
I have never worked in an atmosphere that is this gossipy, back-biting, and mean. People don’t all get along. But, the division in the staff is, in my experience, unparalleled.
“Do not trust Sally, Nancy, or Melissa.”
“Don’t do it this way.”
“No, you should do it this way.”
“Sally is a bully and comes into work hung over.”
“People are talking about you. They are asking me what is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?”
“If you make one mistake that is what people will remember and talk about.”
“Melissa is mad at you.”
“Stay under the radar and you won’t get in trouble.”
“I don’t care how Nancy says to do it, you should do it this way. I’m saying Michael won’t like the way Nancy tells you to do it.”
“Everything you say can be used against you.”
“Don’t admit to any mistakes.”
“What’s your problem? Get it right or the other supervisors are going to come to you and say, ‘what the fuck?’ ”
I want to be clear. I am dedicated to Burning Bed. I am dedicated to the work I do at Burning Bed. I am dedicated to the clients. I just want to do my job and the people who work here inspire me. But, I don’t personally trust anyone professionally or otherwise. I feel as though there is always the chance “I will get in trouble.” I want to stay and grow at Burning Bed. I want to be an advocate. This is the work that I am called to do.
I wish it were different. I believe in Burning Bed and its mission. I am here to stay, but I hope that the staff as a whole can develop a healthier and more relationship with one another. The people I work with are good people and they are utterly devoted to all of the clients. The clients do come first. But this riptide of vitriol is unfortunate. I think Burning Bed could be even better and we even serve the clients better if we came together. I don’t know what to do or suggest…
Those Resource Workshops that were often scheduled on people’s days off were not helpful. I would rather have written a paragraph about each resource after doing research online. They weren’t mandatory, then they are mandatory—for some people. I will go to events and support Burning Bed outside of my “work hours,” and I do not mind attending two staff meetings a month (those are necessary), but to add an additional five meetings was not feasible for me. I recognize and appreciate all the work that Tonya put into the Resource Workshops. I really do. Perhaps, in the future, they can be structured differently.
I appreciate the opportunity to submit an evaluation. Thank you.
EVALUATION ENDING
As I was committing a mortal sin yesterday and this morning by not going to Mass and running instead I thought about Christ. Turn the other cheek. Forgive your brother 77 times and then another 77 time, give your brother, who is suing you, you shirt and trousers…
There had to be a wolf in Christ. The Roman Empire killed him because he wouldn’t tow the line.
And, I ain’t no Christ.
So, I called Dad, my Go-To Theologian. “Don’t cast your pearls before swine.”
“You’ve turned your cheek so many times your head is spinning,” said Dad.
The Bible does not approve of domestic abuse, so logic would follow that neither would the Bible condone an abuse. “Love your neighbor…”
If I loved my neighbor the way I love myself, I would be in trouble. Last night, I had a whole inner debate why I was or was not a stupid fucking bitch.
I used to enjoy going to Burning Bed. Now, I document everything. I keep track of my mistakes. I document whispers of selective parties. I document others breaking the “rules.”
I don’t want to fucking live like that.
NO. I won’t live like that.
Yeah, I make mistakes. But I also do good.
If the evaluation above is used against me—then really—“I ain’t sorry, nigga, nah.”
Hold on, I gotta go get my latte and treat. And order a puzzle for G-Pa.
Okay. I’m back
Aunt Faerie and I usually go to the Garden Café Sunday afternoons, but she and Bugsy took G-Pa to this restaurant about a half hour from here instead. I can’t eat their food. It does not settle with me right. So G-Pa got his famous ham loaf and a ride at the same time! I like ham, sometimes. But it is never supposed to be in the form of a loaf topped with what looks like something Maddie coughed up. Just, ew.
So I was alone! I left the bedroom shade up! Rebellion!
As a result, I HAD NO WHERE TO GO today. I ONLY left the house for coffee and an Amish Pumpkin Cinnamon Roll. I love not being scheduled.
I digress. The takeaway here is I don’t want to live an inauthentic life anymore. I don’t want to smile while being smacked with a yardstick. Nosy Nancy is not going to make me redo a phone message or move my car. Fuck her.
I have my own chains of slavery that I keep myself in. I don’t need others adding to those chains. I may be depressed and poor—but I am living truly to myself.
I don’t know what God’s plan for me is. I don’t really see a future. I don’t have dreams. But, I am doing more than just surviving.
I hit the wall Friday. G-Pa has a catheter now. Dr. Uro, you were not right! Asshole. I have had this ominous feeling since last weekend when G-Pa first started having trouble with his bladder. His kidneys and bladder are done. Not dialysis done—but he will never pee on his own again. And, I think he is working on a UTI. We go back to the MD on Wednesday. The game plan is to give him a cath he can insert twice a day himself. Not gonna happen. He will not be able to do it. Aunt Faerie, I am not borrowing trouble, but I think the answer is going to be a “permanent catheter.” This is a whole other level of care.
He told Mom in an email to her that he doesn’t think he “could do it without me.”
Silence.
I am grateful to be able to give him some measure of comfort. Even if he got soup on Friday night instead of salmon because soup was all I could do.
I took him for a ride yesterday afternoon. About an hour. I drove 10 to 15 miles below the speed limit and stopped at each stop sign for “one and two and three..”
Then we went out to the graveyard so he could some fake flowers on people’s (whom he holds dear heart) graves. I got yelled at for not stopped long enough as I merged onto a one-way street.
He has this voice. This “you are shit” voice. I didn’t yell, any more than I usually have to raise my voice to him. But I didn’t back down.
“You will get a ticket…you have not been driving in the Mid-West for 25 years…If you had to take an Illinois driving test you would fail (I have a legal Illinois license via a written test)…You ought to be ashamed of yourself…I’ve talked with other people for the East Coast and they are ashamed at how they drive…You going the wrong way! (I wasn’t)…”
That’s the gist.
The “you ought to be ashamed of yourself” is what got me. Trigger. And, I can tell myself he is not Arthur or T., but I can’t mitigate how that phrase in that tone makes me see red. Logically, I know it is of no consequence. But, emotionally…
HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING LICENSE AND HE HAS ME HIDE THE KEYS BECAUSE OTHERWISE, HE SAYS HE WOULD DRIVE WITHOUT A LICENSE.
Let’s see: not fully stopping at a stop sign versus driving with an expired license.
I don’t want to jinx myself, knock on wood, by the Grace of God, I have never gotten a ticket or been in an irresponsible accident.
It’s his brain misfiring. The filters are deteriorating like his bones.
Thankfully, Aunt Faerie was understanding enough to let me drive me to her house, drop his ass off, and have my Coffee Hour, then pick him up. She called me “honey” and told me that it would be okay. Her support meant so much. And, she still fed me chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and peas.
I came to The Holy City intellectually prepared to deal with caregiving, but not emotionally, not really. I love him, but I also sometimes want to scream at him “GO FUCK YOURSELF, ASSHOLE!”
I have emerged from The Bottom of the Well and I am living life sort of, but the light is blinding after so long.
Last night, just before bed, I started to have a bad episode. I popped two Xanax and shook until I fell asleep.
SSDD. NO BOUNCE, NO PLAY. SCOOBY, SCOOBY DOO, WE GOT A LOT OF WORK TO DO NOW. I DUDDITS!
Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless
In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.
Grateful For:
Movie night
Running under the full moon
Family
Health
Stephen King movies
Angel
Lattes
Reading
Cigarettes
All my blessings
PS: I am sorry to the Xfinity people I cursed out. I am not proud of that. I always take my frustration out on foreign and domestic customer service agents. It’s not right and I need to do better.
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