A Foray Into Shyness (Pt I)

I am in the middle of a major life change now, while already in the middle of recovering from a trauma I never realized had victimized me, decades ago. This recovery period is now into its fifth year. But now, as of the past two weeks . . . and months, even . . . the first major life event has occurred, since the beginning of the recovery process in 2020.

I can respond differently than I ever have before. 

My mother died. 

May 25th, 1:30am. In her room. In her home. With all four kids, two children-in-law, and two grandkids present. She fought bitterly against the vast sweep of hospice care, and heroically. But finally breathed her last, and fell asleep. 

I have been her primary caregiver for the past five years, at least. It was then that she began to lose her grip on her cognitive and physical abilities. 

As her decline progressed, we all failed to note the milestones. We could see changes, but just attributed it to her having a bad day. "We'll improve her diet. We'll make sure she gets more sleep. That will turn things around."

But the decline of dementia does not work that way. There is a long, steady, but certain slide into losing one's independence and quality of life. Towards the end, the decline pivoted into more of a nose-dive.

Our response to Mom's decline is parallel to my response to trauma - two major traumas in my life, which precipitated all the others. 

My traumas were these:

  1. Treatment by the University of Michigan bureaucracy (Doctors, Educators, Administrators, Authority Figures) and
  2. Treatment by Nortel's hierarchy and others (Human Resources, Executives, Friends and Colleagues, the ACLU and NAACP)
Both traumas created habitual responses on my part, that impacted the rest of my life: career, relationships, friendships, overall wellness. My decades of anxiety most likely culminated from the experiences. Other minor traumas followed: A person, once marked, becomes easier prey for the next predator. 

My reversal began with the shock that was dealt my system, thanks to the Robert Anderson case taking shape. I spoke to other victims and whistleblowers. I knew I was not alone, I was not crazy, and the physical sensation in my chest was not because I was "out of shape."

Our experience caring for our Mom was traumatic to all of us. We did not recognize it. We did not know it was there. But it put strains on our relationships with our Mom and each other. It layered upon my own spirit, that was in the midst of addressing the afore-mentioned serious life traumas. 

The trauma was broken upon Mom's own death . . . when we began to grieve, and to see clearly what we had been through (eventually - - - it is all still a fog to me). 

But I have entitled this post "A Foray into Shyness," and have not even begun to go there yet. Let me make it a two-parter, and end Part One right here. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Change the World

My life mission had been clear from the very start. In high school, I knew that I could have chosen several different paths, any of which might easily have led to success, both financial and emotional. My options were all quite appealing: Music Performance or Education. This was the path where I had the most professional backers. My music teachers in school urged me to go there. They wrote letters. The military sounded good. I liked the benefits, the clearly-defined path to advancement, the early retirement. The requisite career choices for "smart people": Engineering, Medical School, Law School. I considered the ministry, and thought about diving into government and politics. Or maybe, learn a skill like piano-tuning, and build it up into a practice.  Any one of these had promise. They each could virtually guarantee that I would not want. And I would arrive with the resources to do a lot of good in the world.  But I wanted to "change the world."As a post-Watergate...
Read more

To Change the World, Intro

This post was first published on November 25, 2020.  2023 Intro : Since first posting this entry, I have continued to expand my understanding of myself, and the world. Here I write about getting myself cut off at the knees, by first two teacher colleagues that I had come to respect and trust; and then via a helpful point by a member of the University of Michigan School of Education faculty. It was particularly devastating, because the comments all came from teachers . . . you know, the people that are supposed to build us up and prepare us to become productive citizens.  But that's the story of the Boulder for me. These teachers were the boulder for me then. Why did I want to "change the world"? You see, actually, these other teachers were right. I was trying to change the world. But isn't that why most of them became teachers? To change the world? How is it that they made it into a derogation, at least in my case?  This is the Boulder in the years surrounding 2005. A...
Read more

A Slap in the Digital Face

I joined Nortel Networks in July of 1988. My path into the corporate world had been long and maybe a little aimless. Having earned my MBA from Texas Christian University, in 1985, I embarked upon an unrewarding and frustrating wilderness in a handful of Southeastern Michigan small technology businesses. People kept wanting to hire me into Sales. A mentor told me, years later, that it was assumed I would be good in Sales because I looked honest.  Years later . . . in 2020, I began to see an impediment in my career path, a giant, invisible boulder that prevented positive movement on my part. It was a boulder put their, beginning with two initials traumatic experiences of abuse, followed by a third major experience in the 1990s, that amounted to severe emotional abuse and trauma. I was making counter-productive decisions and plans. I was doing things that made me more vulnerable to predators (they are more prevalent than we think), which in turns made me more vulnerable yet. With edit...
Read more