Saturday, February 17, 2024

False Confidence

 I'll admit that there is another blog post sitting in my saved drafts that further blasts my experience and the mismanagement at the foundation.  It felt good to write it and to get it all out there, however, I've decided that it will stay in my drafts.  While everything I said was true, even to the point of hopefully being constructive criticism, in my heart I know that publishing it won't effect any change.  And, might just further damage the image of an organization that, at the heart of the matter, is doing good and important work.  Do I believe management changes need to be made, yes.  But do I think my words will change that? No.

During my tenure at the foundation I couldn't hear these lyrics without being brought to tears:

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And you're the hero flying around saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet  - My Tears Ricochet, Taylor Swift

Last week I was at lunch with a friend and she asked how I was doing with everything.  Specifically, how was I feeling towards the foundation and the people who hurt me.  It actually brought me to a complete pause (or, as Cher Horowitz would say "I totally paused") because I realized for the first time that I wasn't angry anymore.  Like, I actually sat there and pondered and tried to work up anger, and I couldn't.  It was an amazing feeling.  And, one that I feel quite proud of.  I feel like I'm taking back my self confidence and my power.

I don't know if it's just a factor of time, or personal growth, or that I actually feel like a total badass because I have single handedly remodeled a bathroom during this time, but I feel so content and happy with where I am right now.  While I wouldn't go back to the foundation for all the money in the world, I genuinely want their mission to be a successful one. 

Someone that I know recently returned from a program that was held in Montana.  I reached out to her this week because I wanted to hear how her experience was.  I know how transformative it was for me, and I hoped the same for her.  Her response made me both happy and sad.  Happy because she had a great experience and felt restored after her time there.  Sad because I could tell that she thought I wanted to hear a bad report.  It was further confirmation that leaving my follow up post to dwell in permanent draft purgatory was the right call.  I hope most of my friends know me well enough to know I am not that kind of vindictive.  I was hurt, I was mistreated, I was mismanaged.  All of those things are true.  AND YET, the work that is being done is good, the heart of most of the organization is true and I want as many people as possible to be impacted in a positive way.

I was in the car yesterday and was again brought to tears by a song. 

Don't let those demons in again

I fill the void up with polished doubt, fake sentiment

Surrender yourself

And I wonder why I tear myself down to be built back up again

Oh, I hope somehow, I'll wake up young again

All that's left of myself,

Holes in my false confidence

And now I lay myself down and Hope I wake up young again - False Confidence, Noah Kahan

 I will never stop being a person that trusts too easily, and, possibly, too much.  I always want to believe the best in people. I've lost count of the number of times my poor husband has had to stand by and watch me throw myself into a situation that he knows will hurt me, but also knows he can't keep me from (the perils of being an expert in human behavior,  I suppose).  But I'll do it again.  I'll let myself be torn down, but I'll come back.  I always do.  I wake up young again. 

Sunday, January 14, 2024

The End

** This is long.  And not my best writing.  I promised a post updating about my experience over this past year.  This is the best I can do.**

It's been almost a month now that I've been trying to figure out how to tell the story of what happened with my job situation in the last year, specifically the culmination of my time with my former employer (we will call it the foundation).  The words seem to come to me in starts and stops - but never when I'm able to sit and write out the whole story.  I feel a little bit like a 2 liter bottle of coke - I've been on a ride for the last year where I tried to hold on the best I could, but I was repeatedly picked up and shaken to the point of wanting to explode.  Then, I'd be set down and left alone to do my job for just long enough that the bubbles would subside, until, again, I would experience a shake up.  Now, I'm trying to gently pry the lid off to share my experience, but it feels like it's impossible to crack the top without creating a mess.  As I alluded to in my post a few weeks ago, not wanting to create a mess is what has kept me quiet on this blog for so long, and I'm done with that.  So here we go.  

Ryan and I were recently talking about another situation in my life that I'm currently processing and he made the point that rarely is a situation black and white where there is one side that is 100% right and another side that is 100% wrong.  This story that I have to tell is a great example of this...  The foundation has an amazing mission and I hope it will continue for many years.  It was this mission that, when they offered me a part time position (at a fairly low hourly rate) I was willing to sacrifice my stable, full time, flexible, fully benefited, salaried job at AAFMAA to pursue helping a community that I was excited to serve.  I knew that it would be a financial sacrifice for my family, but I had Ryan's full support in that regard.  He had reservations about the possible emotional toll of the job, but, as always, he supported me and encouraged me to follow my heart.  

It wasn't too long after I started at the foundation that I realized that his concerns about the emotional toll were not only because of the people I would be serving, but actually more because of what he had intuited from his interactions with the person I would be working for.  I was not prepared for the level of anxiety and defensiveness that seemed to permeate so many interactions with her.  Coming from a corporate background, I was used to open communication and the freedom to advocate for myself and my coworkers.  I was absolutely unprepared for the different culture in the non-profit space.  It was like I was just supposed to be so grateful to be working there that I would take whatever was given to me and say "thank you".  My failure to do so, and my belief that candid feedback makes us all better,  got me labeled as a bad egg early on.  From there, it was just a slow, painful journey to the end. 

When I requested mileage reimbursement for programs that required me to drive long distances, I was told that I didn't understand the potential implications of my request, and that people could potentially lose their jobs because I was asking for compensation.  

Occasionally messages would be sent to all on Slack with directives that caused me to question if I was doing my job appropriately, or not.  When I requested a little more clarity when such messages were sent, so I could know if I was doing something that needed to change, the reaction I received indicated that they were offended I would ask!  It was as if I was asking to see the personnel files of each of my teammates.  

A few months later, when it came time for my 6 month review, I tried to honestly approach the questionnaire that had been sent to me in preparation for the meeting and give candid feedback. This was a mistake.  I shared that words of affirmation are very meaningful for me and that I would really appreciate a positive affirmation when I did something well.  I received a stone faced response, where I was told that my management was already pushed to her limit and that she could not, or would not, give me any additional positive feedback.  I was shocked.  As she realized how shocked I was, a verbal avalanche ensued.  From that point on, I spoke 20% of the words while the remaining 80% were spoken by my boss.  I started to shut down at the number of words that were being thrown at me.  I tearfully requested that we end the call as I couldn't respond at that time to all the things that were being said.  She responded by pushing me to answer.  I requested again to end the call, with the same response.  The third time that I requested, she agreed.  Ryan came home to find me sobbing.  I was having a hard time understanding how a simple request had gone so wrong.  His immediate response was that I should quit.  He had seen me pouring my heart and soul into the mission - determined to build a thriving support system for the SOF spouses at Fort Bragg.  In the end, I told him I couldn't quit.  I honestly couldn't imagine walking away from the women we were impacting.  He supported me, but remained very worried. 

A few weeks later we scheduled a follow up call where a third party "mediator" was present.  It was at this point I started to realize how sick the foundation was from an organizational standpoint.  There was no room for honest checks and balances because of the fraught relationship of the people in charge.  And there was no opportunity for an unbiased 3rd party - because no one was willing to speak up for what was right at what could be the cost of their job.  The information that was known about me from previous personality assessments I had done, was actually weaponized against me in these meetings - to show that I was wrong while the other party was right. 

I saw this unhealthy dynamic repeatedly.  When I got on the plane to fly home from my time helping run a program in November, I felt emotionally empty.  It took me a while to process why.  I anticipated the toll that the role I needed to play would take.  But what I had not anticipated, was the anxiety that permeated the program.  To the point others picked up on it and asked why my teammates and I were so obviously anxious, especially when our leader was present.  It felt like a contest to see who could be the best little helper.  When I tried to set healthy boundaries with my time or efforts I looked like a slacker or missed out on important interactions - especially because none of my other teammates were willing to risk losing the approval of our leader by setting similar boundaries.  I won't even get into the absolutely laughable idea that a schedule was given to us that kept us neatly to 40 hours a week, to prevent anyone from working overtime, despite the fact that we each easily worked 12 - 14 hour days the entire time we were there.  But, again, I knew better than to bring it up.  I figured if my questions about mileage reimbursement were offensive, I couldn't imagine the reaction when I pointed out the ethics issues with knowingly letting employees work overtime without compensation.

So, how did it all end?  Again, through all of this I was trying to swallow my ego and pride because I loved the people we were helping.  But the final breaking point was when I realized that they were most likely trying to get rid of me.  I made the decision not to attend a leadership summit that was held the week after Thanksgiving.  The timing was too hard for my family given that I had just returned from my previous trip 10 days prior.  When the summit was over, I received two phone calls. One to let me know that someone else would be facilitating all events over in Fayetteville (effectively cutting my job by about half), and another to let me know that they were capping the hours I could work per week at approximately 30% less than what I was allowed the previous year.   After all that work and effort to build the program I was so hurt that these decisions were made with no warning and no discussion.  I sent an email pushing back, and received a multi-page explanation that was clearly based on covering their ass, and manipulating me into seeing their point of view.  I happened to be at lunch with a dear friend, who is is a mental health expert, when the email came through.  Her reaction when I read it to her confirmed everything that I needed to know.  It was time for me to move on.

So, where am I now as I try to process all of this.  I think one of the things that hurts the most, is that I was often reminded while I worked there, that what mattered most was the SOF community we were serving.  Yet this organization had no trouble offering me a position that took me (a current, active duty, SOF spouse) out of a stable career, then pulling back on what I was promised, with no remorse.

The first few days after I sent my resignation were very sad.  It was the realization that I had given my loyalty and trust to people who didn't deserve or honor it.  Also, the knowledge that there was nothing I could do to control the narrative that was told in my absence.  But since those days, I have grown into an overwhelming sense of peace.  I won't allow myself to be gaslit into thinking that I'm a bad or selfish person for asking questions and requesting fair compensation and reimbursement.  I won't sacrifice time watching my kid's play in soccer tournaments or singing in shows in order to gain a kind of social collateral in an organization that plays it's employees off against one another.  I will miss the women I was able to serve and the message of self care I was able to share.  But I will never regret prioritizing my mental health and my time with my family.

Monday, December 25, 2023

Merry Christmas!

Despite my high hopes, Christmas 2023 will come and go with no Trumbo family Christmas card. This holiday season brought some wonderful highs and some disappointing lows.  Compound that with 6 days spent on a cruise ship during prime Christmas prep time (not that I'm complaining) and a card just was not meant to happen!

To make up for my failure, I'll attempt to create a 2023 recap for friends near and far.

Ryan is entering his last full year on active duty.   It's hard to believe that it's been 23 years since he enlisted in the National Guard to help pay his way through graduate school.  I never could have envisioned what his career would bring but I am so proud of the way he has navigated his time in the military and the lasting difference he has made.  He will begin terminal leave in the spring of 2025 and officially retire in August.  And then ... we will figure it out.  I am considering hiring him as my full time personal chef.  He will need to work hard these next 20 months to prove that he is worthy.

Jake graduated from Pinecrest High School and we are so proud of his hard work and determination.  He still works at Dairy Queen but does his best to stay away from the order window because there are far to many cranky people in Moore County.  Especially when it comes to their ice cream.  He just completed his first full semester at Sandhills Community College and is looking forward to adding drawing classes to his course load for next semester.  He is considering a career in veterinary medicine, but his real dream would be animation.  Who knows!  Jake always amazes us.  We spent Christmas Day putting together his new desk and bookshelves in a mother/son bonding experience.  We both survived.

Ainsley has had a very busy year.  This summer she spent 4 weeks at Governor's School and it was a great experience -she made some amazing friends and learned a lot about what it will be like to navigate life in college.  Speaking of which, she was thrilled to be accepted to Appalachian State University - her first choice!  Ryan is definitely not ready to talk about her leaving for school ...  Her Christmas gifts represented her favorite things: a heated blanket (sleep and heat), a Taylor Swift piano book (purely selfish on her dad's part - anything to give her more reason to play and sing for us) and a warm coat and boots (hiking/the mountains).  She and her sweet boyfriend, Aurelius, spend lots of time hanging out here with our family and I love the craziness of 5 teenagers in the house!

Reid is a sophomore and will turn 16 in a month.  He surprised us by deciding to go back to wrestling after taking his freshman year off - we couldn't be more proud of his hard work and dedication.  Does his decision have anything to do with the fact that his adorable girlfriend, Piper, also wrestles? Maybe.  And we are totally ok with that!  He is officially the tallest member of our family (not that it's a huge accomplishment, as he is quick to point out) and unanimously agreed to be the funniest Trumbo (which is a rather big accomplishment).   For Christmas he got some clothes and shoes and then some cash because, as always,  he is our only true middle child and we forgot to get him as much as we got his other siblings.

Jane Dare is 14 and in her final year of middle school.  She loves soccer and had a blast this year with her travel team from AC Sandhills - it's a truly great group of kids and parents.  Her team won their division and will move up a level next year.  She's excited for her school season (and a little nervous as the only returning starter from last season).  She absolutely keeps us on our toes in all the ways.  Ryan has turned her into his sports fanatic clone and she can recite MLB, EPL and Serie A stats with the best of them.  Her two favorite Christmas gifts were a Lars Nootbar jersey and Ugg slippers which represents how she walks the line between tomboy and bougie white girl quite well.  She is currently single.  

As for me, 2023 has been a LOT.  Days when I have felt like the worst mom in the world followed by days when I think I might be doing something right.  I switched jobs in February, but will end 2023 unemployed.  That is a blog post for another time, and it IS coming, but for now I'm planning projects for 2024 and content to heal a little bit before I throw myself into the job search again.  Back when I was considering the job change, Ryan sweetly tried to warn me that people are HARD.  And my new job was people.  He was right.  

That's about it for the Trumbo crew.  If you've read this far, know that I appreciate that you care.  Sending you all the love this holiday season and into 2024. 


Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Guess who?

 Last month I had the opportunity to reconnect with a very special friend.   She was one of those friends that you take for granted in the whirlwind of life as a young mom when most of your relationships seem to revolve around your kids' activities.  I definitely took her quiet wisdom, graceful presence and calm demeanor for granted as we crossed paths at school drop offs and pick ups, birthday parties and military functions.  

The neat thing about a relationship like that, is when you haven't seen one another in so long, the catch up can serve as an opportunity to reflect on all the sneaky changes that you may not have even processed in your own life.  As we were talking she asked me why I stopped writing, mentioning that she missed hearing what I had to say.  It may be a simple question but the answer is far from simple.  It genuinely caused me to pause and reflect on why I had stopped doing something that was a beautiful outlet for me to share and process.  

While there are many reasons (too busy, lack of inspiration, other priorities, etc) I honestly think the big WHY to my absence is because I was scared.  Up until 2020, my little corner of the world felt like a very safe place. I was comfortable with my beliefs and viewpoints and felt confident that most of the people in my circle saw things in a similar way.  Covid changed all of that.  My church no longer felt like home when those who profess to follow the Bible became more concerned with their "rights" than loving their neighbor.  Additionally, every time I turned around it seemed like someone that I trusted was saying something selfish or hateful on social media.  I spent so much time fuming and plotting at the injustice and self-righteousness of others,  to the point that I also became very self-righteous in MY viewpoints.  All of the blog posts that I started to write went unpublished because I was scared to lose more friends or feel like more of an outsider than I already did.  

So, what changed?  I don't know.  Maybe the reminder from my friend that I didn't just write for me, I wrote so others would know they weren't alone.  Or, the fact that I turn 45 in a few days and I really need to get over what some people might think of me.  Regardless, I am excited to start writing again.  I assure you, it will be sporadic, it will be random and it will piss some people off.  I'll do my best to be ok with that. 

Sunday, March 6, 2022

Outside

 One of these days we are going to have to put a railing back up on our front porch.  Code, safety or some such nonsense as that will hem us in and and steal our away the feeling of freedom I get sitting out on my porch.   I am impulsive, Ryan is active and together we might have some measure of ADHD, so there are many a half finished project around our house.  One such project, that I would argue is so by choice, is our front porch.  One day, about a year ago we got sick of the rotting wood that made up the banister and railing up our steps and across the entrance to our home.  Ryan ripped it all down one day, and has since beautifully finished the columns with cedar.  We had plans and ideas to finish with new railing, but to this date, it sits as it has for months.  Open and free. 

 

I love to sit outside.  To watch my dog laze in the sun without a care in the world.  I love to feel the heat on my skin.  During spring it’s just a whisper here and there as the clouds part and breeze slows and for a moment I feel the promise of summer.  

 

Then a few months later it’s the full heat of summer and late in the day as the oppressive rays start to sink lower in the sky and the days seem to go on forever.  There’s no rushing, no agenda, just time to sit and enjoy. Watch my kids convene on the swing set for an evening chat session.  It ends it tears as often as it ends in laughter, regardless the moments are precious. 

 

In winter its less frequent, but those blissful North Carolina days where there is a sudden reprieve from the cold and gray and the stale air from being indoors all of the time.  A reminder of the summer days that seem so long ago.  A reminder of what has been and what is coming.

 

Fall, my favorite season of all.  Those cool mornings when you get to slip into sweats and cozy socks and sit outside and feel the nip in the air.  Watch the leaves on the maples slip from green to crimson and then to rust and fall to the ground.  When every year we exclaim with delight at the size of the sycamore leaves and compare them to the size of our head.  Where yardwork becomes just an excuse to be outside and doing, moving and breathing. 


Regardless of the season, my moments outside are so precious.  For some reason its one of the only times I feel ok with just sitting, and watching and breathing. I don't feel like I have to be doing and moving.  Not on my phone, not reading a book, not cleaning or organizing.  I can listen to the birds, think my thoughts, watch nature live its life around me.  And my soul says "amen". 

Monday, August 16, 2021

An honest update

 How are you?

I’m good, thanks?

But how’s your knee?

It’s better every day. Thanks so much for asking.


This is how the conversation goes.  I genuinely appreciate the thoughtfulness of anyone who asks But I’m not being completely honest in my answers because it’s just too hard. 


The real answer is “it’s hard”. Very. Very hard. Every day I deal with pain.  And I have to make a choice.  I can sit on my couch and be mostly comfortable.  Or I can choose to keep moving. To get on that bike, to push in my exercises.  I’m pushing against the bad form that keeps creeping in on the bike. My knee begs me to point my toe. My toe begs me to bend my knee. They are fighting each other constantly. 


Pain shoots through my knee at the most random of times as my nerves work to regenerate.  The most common time seems to be around 3 am. Right after I’ve finally drifted off to sleep as I’m still dealing with post joint replacement insomnia. 

Every fucking day.


I’ve still got about 10 hydrocodone left … that’s about the only way I get sleep. But the supply is dwindling and I know the worst thing I could do would be to try and get more. I need to deal with this in a healthy and responsible way. But I’m just so tired. 


Please don’t think I’m not aware of far greater problems in the world. Afghanistan (full stop).  COVID (again, full stop). Tomorrow I get on a plane and fly to Texas to spend 6 days with one of my dearest friends who is quite literally going through hell to save her life.  But that’s not “perspective “. It’s just more heartache. 


So dear ones. That’s my real answer.  I’m fucking tired. 


Tuesday, August 3, 2021

Catharsis

 Looking back through my older posts on Maybe Tomorrow,  I sense a theme.  In the beginning my blog was a place to connect and share funny stories about my kids or my musings on motherhood.  In recent years my blog has become a place of solace for me when I'm facing hard times. I guess the good news is the months that often span between posts are happy and light.  And I certainly have many periods of silence on the blog - for which I am thankful.

Right now is not one of those times.  I can feel the familiar fingers of depression reaching out to try and take hold and drag me down.  Everything in me wants to curl in - make a protective little bubble where nothing can hurt me.  During these times Ryan usually becomes my anchor.  The only thing I feel sure and strong - holding me in place and keeping me from running away.

Every day tasks feel exhausting.  My body is so worn down from all its been through - the act of loading my car after vacation, or cleaning a few rooms, leaves me feeling worn through.  Last night I came home to a mess at our Airbnb - cleaning it took hours as going up and down the stairs is such a challenge.  Afterwards I was too worn out to even think about making dinner.  Cue the feelings of inadequacy and self loathing. 

I catch site of my reflection in a window as I walk into a shop and I am horrified by the unfamiliar curve of my leg, the unnatural gait, the swollen and scarred joint.   Walking into the store the other day, feeling people watch me, I wanted to hide.  Knowing I was being looked at because of my limp and the bend of my knee.  The fear that it won't improve.  That I'll look lopsided and awkward forever.

I was supposed to meet my dear friend at the pool this morning and I cancelled on her.  Because I'm afraid.  I don't know what swimming or pool jogging will look or feel like. I don't know what my cardiovascular system will sustain.  And I don't know if I'm ready to know yet. I don't know that I can handle any more disappointment.  

Maybe you didn't ask, but there is the answer to "how are you doing?".  The answer is, "not great". But as history would show, the periods of sadness, the times when my blog is a catharsis are short, and the greater periods of peace and joy always return.  So for now I will hold onto that hope of a return to silence.