On September 4, 2013 I sold my soul to the devil for a paycheck every two weeks.
At first I thought "It's just not what you are used to. Grin and bear it. You don't have to make these people members of your family."
Slowly but surely I accepted their behavior and dug my heels in like all the people had before me. I accepted mediocre pay and decided that it was an easy job all I had to do was lower my standards.
Which I did. The problem was there was no one to complain to. Issues arose, but I just had to swallow them down because no one gave a care.
Besides, when management is the problem, who do you complain to?
Little by little I felt myself fleeting. Small fragments of my soul being diminished along with my dignity and pride. I would have sleepless nights for the fear of being verbally ripped to shreds the next day. What kind of decision had I made? When all these other decisions I had made in the last few years were for me and my daughter - to make us happy... I sold out.
I would receive verbal beatings all week long, but lunch on Friday - like it made all the abuse just magically disappear. Like when your parent backhands you across the mouth but pulls you in for a hug afterward. They did it out of love, right? I don't treat people like that. I don't pretend to like you if I don't. I don't abuse people. And I certainly don't associate myself with people who do. Yet every single day I went to a job where I was saying "It is okay to abuse me." It is not okay.
If there was only one thing I have taken away from this life it is that I will not put up with someone hurting me - not mentally, emotionally, or physically. A screaming product of why I am alone. An even louder scream of why I will remain alone.
I am okay with this as long as I am okay with myself. And I am. Now that I am no longer punching Hell's time clock. I would rather be poor than have no dignity.