a woman's worth
Yesterday when I was talking to one of the store higher-ups about what was going on with the forum he asked me an interesting question-- Why did I feel I felt that I needed to go through the whole process of writing a letter and gather signatures? If I had seen problems, why hadn’t come directly to Store Leadership with my concerns?
This question really made me think about the way I view structures of authority. Quite simply I don’t have a lot of faith in them. I don’t trust the system, even when I know the people who it is made up of. I don’t believe that they care about my well being or that they will protect me or look out for my best interest.
Looking at my personal history, it’s fairly easy to see where I get this mistrustful attitude—it can be traced back to the bullying and abuse I experienced as a child and the fact that neither my parents nor teachers did anything about it. When I complained about what was happening to me it was seen as something that was my fault. It was up to me to change. If I was being picked on for being fat, I should lose weight. If I was mocked for my shyness and awkwardness I needed to be more outgoing and friendly.
When I was in sixth grade I had my first serious depressive episode. The symptoms were fairly obvious. I gained about sixty pounds, cried frequently; spoke rarely, lost interest in everything. The only memory I have of anyone noticing was my teacher telling me sarcastically to “have a good cry, go down the river.”
I’m only 36 years old but when I compare things in my childhood to the way my niece and nephew are being raised it seems like it was another era, a harsh, brutal, primitive time where things like peer abuse and mental illness could be ignored by those in authority.
I think most children grow up believing that their parents and teachers will help them and look out for them. I grew up believing they wouldn’t, that they didn’t care, that I wasn’t worth their notice. As a result I have always felt cut off and on my own. If I have a problem I see it as my problem. I don’t ask for help because I don’t believe it will be given.
Unfortunately, this point of view was reinforced later in my life. When I was living in Upstate New York working for the county government one of the social workers in the office where I was secretary was viciously mean to me on a regular basis. It was a pattern with her. The secretary before me had actually left because of the way the social worker mistreated her. The office supervisor knew what was going on but her way of dealing with the problem was to advise me to wait it out as the social worker was going to be moving on to another job eventually.
Most of my life, I’ve gotten the message to put up and shut up and I’ve taken that message to heart. I didn’t go directly to Store Leadership because at this point in my life, I honestly can’t think of a time when a system has ever worked in my favor. The idea that what I had to say, just me personally, would count for anything never occurred to me.
That seems like sort of a sad statement. I’ve really internalized the idea that I lack value and power and I want to change that. I want to feel like I’m worth something, like I deserve to be happy and well treated. Yet even writing those words makes me cringe. I feel like it’s wanting too much, feeling entitled to something I don’t deserve.
This question really made me think about the way I view structures of authority. Quite simply I don’t have a lot of faith in them. I don’t trust the system, even when I know the people who it is made up of. I don’t believe that they care about my well being or that they will protect me or look out for my best interest.
Looking at my personal history, it’s fairly easy to see where I get this mistrustful attitude—it can be traced back to the bullying and abuse I experienced as a child and the fact that neither my parents nor teachers did anything about it. When I complained about what was happening to me it was seen as something that was my fault. It was up to me to change. If I was being picked on for being fat, I should lose weight. If I was mocked for my shyness and awkwardness I needed to be more outgoing and friendly.
When I was in sixth grade I had my first serious depressive episode. The symptoms were fairly obvious. I gained about sixty pounds, cried frequently; spoke rarely, lost interest in everything. The only memory I have of anyone noticing was my teacher telling me sarcastically to “have a good cry, go down the river.”
I’m only 36 years old but when I compare things in my childhood to the way my niece and nephew are being raised it seems like it was another era, a harsh, brutal, primitive time where things like peer abuse and mental illness could be ignored by those in authority.
I think most children grow up believing that their parents and teachers will help them and look out for them. I grew up believing they wouldn’t, that they didn’t care, that I wasn’t worth their notice. As a result I have always felt cut off and on my own. If I have a problem I see it as my problem. I don’t ask for help because I don’t believe it will be given.
Unfortunately, this point of view was reinforced later in my life. When I was living in Upstate New York working for the county government one of the social workers in the office where I was secretary was viciously mean to me on a regular basis. It was a pattern with her. The secretary before me had actually left because of the way the social worker mistreated her. The office supervisor knew what was going on but her way of dealing with the problem was to advise me to wait it out as the social worker was going to be moving on to another job eventually.
Most of my life, I’ve gotten the message to put up and shut up and I’ve taken that message to heart. I didn’t go directly to Store Leadership because at this point in my life, I honestly can’t think of a time when a system has ever worked in my favor. The idea that what I had to say, just me personally, would count for anything never occurred to me.
That seems like sort of a sad statement. I’ve really internalized the idea that I lack value and power and I want to change that. I want to feel like I’m worth something, like I deserve to be happy and well treated. Yet even writing those words makes me cringe. I feel like it’s wanting too much, feeling entitled to something I don’t deserve.