Welcome to the weekend!
Of course, when you are all-but retired, every day is the weekend.
It is now October. I am coming up on two years since I retired from my job in the civil service. I do not miss the job in the slightest. I seldom think about the actual job I did. I am forgetting the names of some of the people I worked with. Some of the horrendous treatment I suffered is fading away like a bad sunburn. But some of it remains with me and flares up from time to time, like an especially bad sunburn.
A regular reader of this blog wrote last year about his own experiences as a civil servant, and how getting over those years and sometimes reflecting on them involuntarily is a form of PTSD. I could not agree more. I still think about how one guy would yell at me as a form of morning greeting. He knew just the right thing to say to upset me and throw me off my game, so he did it a lot.
I tell myself two things. One: I worked with that so-and-so for ten years. Two: I have not worked with that so-and-so for 23 years. It should mean that all these years that I should have a measure of peace with that pig, but the best I could muster was an attempt at being civil when I saw him around the downtown.
There were a couple other people over the years who got to me in a special way, who would yell at me and make me feel small just because they were in a position to do so and enjoyed it. I try mightily not to think about those times, and those people, but it is a struggle not to, on nights when I find it hard to sleep or days when things have slowed down to a crawl.
The more I think about it, the more I think my blog fan is 100% right. Getting over a job that affected your self esteem and very psyche is a form of PTSD.
I am still trying. I think I will get there one day.
Talk at you tomorrow.
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