Jealousy: Co-Worker Edition

Because I already have a post titled Jealousy that’s more recent than I thought.

I’m just going to make this a confession post and admit it: the green-eyed monster is real.

Yes, I’m jealous.

I’m jealous of the manager who gets to work with her boyfriend and her best friend, train the latter, and was able to get her best friend hired for said reason (her boyfriend was already there). She gets to spend all her breaks and most of her shift with him/her/them as a result. I once did have a good friend of mine at work during 2017’s seasonal period and it was awesome! I miss her being there so much, but she moved on to a better job, so I’m not unhappy she stayed. I just miss having my friend work with me. I’d kill to be able to work with my best friend or my boyfriend, and being able to share a job with both would be an absolute miracle I’d thank fate/destiny/whatever every day for.

I’m jealous of the co-workers who get nearly a week off, and who get a weekend day off. I work every weekend, and even when my schedule was limited due to school, I never had half a week off, let alone nearly an entire week. I can’t get a weekend off unless I request it and the request is approved. I can’t remember the last time I did have a Saturday or a Sunday off, let alone both. I think I’d cut my arm off just for the privilege.

Yes, I enjoy money, but I also enjoy having my sanity intact and having time for anything else instead of having to force it because I’m dead tired. Call it “adulthood” if you want. My sanity is still slipping and I feel nothing for my job but my frustration. I do not care about customer service. I do not care about cashiering. I don’t even care about being on time (though I still am). Honestly, I just care that I get through and go home. The only reason I haven’t left is I’ve found nothing that’s worth leaving for. Any retail job would be the same, and retail is utter trash.

Stay out of retail, kids.

No Forgiveness

A comic I will not link to because it’s maddening prompted this post.

I have a big problem with the concept of forgiveness. It’s supposed to be “healing”. As far as I’ve been able to see, it’s a way to excuse the bad things people do.

The comic was about bullying. In summary, the artist’s childhood bully was once her friend, but ditched her because she (the bully) became popular. Artist finds the bully on Facebook years later to discover she and the other kids who mistreated her have grown up and live normal lives while the artist wishes she could erase those awful years from her life.

I know the feeling.

The title described it as a “heart-melting comic”, but there is nothing that melts my heart about knowing people can mistreat or flat-out ruin years of your life with no remorse and carry on like normal while you live with the after effects. I consider those people borderline sociopaths.

Yes, people can argue there’s no point in being angry years later and, to an extent, I agree. However, as far as I am concerned, I have the right to be angry with my bullies because they made my school life a living hell, and the adults had zero power to stop it (heads up: “tell an adult” is the most worthless advice that can ever be given in regards to bullying). They are part of the reason I want to burn my childhood to ashes, and I am supposed to forgive them because time passed? Because “kids will be kids” {so, why bother with discipline?)? Of course, they’ve moved on. Bullies don’t have remorse or they wouldn’t do it. But they do not deserve forgiveness and I won’t forgive them because, even if I will never see them again, I refuse to justify and excuse what they did to me!

No, it’s not okay to hurt someone because it will be in the past. No, it’s not okay for children to be bullies because they are children. No, time passing does not excuse someone’s abusive actions. And no, I do not wish any of my bullies a happy life. Perhaps it now makes me border on sociopathic, but for what they did to me for all of those years, I wish them nothing less than the absolute hell they gave me!

No, I don’t live my life angry every second. The only reason I even thought about it is I came across that comic. But I do not, and I will never, forgive my bullies for how they treated me.

Forgiveness is not a right and not everyone deserves the privilege.

Well-Meaning, But Uninformed

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Indeed it is.

I’ve struggled with my hair for years. My family was obsessed with it. As a kid, my mother forced me to have my hair permed and professionally styled with extensions, not caring at all for my discomfort or how much getting extensions hurt. Trips to the hair salon were seen as essential to my living, and any protests were met with verbal/emotional abuse and accusations of me not liking to look “pretty”. As an adult, the obsession continued with my grandfather. Let me tell you, an old man obsessed with a young woman’s appearance is all kinds of creepy. Only recently has my family shut up about my hair because, frankly, I can’t afford a bi-weekly visit to the hair salon and I don’t have time for it.

I’m anemic because of iron deficiency. I have not had my hair permed since late last year, but I had no idea stopping those treatments meant your hair begins to fall out. I have been using certain hair oils – something I was recommended by people in personal life who aren’t family – but they’ve had no effect, and my hair is still falling out. Some advice-seeking in a Facebook group got me an interesting bit of knowledge: lack of iron can cause hair loss.

I did some research of my own. It turns out iron is necessary for hair to grow. Iron, the mineral I’ve been deficient in for at least eight years (when I was diagnosed with anemia), is necessary for hair growth.

Never did my hair-obsessed family mention this. And I’m furious.

I don’t expect them to know such a fact. I do expect them to care more that my hair is healthy rather than pretty. But they didn’t. Hair care has been a trial-and-error process for me because I only knew it as “washing, perming, and hair spray”, and I got sick of it. Only when my family’s obsessive behavior stopped did I care to try to learn if there were other ways.

I intend to see a doctor to ask questions and rule out other medical problems, but for the time being, I’m going to take some multivitamins I have and see if my hair changes at all. I don’t expect it to, but if there is a good change, I’m going to be both glad and angry. Glad because my hair is finally fixing itself, and angry with my family for not teaching me better hair care habits while growing up to begin with. At the very least, if it doesn’t grow, I’ll be happy if it stops falling out.