Trust. Faith. Hope.

I've been really stressed out lately, Ms J. You may have noticed. Others are aware of it. Friends. Acquaintances. Colleen, certainly. I'm sure she must cringe every time the topic of conversation turns to work. Yeah, I'm angry. Damn right I'm angry. And frankly, I find it cathartic to vent here. But I'm beginning to see how my negative thoughts and words can affect others besides myself.

Dora says my posts are "bitter, pungent, and negative." Pungent? Well, yes, I suppose anger has a certain odour to it. What I've been writing and thinking and saying lately ... stinks. She says I'm lost in the muck, Ms J, and she's right. But just to set the record straight, the issue is not my ex-wife. It's my job. I don't have to see Kelly ever again, but I do have to go to work.

I read Anvilcloud's post about forgiveness the other day and it set me to thinking. Forgiveness is a lovely word to say, but it's not an easy thing to do. Is it? Dad has always struggled with it and I'm no different. I read AC's post through and then I read it again. And then a third time. One paragraph stands out.

"You see, old hurts just keep resurfacing in our brains. We rethink the old thoughts and are wounded anew every time as we relive the grief, anger, pain, and sorrow from the past. We re-experience these negative emotions every time we replay an old, hurtful episode in our heads. It makes no sense, for it does us no good and usually affects the other party not a whit."

Not a whit, Ms Journal. All the ill-will and all the curses and all the evil I wish against my employer does not have the slightest effect. It doesn't change things in the least. All it does is raise my blood pressure and rob me of sleep. As I lay awake at night plotting revengeful fantasies against my tormentors, I am "wounded anew".

The jobs are gone. It's a done deal. My company didn't bid on the work, so the work was awarded to another company. It's that simple. And I'm driving myself and those around me crazy by imagining I might somehow alter the course of events. The transfer process will be done in stages. That will buy me some time. I will do my best to accept with dignity what is to come. And like everything else in Life, this too will come to pass.

I've had my trials. Over the past few years, I've suffered a broken leg, a disturbed son, a daughter who rejected me. I've been dismissed from my job to be later reinstated. I've survived two divorces and been hobbled financially by exorbitant child support obligations. All these events were unpleasant. They were all painful in one way or another. But I survived each one. Each one came to pass. Each one carried with it an important lesson, and I hope in the end, offered me new strength.

Hope is the key to survival. Hope is built on a foundation of faith and trust. I will continue to hope for a new job with a different railroad. I will strive to maintain my faith in God and trust that He'll deliver me safely through this miasma of fear and uncertainty.

Trust. Faith. Hope.

Surely, it's worth a try, Ms J. Clearly, the old ways weren't working.

***

Censorship - Afloat in a Leaky Vessel

I received a note from a friend recently.

"I've been reading your blog. Only someone who really cares for you would say what I have to say. Shall I hold forth, or hold back?"

She has a way with words, this girl. That's what I admire about her, Ms J - that, and the fact that she's a published playwright. Anyway, I invited her to tell me what was on her mind. She didn't hold back.

"You could get fired or worse for what you write about your employer. I don't want to see you destroy yourself this way, Dale. Either delete these posts or close the blog."

Or something to that effect.

She's right, isn't she? If I've discovered anything about the new regime at work, it's their vindictiveness. Not only do they demand compliance ("100% compliance 100% of the time"), they're quick to punish severely those who might dare to disobey. I have no doubt I'd suffer discipline if this blog were discovered by company officials.

My daughter disagrees.

"They can't touch you, Dad," she says. "In Civics class, we're learning about the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. We have the right to freedom of speech. And we have the right to freedom of expression. You can say whatever you want."

I suppose she's right, but only to a point. It would seem that if you're rich and powerful, the same laws don't always apply. Powerful people often retain their power by subjugating weaker ones. It's always been that way. I believe it will remain so.

What shall I do, then? Close the blog? I don't want to do that. Writing is something I enjoy. And it's made more enjoyable by sharing it with others. But lately, it seems that I can't say what I want here. Apparently, the internet is not a suitable, safe or appropriate medium for the expression of honest emotion. When I wrote about Meagan's boyfriend, he was hurt by it. He was shocked and saddened by the things I said about him. Much of it was untrue, however it was a reflection of my feelings at the time. We can say whatever is on our minds in the privacy of our own homes, Ms J, but when we put it on the internet to share with the world ... well, that's a different thing entirely. I understand this.

So now I'm faced with the daunting task of reviewing a few hundred blog posts and deleting the parts that might be deemed offensive by my masters.

I feel discouraged, Ms Journal. But Dianne's point is well taken. I'd be a fool not to heed her advice.

***