#my dude i worked so hard for YEARS to gaslight myself that i am worthy and is dependable

[pressuredrightnow]

literally so annoying when you just want to sleep and your intrusive thoughts say what if you did that thing instead and accidentally killed that person on an event that went completely normal from the past

[pnwswiftie]

I felt owned by an employer once. He was sexist and baited me into working for him only to turn the tables and gaslight me. And to be honest I’ve never pin pointed the feeling that has sat in my gut about him until recently; until watching my idol go through the same thing on a large scale in front of the world, until what has happened, what has been happening to Taylor Swift in her industry.

Mine was a veterinary surgeon whom I worked with in the past. I left the veterinary field and started a new career. The Vet (we will call him) moved away and when he came back he contacted me with a new idea to start his own practice.

He painted me a beautiful picture of what this clinic would be like. He said he couldn’t do it without me and promised me the world. I still remember the phone call where he said the words- “you will be my practice manager, my right hand, you could run the show and have a handsome career, I’ll make sure you are set for life, you will have an opportunity to buy into the company as well, to profit share.

He offered to pay me whatever my current job paid me. I didn’t jump at saying yes. I worked so hard to be where I was and this was a big risk. My now husband was hesitant and didn’t trust him 🚩 but supportive of whatever I chose (love him). Well, im the only one of me so a month later I took the jump and put in my notice. I trusted him.

I was hired on with one other person. A male, roughly my same age, overall a nice dude. We will call him Sam. I was in charge of all operations of the front desk and all aspects of the business side of things. I started every excel sheet for income tracking, taxes, inventory. I created every document, I created the scheduling program, I set up every vendor accounts. I scanned every piece of paper that came into the clinic doors, I set up our benefits. I answered phones I handled every single client. I visited clinics and preached to people our vision, so they would refer to us (we were a referral based clinic) on my days off. I did it ALL. I also scrubbed into surgery with the Vet and Sam, as there were only 3 of us running the entire show. If the phone rang, I would answer on a headset under my face mask and handle a client or clinic call right there, scrubbed in. I didn’t mind, I felt proud to show off my multitasking skills. He would give a little wink and a joke and the validation felt nice, like I earned his approval 🚩 when I did something above and beyond.

About a year went by and I was rolling in hard earned money, that’s for sure. I was working 7 am to 10 pm some days so I always had overtime. Sam was responsible for 1 thing- patient care, and I was responsible for LITERALLY everything else you could possibly think of. 🚩Needless to say I was getting worked to the BONE 🚩 . I was cool with it tho, this is what I signed up for right? We were growing and successful and getting BUSY!

One day I accidentally found out the pay gap 🚩between myself and Sam. I had been completely naive to the fact that we were not equals, nor was I getting paid “management” but that he made SUBSTANTIALLY more than me. I gave it some energy for a couple days and vented to my husband, then I let it go. Sam was nice, it’s not his fault. 🚩Maybe he’s just worth more than I am to the company, I told myself. 🚩Maybe he has a past history I didn’t know about that made him more valuable. It definitely should have been my red flag 🚩

My relationship with the Vet was kind of like a daughter and father but 🚩 only on his terms. Fun and playful and lots of “your our boss lady!”. It would also take very odd turns, 🚩 having to do small tasks outside my morals. In the office he would call me “the office manager, the boss, it’s all up to you, hospital administrator!” yet on the phone would call me 🚩 “the front desk person” 🚩“my receptionist” to other veterinarians. It bothered me, a lot, but I pushed it away. 🚩Who am I to be that nit picky over a title? 🚩He probably didn’t mean it or misspoke, I thought.

The tricky part is that I only have little under the radar examples of his abuse. 🚩 The ones you can’t QUITE put your finger on, that you can’t QUITE justify quitting on the spot but make you feel 🚩 worthless. They continued every day. He was incredibly sweet and funny, and then 🚩condescending and cruel. It was a roller coaster to try to please him constantly. It wore on me. I came to work and to deal with it I would make lists on scratch paper. Lists of why I was starting to hate my job. Lists that I would read in the car and cry. If I wasn’t cheerful he’d come in with 🚩“PMSING TODAY?” .... I’d laugh n bite my tongue. 🚩 That’s just being friendly playful right, he knows me well enough to say that to me, we’re like family, right? But every day I felt awful. And I needed my job now, more than ever. 🚩 He knew I needed this job, too. We had just put an offer on a house and surprise! we’re now expecting a baby.

Being pregnant changed things. I couldn’t assist in surgery and xrays like I used to. 🚩He would scoff when I would have to leave for prenatal appointments. 🚩 He would be caring and kind one minute, giving me hand me down baby clothes and gifts, and then cold and dry the next. 🚩Sam could and often would sleep in and no call/no show. He would roll in at noon and jump into surgery, acting like nothing happened, they’d joke together about women in front of me and being hung over. I was 5 min late once because of a traffic jam and had to have a “sit down meeting” about attendance. 🚩 I felt so ASHAMED and EMBARRASSED. 🚩 I had never once, NOT EVER, had work problems, attendance problems, behavioral problems, in my entire history of working. This job was my LIFE. 🚩 Was something seriously wrong with me???

The last straw came when I was 6 months pregnant. He claimed that everyone was having a private “check in meeting”. He told me at mine that 🚩him and Sam talked 🚩 and agreed that I’m not the happy bubbly girl I used to be. I sat with him in the shade of a big oak tree in the grass that has since fallen in a wind storm (ironically. He said I would be getting a $1 raise and that he wanted me to take on MORE responsibility since I could no longer assist in surgery and listed basically anything he could possibly think of to tack on to my job to make up for that $1. 🚩 all I could think was... how???? I was already drowning. I finally got courage this time and said NO. My lip quivered and tears ran down my face with 🚩 stress. I brought up valid arguments but looking back I wish my voice wasnt so timid. Or that I had the courage to call out just one, ONE instance of his inappropriate behavior. But lastly, 🚩 I asked why is my title “FRONT DESK PERSON” when Sam is now “Lead Surgery Operations Director (Who Does No Wrong)??

His response sticks with me to this day. It was painful and degrading and I will never forget it. After working my ass off and building this place from the bottom, the long nights and everything I gave them... I also will never forget his 🚩 smirk . “Well you see, giving you a title like that would be like rewarding a BAD DOG with a BONE” 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

🚩I was devastated. 🚩And confused. 🚩I’m a BAD DOG???

I stuck it out for the remainder of my pregnancy, working the 12 hour days up until I went into labor at work. I trained a new girl on every process, excel spread, schedule I had developed and created. I put on a fake smile and wrote my scratch lists and re-read my lists on the way home and cried. I couldn’t just quit. I couldn’t let my family down.

We had our baby and stared at his tiny toes and fingers and cried every single day that I may have to go back to my hell job. I interviewed for different clinics while on leave. I was desperate. The vet was on a sweet streak- 🚩 sending us gifts, having his wife cook us meals and checking in on us all the time. He frequently asked what date I was coming back. He informed me that when I came back I would need to take the later shift and give the new girl my current shift. 🚩She needed it, he said. He said we could discuss the title of “lead receptionist” now and could 🚩 continue to work towards my goal of hospital manager. 🚩 I accepted but I felt sick. 🚩 I felt like I had to go back to work for someone who I couldn’t trust. I felt like he owned me in the worst possible way. (At one time he even tried to tell me I had half of the PTO that I actually had saved up for maternity leave, another 🚩🚩🚩 but I saved my paystubs as PROOF)

Today I work for the clinic that we shared the building with. When they heard I left they immediately offered me a position. The Vet left to purchase his own facility. He acted shocked and surprised and in disbelief that I wasn’t returning. At first it was tough, not gonna lie. We literally ate noodles for a year because I went down to part time. But the bravest thing I ever did was RUN ♥️ I now LOVE my job and they treat their employees wonderfully and equally and have real life morals.

I actually didn’t intend for this to be a novel LOL but even if not a single soul reads this, it’s therapeutic for me to actually get my thoughts down after almost 6 years now. My advice is to ALWAYS trust your gut. TRUST THE 🚩 RED 🚩 FLAGS. Don’t let anyone make you question your character. Never EVER ACCEPT being controlled and manipulated against your morals. Choose the future over time spent in the past (thanks T @taylorswift) and work somewhere that respects you. That pays you FAIRLY. Don’t be afraid to TELL your story too because this has to STOP (I’ve almost deleted this whole thing 13x) If it happened to me I can’t imagine how many other women it happens to. Anyway if you read this then holy shit here’s a hug and CHIN UP YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE NOT A BAD DOG. ♥️

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The Psychology of Ghosting and Why People Can’t Stop Doing It

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-psychology-of-ghosting-and-why-people-cant-stop-doing-it/

The Psychology of Ghosting and Why People Can’t Stop Doing It

My ghost is named Tom.

He’s persistent, this ghost. He likes haunting my dreams, catching me off-guard in the milk-sweet land of sleep, slipping into my unconscious and rattling the cage of my brain. I dream he’s back in my life, unapologetic and unreformed, still cheating and gaslighting and drinking too much. In these dreams, I am still desperate for answers, asking him over and over why he vanished, why he gave up his flesh-and-blood self and became this ghost that — even after seven years, three new cities, countless dates and the love of a good man, the best I’ve ever known — I still can’t shake.

Ghosting (the term we’ve assigned to the sudden disappearance of a romantic interest) has become synonymous with modern romance: A 2016 Plenty of Fish survey revealed 78% of users had been ghosted. When I did my own Insta-investigation, I received dozens of responses, ranging from righteous indignation to extreme chill. “Rude but inescapable” seems to be the general agreement among those I spoke to about ghosting in the age of online dating.

It’s not that the dating “slow fade” is new (one girl told me she had a friend in high school who called it “two-weeking”: After hooking up with a girl, he’d ignore her entirely for two weeks — just long enough, he said, for her to get the picture), but technology has shifted the landscape by presenting a version of the world that feels both impossibly small and intoxicatingly large. One unreturned letter in the 1800s and you could warm yourself at night with the strong odds that he perished of scurvy; now, we’re able to see our ghosts out in the world, eating brunch, Instagram Story-ing the weird bird they saw on the walk to work. Combine that with the inherent dehumanization of online dating, in which complex individuals are reduced to swipeable avatars, and what we’ve created is a flourishing breeding ground for people for whom honest, direct communication feels not only unpalatable but unnecessary.

F. Diane Barth, a New York-based psychotherapist and the author of the new book I Know How You Feel: The Joy and Heartbreak of Friendship in Women’s Lives, says that while ghosting as we understand it isn’t new, the way we have pathologized it is. “In the past, a person could stop calling or dropping by,” she says, “but now we have so many more ways of disconnecting from a person, like being unfriended or unfollowed.” Online dating also provides the comfort blanket of partial anonymity: There likely aren’t mutual friends to call you out on your callous behavior, nor shared physical spaces that force interaction. “Our communities are larger now,” says Barth, “so it’s entirely possible you might never, ever run into them again.”

The Anatomy of the Ghosted

Modern ghosting can impart a distinct and isolating feeling of shame for those who experience it. “People who have been ghosted often feel that they are the person who has done something wrong,” says Barth. “You’ve been dropped off the edge of the earth, which is very traumatic. You don’t think about how many other people this has happened to, but rather that there must be something wrong with you.”

Barth notes that shame is the brain’s natural reaction when “something or someone interrupts us in the middle of doing something we are enjoying.” Our natural instinct is to “undo the situation” so we can get back to that feeling of happiness. When we can’t — when we are, in fact, cut off completely from the source of the good feeling — we look for ways to explain away the bad feelings: She didn’t want to commit, he didn’t like my laugh. “No matter how you explain it to yourself, though,” writes Barth, “your psyche is trying to undo the sense of disruption of the good feelings. Shame is a reaction to having a circuit in your emotional system broken.”

Am I not funny? Do people not get my jokes?

It’s a very particular wound and one that is becoming inescapably familiar. Former online dater and ghostee Kelsey says her primary reaction to being ghosted was the feeling that she must be the problem. “We’re obsessed with fine-tuning and laboring over our superficial appearances (both in-person and online),” she says. “So when we’re ghosted, I think we often jump to trying to figure out what in that outer shell wasn’t well-received, and we let that disapproval soak into our inner layers that define us. We cycle through our insecurities. … Oh shit, did he not think that was funny? Am I not funny? Do people not get my jokes? Oh crap, is that what I’m giving off?”

The shame is compounded by a feeling of being duped. Alexandra was ghosted by a guy she’d been dating for a few weeks. “On our first date, we talked for six hours straight and ended it in a moonlit make-out,” she says. “He talked about cooking together after we had sex in my kitchen. We went on mini field trips — to the beach! to the cliffs! — and had after-work check-ins where he’d call me on his way home to hear about my day. And then, one day, he went from telling me he was addicted to me to only speaking if spoken to. He would weasel out of committing to a plan. He would hit me with a ‘Hey!’ on the Sunday evening of a weekend where he’d assured me he would be seeing me.”

Eventually, she says, she’d had enough. “I told him I was an adult and needed planning, that I couldn’t just keep my schedule endlessly open for him on the off chance he was free. He apologized, promised he’d do better, promised we’d see each other with more regularity. But it dwindled until our interactions were reduced to him watching my Insta Stories while I was halfway across the world on a hiking trip.”

She’s now happily cohabitating with someone else but still has trouble shaking the experience. “I think he was dishonest about how he felt about me, which made me feel like a fool. And yet he didn’t have the strength to just tell me.”

The Anatomy of the Ghoster

To state the obvious: It’s rude, plain and simple, to fail to consider another person’s feelings. We’re talking preschool lessons, the golden rule. We all learned this. So why do the ghosts ghost?

“For me, the motivation was rooted in a strong aversion to being honest about my emotions, usually for fear of hurting feelings,” says Andy, reforming ghoster. “I found that it was easier to let silence do the talking than force myself to utter, ‘I had a nice time, but I don’t feel a connection’ or whatever you’re supposed to say.”

Others, like the man I have decided to spend my life with, are less apologetic. “It was the path of least resistance,” he says. “It was often because I’ve met someone else [Author’s note: It me.], and I’m just anticipating that awkward conversation and want to avoid it. When it’s someone you haven’t been dating long or you’ve been casual with, I think that there is this emerging establishment of a new norm, which is just — that’s now the way we break up with people. I do think that it’s kinder than telling someone you’re not interested in them or that you met someone better.”

He’s not alone in this; numerous people I spoke to said that in our dating universe, ghosting is both acceptable and even considerate. “It’s almost polite if the relationship was casual enough,” says Aubrey, a former ghoster and ghostee (now married). “There is something humiliating and patronizing in a dude I’ve gone out with twice ‘breaking up’ with me.”

Ghosting seems like a cop-out for people to avoid adult conversations.

Andy, turning over his new leaf, says he gives himself a pep talk before communicating his emotions to keep himself from ghosting. “The question I ask myself when the situation arises is: What’s the absolute worst thing that can happen after telling someone you don’t want to go out again? Maybe they’d be like ‘Fuck you!! You’re a sad pathetic loser! Boy bye.’ I can live with that.”

Barth agrees that some explanation is (almost) always better than none at all. “People say they ghost because ‘they didn’t want to hurt feelings.’ And yes, people who are broken up with directly will likely experience some hurt, but the thing about ghosting is that there’s no closure.” Ghosting, she says, leaves the person who was ghosted with the humiliating impression that whatever relationship they believed existed was all in their head, that they were not worth so much as a farewell text.

Julia, happily single and dating, made it a practice to always offer an explanation after a blind date called her out at a party six months later for not responding to her texts. “I had to sneak out of the party because she wouldn’t drop it,” she says. “I have a hard rule now that I always send a text to say if I don’t want to hang again. It’s awkward, but it saves the drama.”

When I was first dating in New York, I found myself making up excuses and dodging calls to avoid telling guys I didn’t want to see them again. At the time, I was terrified of seeming rude or unlikable, and the attention I received (whether wanted or not) felt like an affirmation that I was worthy and wouldn’t be alone forever. Eventually, the stress of trying to be likable while simultaneously dodging contact became absurd. A few friends and I collaborated on a standard text we’d send when we didn’t want to see someone again (please feel free to borrow, copyright not necessary, works for all genders, just trying to do the lord’s work): “Thanks for a great night! I didn’t feel any romantic energy between us, but I wish you all the best out there.”

Some (again, I’m MARRYING this man) argue that silence is, in fact, an answer of its own. “If you text someone once, twice, and they don’t respond — I mean, that is a response. That speaks very loudly. You just don’t want to hear it.”

The Anatomy of Closure

But the problem with silence is that it leaves a deep, dark hole — one it is all too easy to fill with a foggy combination of insecurity, self-loathing and confusion.

Lauren was platonically ghosted by someone she considered one of her closest friends. “I literally did almost everything with her,” she tells me. “And then one day, she just quit calling and texting and responding to me. And then she unfollowed me on all social. … It was heartbreaking.” There were signs, in hindsight, that this woman had a callous streak; still, Lauren said, she’s unable to come up with any explanation for her behavior, and years later, it still feels like a betrayal. “I feel like I’m a pretty nice and reasonable person, so if something were wrong, I feel as though she should have discussed it with me,” she said. “Ghosting seems like a cop-out for people to avoid adult conversations.”

In the absence of closure, what we are left with is a bewildering array of questions — questions that, it’s important to remember, might never be answered even if the relationship had ended on our own terms. “Relationships are always two-sided, and we can’t know everything that is going on in the other person,” reminds Barth. “If you’ve asked for closure and they haven’t been able to provide it, you’re going to stay stuck if you keep asking. You need to give up the idea that it can be solved.”

Barth recommends talking openly to friends about your experience. “Keeping [ghosting] to yourself increases the feeling of hurt and pain and isolation,” she says. “The more you can talk about it, the more you can get feedback that will help you process it.” Building this support system can also remind you of all the connections you do have: strong, beautiful friendships, a loving family, coworkers who respect you — relationships that rely not on superficialities, but on another person seeing you fully and embracing who you really are. “You need to work really hard to remember that it isn’t about you,” says Barth. “The reason that someone [ghosted] — it’s their difficulty in having to be honest.”

After multiple ghostings through online dating, Kelsey deleted her apps. Getting over being ghosted was going to require a new outlook, she realized. “It took some time and a lot of distraction, but I was finally able to ask myself the underlying question — why were these strangers making me feel bad about myself? Why was I giving up my sense of worth as a companion entirely to this pool of bachelors? Why was my vulnerability extending to all aspects of self, instead of just limiting it to what it actually was — the viability of compatibility with this particular individual?”

When she did start dating again, she says, it felt completely different. “I wasn’t checking the app constantly. I wasn’t eager to swipe and double-tap and labor over the wittiest retort. I didn’t feel the need to calculate the perfect time between responses and, most importantly, I didn’t fill the idle time with all of the reasons I had come to believe he thought I wasn’t worth it. I went out on dates and gave myself one rule of my own — hang out with guys if it sounds fun, and if it doesn’t sound fun, then don’t.”

And when she wasn’t interested? “I would tough it up and politely decline a follow-up date,” she says. “I did that both in-person and over texts, and both are uncomfortable but important. And every guy I did that to replied with appreciation and understanding.”

My ghost and I dated for eight years, and then we didn’t. Tom stopped coming home at night, stopped answering the phone and moved all of his belongings out of our apartment while I was out of town. It wasn’t as linear as all that, of course — he’d call crying or show up unexpectedly and then disappear again over the course of a few months — but when he finally did leave for good, when I found out he had been sleeping with his best friend’s girlfriend, the closest I ever got to an explanation was, “I just can’t do this anymore.”

He’s still out there — married, balding, in the city where I left him — but we haven’t spoken since. I do not imagine he ever thinks of me. I hate that I am the one left with these questions, although maybe what I am really left with is simply my own obstinate feeling that I was owed more than what I got. I have filled the space he left behind with narratives I wrote to suit my own purposes, but the truth is, humans are just bad sometimes. We do bad things — things we said we’d never do. Sometimes, the simplest, kindest thing you can do is try to explain why.

Illustrations by Gabrielle Lamontagne.