Misty Water-Colored Memories

When my father died, my family began down the road of disintegration. I had been married to the love of my life for nearly 2 years at the time. He was and is the one person to love me and accept me completely. My father liked my husband. I think part of that is due to the fact they were kindred spirits in many ways. Like my father, my husband is loved fiercely, especially by his wife. Like my father, my husband speaks boldly, often saying things that most of us wouldn’t say. At times I hand the phone to him to handle a difficult situation. Other times, he hands the phone to me when a lighter, “nicer” touch would work best. My father would embarrass my mother beyond belief. My husband doesn’t do that, though sometimes his way of handling things makes me uncomfortable. I have a hunch that sometimes the way I handle things makes him uncomfortable as well.

Because Darryl and I had a new blended family at the time my father died, we immediately noticed an implosion in our relatively small group. My oldest daughter blamed us for not letting her go to the hospital to visit him when he had a second heart scare in a matter of a week. She was so upset that he died 2 days later, and we were the obvious place for her to direct her fierce anger. That’s fair. Of course, it simply didn’t occur to us that he was going to die. I will never forget the absolute shock when my brother told me he had died. My first words were, “You’re kidding!” I think there was some minute hope in my heart that he was.

I am the oldest of four children (three living). Daddy was a harsh parent, yet I never doubted his love for me and my siblings. He and my mother had a solid marriage, and none of us ever thought of spousal abuse and my parents in the same sentence. The very first time my first husband laid a hand on me, my initial reaction was shock. I hadn't imagined that was something that would ever be a part of my life. I thought, “that’s not how any of this works.”

As I grew into my adulthood and found my footing, as unstable as my environment was, Daddy and I had a good relationship. I got along better with him than I did my mom. He didn’t like my first husband, and he said some things that hurt my feelings, but looking back with the eye of experience and maturity, I recognize that he was angry that I continued to live with this man who was hurting me: HIS baby. Again, later in my adulthood, he and Darryl hit it off right away, and their ability to get along was such a joy to me.

After Daddy died, we worried about our mom, and my brother took on (and continues) her care. She was only 58, not elderly by any means. Her health at that point was good. But the unexpected death of her husband of 38 years shook her to the core. I am no doctor or psychologist, but it seemed that without our dad there to shield her and to be the larger-than-life partner, she was a shrunken version of herself. It was hard to watch.

As the years progressed, we continued to struggle with my oldest daughter. Anger was her main emotion. Some years later, after HER father had taken his own life, and after she had begun down the path of casting inflammatory aspersions on my husband, she defensively stated, "I hate men, and you knew that!" I guess, in her mind, feeling that way about men, and our not respecting that, meant that any measures she took to combat her pain and anger and loss were acceptable.

Not being satisfied with her own destructive departure from the family, she turned her attentions on the other kids, managing to bring a few along with her. She cited "examples" of his mistreatment that were completely innocent, even kind exchanges that deserved no criticism. One who couldn’t even remember living with her own father joined her older sister in honoring his memory (bear in mind that the oldest daughter HATED her father much of her life) by turning all those feelings on my husband, whom I suppose they saw as the reason I wasn’t married to their father any longer and the reason said father committed suicide. Neither could be further from the truth, by the way. I say this because we lived a short time in the town where I had spent most of my first married life, and we experienced this time and again with people who had been my friends but who had known my ex and decided that Darryl was at fault for the mess.

As their oldest grandchild, my oldest daughter was the favorite of both my parents at the time my father died. Losing half of that support was devastating to her. Much as she disliked her father, losing him completed the job, and she was destroyed. Any fantasy she had that one day she and her father would be able to mend their differences was taken away from her. That was another reason to turn to my husband and direct her frustration at him.

I started this blog post by speaking of my father and the effect his death had on our family. My daughter, as she escalated her accusations and demands that I leave this “horrible” man (basically, it was either her or him, not both) and as she tried to drag her siblings along with her, also began to cultivate support from my brother and mom. I can’t imagine my father would not have listened to me. My brother immediately believed her and bolstered her story. It worked out great for him. He has 7 living grandchildren who are my biological grandchildren. None knows of my existence. None needs me because they HAVE grandparents. My mother broke my heart (one of dozens and dozens of times) when she refused to listen to anything I had to say or that Darryl had to say. Her mind was made up. Now she can’t understand why I struggle so much to be civil.

This all exhausts me. So many other thoughts and feelings flood my mind. I write them down so they will have a place to be. They are too much.

My husband loves me. I know that and can feel that. I even believe it (because who really feels they are worthy of being loved?) No one….NO.ONE. has ever treated me so well. He is my rock. He is also my soft place to land. When we married, we were each broken in so many ways. Life had been so hard for each of us, and our individual traumas had created cracks in our veneers that greatly needed repair. I know I wasn’t perfect then (nor am I yet). He certainly wasn’t (nor is he yet). He has made mistakes and has faced difficult consequences. He learned after some of these mistakes that great injustices had been done to him before he was even old enough to be aware, so he was suffering the consequences of those actions that were not his own. My largest mistake had been to get involved with my first husband, refusing to listen to my parents, and the consequences of that mistake persist, even after over 22 years of marriage with Darryl.

In church yesterday a man said he loved his wife even though she made him mad when her faith wavered. It stunned me. I can certainly imagine being talked to or about like that because that was my previous life. But it’s only an imagination now because it wouldn’t happen in my current life. What it made me realize was the fact that my husband stays by my side and forgives me and continues to love me even when I make mistakes, even grievous errors. How on earth could I look at myself in the mirror if I did not extend the same willingness to accept and forgive and try again?

45 Degrees of Freezing*

 

**

On my desk sits a deck of daily inspirational cards a friend and colleague gave me for Christmas a few years ago. I enjoy using them over and over because there are enough to fill a year or so, which means they are “fresh” again by the time their next turn comes up. Some really resonate, and I say a silent “Yep! That’s for sure!” when I read them. Others are thought provoking, at the very least. In the past 8 ½ months I have come to live and breathe the truthfulness of a handful of these quotes as well as others I see all over social media. I recently posted about my job in Mississippi. Here are some further thoughts and explanation.

I’d like to say I listen to my gut, but sometimes it isn’t as clear in its messages as I would like. I did come to some conclusions about the job: 

1.       I don’t think there was a single other applicant;

2.       The judge runs such a tight court that everyone walks around on tiptoes and is terrified of facing her disappointment;

3.       Apparently, micromanagement IS a thing, and there is no known depth to which it will go;

4.       This was NOT Twin, Falls, Idaho, nor was this Judge Stoker; and

5.        Even the most unfortunate weather and other details can be outweighed by job satisfaction. Conversely, lack of job satisfaction removes one’s ability to make the best of the weather and details that make life a little harder. 

There were a few things that were bright spots:

1.      I loved the ward;

2.      I loved the co-workers in the district (and it turns out I had read them correctly!);

3.      I made some good friends;

4.      I rarely had to go to court, so I had a LOT of free time; and

5.      Jangle – THAT is a story, I promise you! 

After deciding on Iowa and choosing a specific location, our packing and preparations began in earnest. It was an anxious few weeks as we looked for a new home that would be within our price range as well as welcome us with our menagerie of pets. We finally found a home we like in a neighborhood we love. There are some logistics still needing to be worked out with our pets and so forth, but we are happy.

I often see memes or inspirational quotes that speak about how managers can most effectively supervise others and which attributes of a good manager are the most important. I have a testimony of their truthfulness! Treat your subordinates (heck ,treat everyone!) as if you appreciate them and value their efforts. They will likely respond with greater enthusiasm for their work and appreciation for you!

In the past 2 weeks I have had a steady stream of people coming into my office, introducing themselves and offering assistance to help me learn my new job. I’m talking everyone from my reporter colleagues, court assistants, and administrative personnel to each of the judges in the building. And they mean it. I AM welcome here. Everyone is SO nice. My job IS important to them. And, most important, quoting from a story I just heard about Camilla Eyring Kimball, I believe they understand they should, "never suppress a generous thought [or action.]" 

Because I have been sincerely welcomed, and the offers of help have included leading me through the steps to teach me the tasks that will be necessary for me to understand, the hook has been set, and I don’t ever want to leave. I want to be better at my job than I have ever been. Treat your employees with appreciation and give them the understanding by your actions that you value them, and they will bend over backwards to do their work. Who wouldn’t be happy in that kind of environment?

*It was 96 degrees (with heat index) when we left Mississippi. We arrived in Iowa a day and a half later, and it was about 50 degrees. Yesterday it snowed!

** February 2010 in Fredericksburg, Virginia! Iowa isn't here yet :D

"Iowa Stubborn"

Almost 6 years ago, having come to the realization that it was time to move from the freelancing stage of my career to the more permanent benefits providing full-time court stage, we began to scour Indeed.com, Craigslist, and various other sites, trying to find places to apply, preferably in the western half of the country. I found an opening and a lovely description of Helena, Montana, and applied. I detailed in a past blog post how I was called and interviewed and almost immediately offered the position. I was excited for the opportunity to work with such welcoming people. And then, of course, that fell apart when they decided they needed to redo the process and offer the job again. All these years later I can see why it was a blessing that I was not offered the position the second time.

After a day or so of licking my wounds, we started scouring the job boards again. I found something for Twin Falls, Idaho, so I applied. Again, I heard back almost immediately. I was interviewed by phone and received a job offer right away. There was a flurry of haphazard packing, and we began our 2,000-mile journey within just 2 weeks.

Working in Twin Falls was a mixed bag. The job was a dream. My judge was good to me, and he was a delight to report. We lived in three different houses, though, within the period of 5 years, and it was exhausting and infuriating. When my judge, who had been receiving treatments for cancer for 7 or 8 years, finally had to stop treatment because it wasn’t helping, he started coming to court less and less. It was during this time that I started looking for a job in the federal system, something I thought I’d always wanted.

I heard back from one, but that was to receive the courtesy of an email letting me know the position had just been filled. I heard nothing from any of the other half dozen or so courts to which I had applied. One day in October I saw someone mention on a Facebook page that there was an opening in one of the federal courts in Mississippi and that they had not received a single application. They had had a requirement that an applicant hold the CRR (certified realtime reporter) certification but had dropped it because there had been no response. I thought, why not apply? I need to listen to myself more carefully 😊

I did apply and received a call shortly thereafter from the head of HR for the district, who helped set up a time for a telephone interview with the judge. I was a nervous wreck when it came time for the call. The judge seemed nice enough. Her first question, though, was “Why Mississippi?” My response was and still is that Mississippi was not on my list of “I will NEVER live there,” so, since I was applying for a certain job rather than a certain address, I figured I’d give it a shot.

Shortly thereafter, I again heard from the HR person, who told me the judge wanted me to come to Mississippi for an in-person interview. I had a ton of vacation time accrued because I never used it, so Darryl and I hopped in the car and drove across the country in early November for the interview. In fact, Darryl had arranged to shoot two hotels in Monticello, Arkansas, which is about an hour from the job location, so our “stay” was free.

Our first time driving through the location of the court was dismaying. I have told my kids that if we had moved them there instead of Idaho, while they were still in school, they would have run away, and we would have helped them pack. It was once a busy town, full of life and plenty of work. It has shrunk in size because most of the industry has gone away, and there are blocks and blocks of neglected and empty buildings all over town. Blight is almost a decorating theme. Downtown is the worst. Driving through the town is heartbreaking. Crime is high, poverty is high, no one is happy.

That interview with the judge was about 5 hours long. I was nervous the entire time, but the judge still seemed nice enough. She even asked to have Darryl come up about 3 hours in, so he enjoyed visiting with her as well.

The next day the judge called to offer me the position. I accepted. Then we drove home. The first day back to work in Twin Falls I told my judge and the trial court administrator. That was really hard. Fortunately, the judge had an interview right away with a qualified reporter who had actually applied for the position that had been open since the other judge and his reporter had both left. Their interview went well, and he called me into his office after and asked me to look over her résumé. During that meeting, he kept stopping to cough, and he made the remark, “I bet you’ll be glad to get away from this!” ☹

The reporter was offered the position but then found out that she would have to take the Idaho CSR (certified shorthand reporter) test because her RPR (registered professional reporter) was “old.” Thankfully, Idaho is finally addressing this ridiculous requirement.

My last day was January 12, 2018. My judge passed away on January 8, 2018. I left within days of his passing, so the wound for me never had a chance to heal. In fact, since that time, I have transcribed several things over which he presided, listening occasionally to the embedded audio during my editing. That means I continue to hear his voice. Even just reading what he said conjures up the memory of his saying those words because he had a particular way of speaking.

Mississippi has not been without its challenges, but we’ve mostly liked it here and will truly miss many of the people and some of the quirks known only to the Delta. Right now the cotton is starting to show in the fields, and that has a beauty of its own. We now know why they talk about “Mississippi mud.” Oh, and this is where we were adopted by our Jangle. Maybe he had something to do with our moving here?

The job has not been the dream come true I’d hoped. Much of it is due to the judge and her way of running her court. There is an air of fear in the courthouse or any courtroom in which she is presiding. Oddly, she doesn’t APPEAR to be unkind or the least bit harmful, but….

I don’t want to list in this blog post the specific reasons I….WE decided it was time to look elsewhere. Some of you already know the reasons, and the rest of you are free to PM me, and I will tell you.

Needless to say, when I found ten openings in the State of Iowa, I decided to apply to each one. That was Saturday, August 25. That evening Darryl suggested we drive to Iowa after church on Sunday, so we made a whirlwind packing and logistics covering effort and did, indeed, leave as soon as we were able. Darryl also suggested I reach out to each of the administrators to whom I had sent my information, letting them know we would be in Iowa the coming week in case they wanted to speak with me in person. That led to five interviews, covering all ten positions for which I had applied. These were in areas from Des Moines east; some slightly north, some slightly south. We loved everywhere we drove. Iowa is so beautiful and so CLEAN!

It has been an interesting week. Lots of phone calls and emails, discussions between Darryl and me. I mean, the best offer I could get is a full $20,000 less than what I make now, BUT it comes with transcripts, and those pay an additional amount not included in the salary. That provided a lot of talking points, some of which weren’t very happy! But we are hoping that I will have enough transcript work that the difference won’t be as big.

Let me just say that every single interview left me thinking I could totally work there in that place with those people and for that judge. I felt in my gut that I would find a new home there, no matter which place I chose. We ultimately chose the Seventh District, and the position is largely in Davenport, because I felt the most comfort and the best fit there. Darryl had me list out the different pros and cons of both my current job and the one in Iowa, ranking them in order of importance. Number one was how the court family feels. The court personnel in my current job are very nice and welcoming, but there is no feeling of being at home there. There is a chill in the very air of the building.

I absolutely feel like a failure and a quitter. This is some of the remaining fallout of being a victim of domestic violence. Yeah, even though that was finished about 23 years ago, it will ever direct how I see myself. I know I didn’t fail. I know I gave it my all. I know I did not quit but that I recognized that I couldn’t thrive in this position and needed to move on to something that makes me desire to do my best and be worth all of the wonderful things I have heard about myself in the past 2 weeks.

This is terrifying and encouraging at the same time. I have no idea how we are going to accomplish another big move in just 2 weeks (I start October 1, so that’s 3 weeks from Monday). This move is literally a third as far as the one from Idaho to Mississippi. Also, we never felt more than temporary here, so a lot of stuff is still in boxes, but still. Another slight improvement is this brings us substantially closer to our kids, even though we will still be over a thousand miles away.

Bottom line, we had much prayer and contemplation, even fasting on fast Sunday about this specific issue. Each of us feels peace about the decision and will have to have faith that the transition will be less difficult. The wounds will heal fast, though my heart will be tender for a while. But at least I didn’t wallow in THIS misery for over 14 years!