Skip to main content

Unsent Letters: arsehole from the big green box

Dear Arsehole,

I want you to know that you forcing me out was the best thing that ever happened to me. I loved the people I worked with and I loved my job but it was consuming me. It wasn't ok that I was working 14 hour days, coming in on my day off, thinking about my job every second of every day. I am happy that I now get to pick my kids up from school, that I'm not a stranger to them. I am happy I don't have to deal with your hypocrisy and politics.

That doesn't make what you did ok. It's not ok that you told me that if you wanted someone to quit that you could make them, what a thinly veiled threat that was. It wasn't ok that you manipulated people I thought were my friends against me. It isn't ok that you treat people like pieces in a game, a game where the sole purpose is to get what you want. It wasn't ok that you took advantage of the fact that I was going through a hard time in my personal life and used it to make my working life hell too.

I can't go inside a green box of hell without having a panic attack. That is the parting gift you gave me. Life, however, has a way of balancing the scales. I take comfort in knowing that one day you will reap the rewards of the life you've led, I only wish I could be there to see it.

Kind regards,
The Broken Girl
Labels:

Comments

  1. Anonymous12 December 2011 at 17:06

    I thought this was gonna be a post about "The Green Room" episode of Beverly Hills 90210. I am disappoint.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thanks for taking the time to comment!

Popular posts from this blog

I don't want to do this anymore

I am so over it right now. Everything feels hard. Everything feels shit. Everything makes me want to cry. I don't want to be a person any more. I don't want to be an anything any more. My children are smart. They get good grades, score well on NAPLAN, their teachers love them. Why then must they continue to do stupid things? I am so sick of a child running to tell me that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, I am sick of them hurting each other, I am sick of them destroying things, I am sick of them whinging, complaining, walking past rubbish on the floor, leaving shit everywhere, pretending they can't see the dog wee on the floor, having rooms that looking like the aftermath of a break and enter. I am sick of washing dishes, of sweeping floors, of the endless amounts of washing and folding and cleaning and tidying and cooking and planning and thinking. I am sick of feeling guilty for not being able to do those things that I should be doing, of feeling guilty that my husband...
7 comments
Read more

Week One... Or Should I Say Week Two Thousand One Hundred and Seventy Nine...

 That's how many weeks I have been alive (give or take a couple of days). Two thousand one hundred and seventy-nine. Yet here I am still fighting the same fights I have always fought. Self-image, self-acceptance, unrelenting standards, imposter syndrome.  Once again I find myself in a body that feels uncomfortable and unhealthy. It crept up on me slowly and suddenly all at the same time. I still barely eat any refined sugar. I turn down the lollies and cakes and doughnuts at work. It's not even a struggle, I no longer enjoy the way sugar makes my body feel. But my old nemesis, potato chips, remains undefeated. I eat potato chips to fill the emptiness in my soul. To feel as miserable physically as I do mentally or emotionally. To get comfort from an association with my childhood. It is the struggle I can't overcome. The war I can't win. So after months of trying on my own to no avail, months of the scales not budging, I have signed up for a healthy eating plan. I'm n...
2 comments
Read more

Confessions of a Fat Girl

I have been concerned about my weight and appearance ever since I was 12. I was teased in primary school for being fat and called names like porky. Here is a picture from my Year 7 Graduation to illustrate how fat and disgusting I was I say fat and disgusting because I truly believed when I was 12 that I was some hideously fat monster that no boy would ever want to kiss, no boy would ever want to go out with, no boy would ever love. It makes me so sad looking at this photo to know that I was so slim, so pretty, my life should have been full of wonder and possibility. Instead I began my journey down the long dark road that has led me to the depths of depression and an obsession with my weight (but thankfully never an eating disorder) and today it has led me to make this confession... I am currently the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. I have eaten myself to the weight I never wanted to be. I am the exact thing I was teased for being. Along with the fact that I don...
4 comments
Read more