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The Unexpected Truth - Short Essay by Ales2

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Ales2:

To my friends on the Board - I wrote this four years ago for a short essay contest. Had it on my computer since then and stumbled on it today.  Hope everyone enjoys this story, best wishes to all!

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Losing my job came quickly and unexpectedly. Not just any job, but my dream job. The unexpected truth I learned shocked me and my recovery took two, long agonizing years.  But first, I had to make it through the call.

A dreaded, surprise conference call from the corporate office. Shortly after thanksgiving, production on our projects had ended. No upcoming projects were on our development slate. For a production company, this is a sign of anemia, a slow bleed of funds to keep people employed until the next project is greenlit. These situations rarely end well, especially with just two of us, the Executive Producer and myself. I knew that and I was prepared.

I focused my discussions on the business, as a Production Executive, I had vital information to share about prospects in development.  My Boss could have cared less about my contribution to the conversation. He began harping on the decline in funding available but his argument quickly weakened. His tone shifted and his temper simmered under the surface. His stern voice informed me “Your producing days are over.” This was not business, it was personal.

The call ended abruptly. These were very harsh words to me. I remained calm even when he aroused my emotions and I hid my frustration and despair one last time.  He antagonized me with his insensitivity and pushed me to head home to “ruminate.” I had other ideas. My purpose was to wrap up all the outstanding deliverables for the projects. I was being paid until end of December and I intended to leave good work behind, something I decided he could not take from me.

Driving home, I phoned a business mentor and did something I had never done before, I complained. Whined actually. Not at being let go, but in my confusion for the truth of the situation.  She offered her best suggestions and they felt insufficient.   Without the truth, there would be no way for me to move on. 

I finished out the week, hoping to gather more understanding. I didn’t, aside from his annoyance at my decision to complete my responsibilities. Production is like a tennis match, whatever ball arrives in your court, requires one to be prepared and send the ball back over the net with full force.  I’ve never forgotten that. 

The year ended badly. Christmas came, I was out of work and not feeling like celebrating very much. I still believed that as every door closes another opens, but I was increasingly conflicted. One night, when I could not fall asleep, I made two lists on the back of an envelope. One side was mistakes I had made and situations I could have handled differently. The other side, a list of my Boss’ shortcomings. I realized that he had once told me, on our first project, that Producers are good leaders, not followers.  In my last month there,  I challenged his judgment and advocated for the project, the writers point of view, the networks suggestions and finally, for my own. I had asserted myself and he was punishing me.  This was my fatal mistake.

Then something strange happened. The New Year arrived and I acquired book rights for a movie and started pitching it around town. Initially, the author was a friend and we collaborated well. Months later, he got frustrated with the slow development process and we had an argument and dissolved our partnership. He exhibited many of my Boss’ shortcomings I had noted on the envelope. I checked them off like a laundry list.

Over lunch, I consulted with a Producer friend who listened to my current dilemma and noticed a repetitive pattern. 
She inquired, “Who in your life spoke to you this way?
I suggested my Boss.
“No, before that.” she said.

Surprisingly, I quickly acknowledged my Mother spoke to me this way as a teenager and adult. My friend questioned whether I had ever considered my Mother was a Narcissist and my lack of assertiveness a problem. No, I had not.  Concerned, she suggested I research the subject of Narcissism in relationships.

Relationships? Weren’t we talking about a professional business situation? That’s when the unraveling came. I recalled some key incidents and revisited my own responses to the difficult situations I encountered at work. When I got stuck, it centered around personal interactions, not business. Still, none of it made any sense. Similarities between Mothers words and Boss’ words began to overlap.  Journaling kept them organized as my envelope list grew.

Growing up, my Mother was not to be challenged. Don’t talk back and avoid conflict was her philosophy in dealing with me. The parallels of the words, tone, and cruelty between my Boss and my Mother astounded me. Hard work was insufficient. Accomplishments were ignored or belittled. Assertiveness was actively discouraged and punished. Intelligence was challenged. Verbal undermining was their primary strategy. Condescending attitude implied my unworthiness. Incessant, excessive expectations. Demeaning and belittling was a form of control.  Manipulation was a perverse pleasure.  Repeated attempts at conflict resolution failed.  There were no overt signs. Criticism was done in person, cruelty via phone. Allowing this second class treatment had become my own chosen obstacle to success.

The unexpected truth I unearthed magnified my deeper insecurities. My ground was shaken. The roots pulled up from my tree.  Therapy helped for a time, but my confidence and belief in myself suffered greatly for many months.  Mostly, I was hurt. Solutions were complicated and not self evident.  I had not found a new job, and I was terrified of a similar situation. My finances became my new problem, my savings dwindled and insomnia and anxiety were my new friends. Decisions became difficult and time just seemed to slip away. The same situation would emerge and I would respond the same way. I was not making progress.

Discovering my Mother was a Narcissist was a life changer for me.  Her negativity and selfishness was something I had struggled with all my life and infected all my crucial relationships. I had a string of awful Bosses, less than supportive friends, and the emotionally unavailable boyfriends I attracted were the reason I was glad I remained single. Many of my struggles disappeared. Others required me to learn new ways of dealing with people.

My attitude changed. I disengaged and wanted no contact. No calls, no visits. I told her she was no longer welcome in my home. And to her complete surprise and frustration, she realized I meant it. I did not speak to her for almost two years. What I did not know was that Ns become worse when rejected.  My next lesson was rejection generates insults or further abuse.  I could never trust her again and without trust, relationships cannot be rebuilt.

In the end, our relationship was no different, same negativity, different day. But, I had changed with my newly acquired wisdom and assertiveness. I was impervious to her words, too clever for her games, and I moved on with a new set of expectations and boundaries for all areas of my life.

***************

Hopalong:
Well spoken, Ales!

Makes perfect sense to me, the parallels between the work situation (and lack of respect or appreciation) and the situation with an Nparent.

How are you doing these days?

Hugs
Hops

sKePTiKal:
Splendidly written, Ales.

You've charted the progression of the "awakening" to situations without wallowing in it. (No doubt there was plenty of emotional swirling at different points in the process, as there is for a lot of us. Your words are strong & clear; they indicate this... without digressing into that side of things. I believe that gets the message across, clearly, without letting the emotional side of things become the message.)

Have you read the kind of "father & son" stories, where Dad works overtime to toughen up son? I was reminded of these, reading your essay. And possibly something like this goes through N-mom's heads too. They see their own limited capacity for feelings as some kind inherent flaw in themselves so they work overtime to squelch and remove any sensitivity in their Ds as possible -- by dumping tons of negativity, criticism, and just plain mean-ness on them. That's beyond projection and self-hating those marks of humanity within themselves... this is a campaign to "break" your spirit and toughen you up for the long haul. Only because they think this is the sum total of their own experience and needing this kind of "toughness" applies universally to everyone else, everywhere.

It's kinda their definition of being a "good parent"; go figure. It's never occurred to them, that people can be emotionally sensitive AND emotionally, morally, intellectually smart & tough - simultaneously.

I'd love to read the same kind of essay on how you reclaimed your sensitivity and integrated it with all the lessons you've learned in production. How you gave it, it's proper place in your wholeness.

My D has been working with a special effects production company. This is the "force of nature" D. She's explained production as a special kind of temporary insanity that the whole crew is experiencing together. Is that how you see it too?

lighter:
Ales:

That boss' treatment of you lead to discovering unhealthy patterns, and changing them.  He was catalyst for your healing and growth.  I'm curious what your feelings toward him are now, with hindsight.

Thanks for sharing this story.  It was very insightful: )

Lighter

JustKathy:
Ales, thank you SO much for sharing this. I really related to what you wrote. I also worked in the entertainment industry for the bulk of my career, and feel that the emotional damage caused by my N-Mother impacted the level of success I achieved (or failed to achieve). Working in the industry is tough for anyone, and even tougher for someone who is emotionally damaged, though like you, I had no idea at the time that my N-mother had left me an emotional cripple.

I got my first job in the mailroom of an L.A. television station straight out of high school, after having fled my parent’s home. At the time I was young, had limited social skills, and needed a place to belong. The people at the station became my family and made me feel secure for a full decade. BUT, as I aged, the cutthroat side of the business presented itself. You have to be very aggressive to make it the entertainment industry, and I was anything but. Still, I did okay while I was “home” in Los Angeles.

Then my husband (who I now know to be an N as well) accepted a job transfer in Arizona. I didn’t assert myself on that, accepted the move, and in the process developed an anxiety disorder. With my self esteem dwindling, I now failed to assert myself enough in job interviews to get the positions I wanted. Like you, one of them, I thought, would be my dream job: assistant art director at an ABC affiliate. I lost out to a younger person because I didn’t assert myself when they told me that my major market background made me over-qualified, and that I “wouldn’t be happy” in the position. I was unable to stand tall and tell them that *I* am the only one to determine what makes me happy. How dare they decide that on my behalf?

So I ended up working as a production assistant at age 40, putting my MBA to use fetching coffee. I started weekly therapy, which is when I was finally told, “Sounds like your mother had NPD.” The darned thing is, at that age, the damage was done. As you said, “solutions were complicated.”

When I moved back to L.A. I must have sent out 100 resumes, but it was futile. No employer could make sense of a resume that went in reverse. Why would someone who was Director of Advertising move to a small town, and work entry level production jobs in the middle of the desert? I was finally offered a minimum wage gig as a talent agent’s assistant, a position that is, in my opinion, the single most demeaning job in the business. The woman who was my boss was horrid to me. At the same time, my NM began to ridicule me for my failing career. I guess that’s when I finally learned to assert myself because I made the decision to go NC. Perhaps the rage I felt towards my mother transferred to the workplace, and N-boss was next. One day, after having a shoe thrown at me, I told her to F herself and walked off the job. This probably went beyond asserting myself. This was the point of just f*ck everyone who was hurting me.

I didn't mean for this to end up to be longer than your original essay, or for it to sound like a pity party. It wasn’t all bad. I had some wonderful experiences as a P.A., had a good deal of fun, and made friends that I’ll have for life. In hindsight, maybe I actually accomplished more than I give myself credit for, given how emotionally damaged I was. Still, I’ll always dwell on what could have been. Now that I’m “retired,” I’m trying to pull strength from it and move forward. I’m actively writing and hoping that a novel emerges (I'm close with over 300 pages). My writing draws from my own experiences, which I’m finding to be quite therapeutic. Maybe I can make lemonade out of this and become a successful writer. Or I won’t. Becoming a writer, again, not a great career choice for someone with low self-esteem, but I’m going to try because I’m stronger now and actually have a support system of fellow writers.

Okay, I’m rambling, but I needed to vent because your words really reached me. That’s the sign of a good essay. Thank you! I do hope your career is going well.

Hugs,
Kathy

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