My Hell (A Letter to a Former Employer)

Dear Boss,

This is an extremely long letter. Despite that many of the segments of information may seem irrelevant, they all play a decent role in where I’m at. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be this open with an employer. I don’t expect you to read it all, care or to acknowledge any of it, but I thought it best I offer up this information, most of which is very private. Some of these things I refuse to share with anyone. However, it’s relevant. If you’re reading past this introduction, I’m sorry and please bear with me. I don’t know how else to handle this.
As a disclaimer, I’d like to remind you that I am not telling you what I’m about to tell you for sympathy, pity, forgiveness, justification, or an excuse. I acknowledge that the way I handled everything was abnormal, out of character, unfair, rude, disrespectful and, in total, wrong and I don’t expect mercy. I understand why my welcome has nearly dissipated. I haven’t earned the privilege of mercy by my actions.

I received your letter from UPS and would like to apologize sincerely. To be honest, I thought my employment was terminated the day I called Guidance Resources on lunch to help me avoid committing suicide because I was irresponsible and didn’t tell anybody. I was very happy to know that I still have a job to go back to and my gratitude for your patience is indescribable. I genuinely appreciate you and I owe you my life. I never did mean to disrespect you; however, in the mindset I’ve been in since the wreck, I was inconsiderate, and it seemed inevitable and uncontrollably so. However, there’s no excuse. I was wrong in the way I handled the situation.
I genuinely, wholeheartedly want to come back to work. I appreciate you, the company, the client and the opportunities and I do need it. I can say I’m mentally getting better. Unfortunately, I am getting worse physically, but as I mentioned on the phone, I’m not at risk of making that worse working at work. Also, I understand I’ve most definitely utilized all my “Get Out of Jail Free” cards and you’re still reaching out offering me opportunity that I don’t deserve. My greatest concern is telling you I’m ready and able to manage coming in and having good attendance and then failing to come through. I’ve already broken the attendance policy and I wish not to run into circumstances that make me repeat history, causing issues for you. I am going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening.
I may have a few things to attend to that I would like to see if we can work something out, such as getting my daughter to school by 8:00 a.m., which I will need to have shifts after 9 a.m. Monday through Friday (calculating in time to get to work/drive time/ride time/etc.).

To begin, it’s probably best I explain to you the reason I left that day at lunch. As pathetic as it was, I felt like a joke and a waste of time and a failure and I found myself planning how I would commit suicide once I was off work so I could no longer burden anybody. I had nobody I felt comfortable talking to. I never feel comfortable talking to anyone. I’m literally afraid of everyone and I don’t know why. Well, I kind of do, but that will be explained later in the letter since it does play a large role in why I spiraled out of control so easily following the wreck. At the time, the best alternative I was able to come up with was to go where nobody would overhear my conversation and I called Guidance Resources for help. I told them that I was needing help to not have suicidal thoughts that were scaring me because little was going to prevent me from following through and that the reason I felt that way was not because I wanted to die, but because I was tired of the disorientation and emotional pain tormenting me with an unforgiveable self-destructive voice of regret.
To summarize where I was at mentally, I was running from a person who continues to try to find me and hurt me and had just started to pick up the pieces from that mess that was already followed by another mess and so on, and then the wreck happened and my mind became analogous to scrambled eggs contained by metal bowls in a powered-on microwave. You informed me that you guys were worried about me, and in all honesty, so was I. You had reason to be. In the wrong circumstances, I have no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be here to write this. The only time I was glad I survived this wreck was right after it happened. Every day since, I can’t say it was the same until recently.
It wasn’t just the wreck alone or the transportation or my grandma or my daughter or responsibilities or finances. It was those piled up on top of the mountain of chaos I was already working on fixing. I felt like I was doing fine until the wreck happened, but when the wreck happened, I snapped. I couldn’t take anymore. I wasn’t myself anymore. I didn’t smile anymore. I didn’t know anyone anymore. Everyone has been a stranger since. I didn’t trust anybody anymore. I felt like I was vulnerable to anyone and everyone everywhere and I couldn’t escape. I just wanted to run and hide and never be seen again, which made me want to die.
The good news is that I think I’m getting better. I feel like I’m getting better. Talking on the phone to you did spark motivation, relief, excitement, gratitude, and confidence. It also reduced a lot of stress and fear. So thank you.
The next several pages are a rollercoaster and I don’t expect you to read it, but I’m offering it in case you need it for any reason.
I think the next best information to disclose is what brought me to this part of Oregon in the first place. Be forewarned, this is a twisted series of events and I can only hope that I explain it in a way that it can be easily followed. So, here goes:

At one point, I was happy for the first time since I was about 7 years old. It was just my daughter and I in our apartment across the hall from my grandmother and I worked my way up from a dishwasher at a golf course in Tillamook, OR to leading the kitchen in around 6 months, which led to me landing a job in Ellensburg, WA as an Assistant Restaurant Manager paying salary around 6 months later. I doubled my potential income in one year. My daughter was 2. She’s now almost 6.

I had to move in with my mom, stepfather, and 2 youngest brothers (and to avoid disrespect, I’ll simply say I should have known better because my stepfather broke each and every one of us and plays a large role in why I’m here). This was definitely a mistake, as I was unaware that I had Narcolepsy despite the symptoms I had been experiencing since I was 17 years old, the place of employment was located 70 miles from my place of residence, I was responsible for all of the housework at home, and my family is unhappy and has been for almost 20 years now. I’m almost 28 years old.

The place of employment in Ellensburg had a high turnover rate, which I attribute to superiority-complexes that some Corporate bosses possessed. “We’ve got to go check on the children.” The golf course’s GM and I rebuilt the heart of the restaurant on the golf course into one that valued team player attitudes, support, understanding, and equality, but that’s beside the point.

Anyway, one day my Graveyard shift cook fractured or sprained her thumb. Her shift began before 11 p.m. and ended at 5:00 a.m. and she needed it covered, which was my job. My shift was at 5:30 a.m. and ended around 2:30 p.m. Due to the high turnover rate, there was nobody else to cover, so I was left no choice but to work both of our shifts.
The only part that bothered me was that 140 miles round-trip is guaranteed to put me to sleep behind the wheel in 100+ degree weather in the desert. I got lucky for short sleep attacks that woke me up before I completely swerved into another lane each time I did. I don’t know how many times I’ve fallen asleep behind the wheel of cars. Especially when I’m sleep-deprived and the cook needed a second night off. So, I got to go home and sleep for 3 hours and drive 70 miles back to Ellensburg. I told my boss “You’re going to have to let me sleep sometime,” and he responded “You can sleep when you’re dead,” which I then replied to saying, “If we keep this up, it’ll be sooner than we both expect and my life insurance only covers my funeral.” My boss then agreed to let me sleep after my shift ended. I had been getting dizzy with every movement by this point which was likely caused by stress, no sleep, and no food, so I was then diagnosed with Vertigo and because my boss’ boss’ son had Vertigo, my boss agreed to lay me off until that was fixed.

Since I was now unemployed, I decided to go back to college to earn my Bachelor of Science in Legal Studies with a minor in Forensics to open up the opportunity to become a CSI or a Paralegal. I even got a scholarship at a point. A small one from the school, but a scholarship nonetheless. I originally started college when I was 19 to get my Associate of Arts degree in Psychology and by the time of these events, I had decided that that field wasn’t right for me because I don’t like getting close to people or people getting close to me and you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped, which happens to be most Mental Health patients.

That was followed by a job at a place owned by a husband and wife. The wife thought I was useless and stupid. To make matters more uncomfortable, her husband touched my butt because I accidentally got flour on the back of my pants. So, I quit about a month into that job.

Soon after, I landed a job at a place that turned cow halves into steak and pig halves into ham and my job was to wrap the cuts, so they were leak proof, label and freeze them. That boss gave a raise every pay period of 50 cents. But when my boyfriend came to the UK to meet me for the first time, I left that job to travel the US with him.

Then all my family (mom, stepfather, brothers, and daughter) and I moved to Tillamook into my grandmother’s apartment that I formerly resided across the hall from. It was one-bedroom apartment, but I got a job at the golf course as a cook almost immediately and was planning to build back up what had just fallen apart. That was made a bit difficult because my stepfather has “Little Dog Syndrome” when he drinks, which he often did, leading to my grandmother’s eviction.

She moved to Milwaukie, OR and the rest of us moved next door  to where we just left to my great-aunt’s, my grandmother’s sister’s two-bedroom where her 2 sons and one of their girlfriends, occasionally her two kids, 2 dogs and three cats were already living.

I went out for a couple of Long Island Iced Teas with my mom and stepfather. When I came home, my daughter, once again, informed me that my 14 year-old brother pushed her. My stepfather accused her of lying. At now 3 years old, she did not lie about anything, let alone come out crying about someone pushing her. I stood up for her and told my stepfather (who had compared it to when I was my brother’s age) that I was coming to him parent to parent to have his son stop being violent toward my daughter and I attribute the next action of mine to a life of resentment and too much liquor without food. I jumped over a reclining chair and tried to destroy my stepfather.
When my mom pointed out my daughter’s presence, I cried, grabbed my daughter by the hand and walked out of the house. 2 blocks later, I was stopped by a State Trooper because the brother who was pushing my daughter called the cops after I left the house and the station wasn’t far. They let me call my mom to pick up my daughter and waited until she left to arrest me where I was bailed out a few hours later by my other brother.

Upon my bail release, I was informed that a No-Contact Order had been placed between my stepfather and myself which meant that either he could stay where we were residing or my daughter and I could, but not both. My aunt chose him because I jumped over the chair and threw the punch. My daughter and I were able to sleep at my great-uncle’s house that evening/morning, but we slept in my car that had all our possessions in it intermittently with my great-uncle’s house.

This led me to search for a place for my daughter to call home. The first place available was a red shed on the driveway of a family’s manufactured home’s property for $550/month. It didn’t have a shower, but we had a plastic tub, wash cloths, soap and a cup and a sponge bath is better than sleeping in the seat of a packed Dodge Intrepid. My mother-in-law to-be loaned me the $750 it cost to move in and after only a week of homelessness, my daughter had a “home” to sleep in at night.

This was right before another term of college happened and I was working full-time and taking full credits for the term. At the end of this term, despite the hiccups, I passed the term with a B in every class and without lacking in attendance at work while keeping my daughter cared for by myself, attending Diversion classes for Domestic Violence every week, jumping through the hoops for a K-1 Visa for my fiancé to marry me in the States and I still wasn’t very stressed. It was manageable.

About a month later, my landlords brought an RV onto the driveway, approximately 15 feet from my front door of the shed. They were planning to rent it and offered me to switch into it, but I was satisfied with the shed. We made it our home. Upon discovering this RV was for rent, my stepfather ignored the fact that a No-Contact Order would put me in jail risking my daughter being taken from me in the process and he spoke with my landlords while I was working and they were going to rent the RV. I told my mom I didn’t want them to live there for that reason and my stepfather was angry. When he gets upset, he goes to the bar and says very negative things about my mom, my brothers, my grandmother and me.

On this particular evening, he triggered the beginning of an endless downward spiral that has not ceased to snowball to this day. He told a 40-year-old man with a half-burned face about the RV and my daughter and me. “I didn’t think he’d remember how to get there,” he said when he was telling me how the predator discovered the RV.

So, the predator moved in with his dog. The predator and his dog minded their own business and so did I for the first month. I had a firm rule with myself to not make friends because of too many people with bad intentions. However, the predator befriended my mother and daughter when I was at work and my mother was babysitting at my shed. So, the predator started giving my daughter apples and crab and his dog loved her. His dog was a pit bull and a kind dog. Sensitive, paranoid, and kind. I decided to be neighborly and equally friendly.

Eventually, I was dog-sitting while he worked because his dog trusted few and I was one of those few. Discovering he was on Suboxone (an opiate blocker) for “pain-management”, I believed him because they put my mom on Methadone for the same thing.
One day, I had to go to the hospital for my face going numb, as I’d had Bell’s Palsy twice before and needed to make sure it wasn’t going to come back a third time. I came back with Tramadol for pain and was unaware that it was used for recreation. I wasn’t in pain because I don’t feel much physical pain by nature. I never have. I don’t like to be tired either. Tired prevents productivity.
He was in pain and stopped taking Suboxone, so I let him have the Tramadol (which I thought was something similar to Ibuprofen). There were only around 6 pills in the prescription to begin with and I didn’t take any or need any.

Soon after the Tramadol, he went to the doctor for something else and got different pills. Then tried to convince me to lie to get more Tramadol. When I refused, he admitted he needed to be supervised with pills and left the responsibility to me. Then he lied about taking them so I would give him more and blamed me for giving him too many. I gave him what I knew the prescriptions instructed, unaware that he had taken many more. I believe it was Valium that was the biggest issue of all the medications he had.

Next, his Jeep was broken down and he needed to borrow my car that my grandmother gave me. I handed him the keys, ignoring the gut feeling that it was a bad idea, and went to work catching a ride from my mom. I figured since he was working on the car (it literally went 30 miles on $10 in gas due to an O2 sensor needing to be replaced), I should be able to trust him to borrow it for 5 miles in total.
Halfway through my shift, I get a call from my mom that the car was found in a ditch and he left the scene of the accident. I hung up with my mom and immediately received a phone call from The predator and told him I already knew and that the cops were looking for him for leaving the scene of the accident. At this point, he claimed that the steering being difficult (which it was) was what caused him to wreck. Later, he confessed that he took a decent amount of Valium and fell asleep behind the wheel.


His wrecking of my grandma’s car led to my landlords surprising me with “You all have to leave”, accusing me of selling drugs and using my mom babysitting as a cover. I explained to them that I loaned the vehicle to him to go down the road to NAPA to buy parts to fix his Jeep so he wouldn’t have to continue to use my grandma’s car.

The predator kept saying he’d speak with the landlords for me because I was afraid that they disliked me for being anti-social and remaining inside the shed when I was home. He said that was why they were cautious around me and they didn’t trust me. Later on, I was informed by the predator’s boss that the predator said I got him into drugs.

Now, he needed me to drive his Jeep after he fixed it to take him to work and dog-sit once I was off work because he had no license. Thus, I was responsible for myself, my daughter, his dog, the predator and every transpiring event involving any or all of us. To him, I was, anyway. I was relied on and blamed for everything in their lives and ours, but when positive credit was due to our direction, the predator was then, and only then, responsible.

He had plans to move us all out to Banks, OR where he would “leave the property for my fiancé to move in” upon the approval of the K-1 Visa we were in the process of. I didn’t do this.

Due to being held responsible for everything and having nobody to back me up, he was able to literally beat me down enough to make me lose sight of what was going on behind my back. He was the “hero” and relished the fact that he was the only one physically there to watch my back since I was a “poor, helpless single mother”. He even referred to me as “young lady” when scolding me for getting in my car with my daughter to run to the store one evening prior to his wrecking of said car. I was property and a service tool to him. He had me right where he needed me, and I didn’t even know it.

I won’t be going into any detail here. I’m sure the next sentence will say enough. The predator raped me in every sense of the word. Physically, emotionally, intellectually… you name it, he took it with force. Enough said. I was living in a rural part of rural Tillamook and he claimed to have a gun in the RV and claimed to have nearly killed someone with a belt. I had no escape at this time.

Luckily, he stirred enough up with the landlords to get me thrown out illegally and given 24 hours to leave with my daughter. It didn’t feel lucky at first, though.  He said they kicked him out, too, so he could go where I was going and later informed me that he was able to go back. I found a motel in Rockaway Beach, OR (a.k.a. my escape from his grip.)
I paid for one night and he then told me how I’m to blame for everything bad that transpired and, before going to work, I told the owner of the motel that he was “not being very nice to me” and that I wasn’t coming back if he was. Before I returned from work, he had managed to cover two weeks for my daughter and I to stay there as an attempt to “apologize”. But when the owner told me I didn’t have to allow him back after he tried to get a key to get in while I was at work, I kept him away. Nobody knew me and he didn’t have the time to turn anyone against me yet, so I knew that if he tried to hurt me, these people would respond if I screamed, unlike before.

My cousin loaned me his car to get back and forth to work and one night, I went Geocaching with a co-worker and my daughter around Rockaway Beach. When we finished and my co-worker went home, my daughter said she was hungry, so I decided to take her to Garibaldi to grab a burger from Dairy Queen, as it was the only place open nearby.
It was around 10 p.m. I wasn’t too tired when I left. I drove for 5 minutes before I got heavy sleep attacks and cataplexy took place, preventing me from pushing the gas pedal hard enough to reach the speed limit. I kept waking and falling asleep while trying to find a safe spot to pull off. I couldn’t see any, so I planned to pull off at the the store just up the road so I could stretch, have a cigarette and wake up a little. Then I opened my eyes from another sleep attack heading toward a lake which startled me into overcorrecting into a ditch with about 2 feet of water.

My fiancé came from Wales, UK 10 days later to help me out, which was perfect timing because for the first time since motherhood, I became dangerously suicidal. My daughter’s scream from the backseat when the car was crashing rang in my head repeatedly along with the last thought I had before the car stopped, which was “I just killed her. I just killed her potential”. The wreck happened on the 8th anniversary of my first love’s death, who died at age 19, followed by his mom’s suicide 8 months later, which made me cry every day for a year.

While my fiancé was with us, he opened Pandora’s Box (he told me a secret he hadn’t told anyone regarding a traumatic event from his childhood that sent him into a spiral). I broke further each time he left, and I had feared his death. I can’t go through that again and survive in one piece.

I was serving a Diversion Agreement with the courts regarding the drunken night of terror at this time, but my fiancé decided to take my daughter and I to Spain with him to take care of us while I was broken, and the courts let me go for a few months. But at this time, he was broken as well, and while in Spain at a flat a parent of his owns, he went to his other parent’s house, leaving my daughter and I alone with no way out. He even broke up with me for a day after several days of silence.

While I was in Spain, I received a message from the predator on FaceBook asking how I was doing, and I told him to “f*** off” and blocked him.

From 60 to 0
By the time I left, all was good again. Though, since the predator, I started to fail all my college classes. I’ve retaken and failed a couple of them more than once as well. I know the content taught like the back of my hand, but I can’t seem to pass the classes like I used to. I’ll attach my transcripts to this letter to show you what I mean. I had a 3.85 GPA. I have less than a 2.0 currently. I also owe $630 before I am allowed to go back to school and I plan to transfer to an international college because I’m planning on moving out of the country, potentially first to the UK and hopefully to either Canada or Norway afterwards.        

Thankfully, the next bit is one I can fast forward a little. When I came back from Spain, I had a job, a car and an apartment within a month and completed the Diversion classes. There were some hiccups and I didn’t make enough to keep the apartment, so I moved into a stranger’s basement in Garibaldi. I ended up moving from there to Milwaukie with a friend, who turned out to be a narcissistic pig, because the predator frequented a bar down the road from said basement. While there, I received another message from the predator from a new FaceBook profile. I elaborated on the concept of “f****** off” this time and blocked him once again.

December 9, 2018, my daughter and I were supposed to stay in Wales with my fiancé for a few months but got denied entry in Manchester. Then we fixed the issues that caused the denial of entry and my fiancé flew us into Dublin the day after we were returned to New York. Dublin called Manchester for permission to allow us to enter and Manchester still denied us entry, so we came back to PDX and went to my mom’s and stepfather’s one-bedroom apartment in Tillamook, where I slept on the toilet or in the shower due to a lack of places to sleep. I had a job at the golf course cooking waiting for me, so I took it.

A while into working there, I discovered that the predator lived a block away from my job. I had the GM 86 him from the property before he had a chance to come in and do damage.

After I left the golf course while still staying at my mom’s and stepfather’s, the predator moved into the apartment complex, a complex with only approximately 10 apartments. That’s when I knew he was following me.

I moved into my uncle’s house with my daughter in Damascus and while there, I got invited to apply here, so I did. I got the job and felt like I stood a chance to move forward finally.

Right before starting training, my fiancé broke up with me for the 5th time this year and on the first day of training, my uncle said some things that made me feel worthless because of a misunderstanding and due to feeling alone, like a bad parent and like a bad person in general, I planned to hang myself after training was over because my daughter was staying where my grandmother lived at the time since the classes ended at 1 a.m. and she wouldn’t have to see me dead.

My daughter cried for me all day that day, so I picked her up instead of going “home” to die. She saw me crying and told me I was awesome to her and gave the best pep talk anyone could give,   as she tends to do. The positive environment at work paired with my daughter gave me hope that I could get back up from “rock bottom” and move forward, so I decided to get up and try again.

It wasn’t long before working here somehow made me feel better than I thought possible: confident, smiling, open-minded to stepping out of my comfort zone, and optimistic.

It was working until I was rear-ended with my trainer in my car. You saw the rest and now here I am, shattered and still disoriented.

So, as you already know, I wrecked on August 15th while driving home with my trainer since he lives in the same complex. Traffic began to slow down when we were rear-ended at 60mph and got shoved into the back of a box truck. All that was left of my car that my grandma just bought was the cab, which began to condense accordion-style. The front was gone, the trunk was gone, the backseat moved up to toward the front seat and the dash moved into my knees. My thoughts were:

“This is going to hurt.”
“My legs are going to break.”
“The car isn’t stopping; We’re going to die.”
“I can’t die. My daughter’s expecting me home.”
“If mind-over-matter can save me, now’s the time.”
“Don’t let your head hit the steering wheel. Stay conscious.”

Following up with those thoughts, it did hurt, but it stopped. My legs didn’t break. The car stopped after thought #6. I was grateful to be alive (but not since). I made it home and my daughter was happy and didn’t understand what happened and still doesn’t. Mind-over-matter may have saved us, or it was simply luck. My head hit the steering wheel after thought #6 right before the airbag punched me in the face.  
By the time I got out of the car, my trainer had already hopped through the window and was standing next to the car and the lady who hit us was just exiting her vehicle. It took me at least 7 attempts to call my grandma because I forgot how to use my cell phone. I forgot the drive from Dartmouth to the scene of the accident. It took several minutes to figure out what had just occurred.
I was unaware that disorientation was sign of a concussion, so I went to the hospital two days later. I haven’t been back since but have discovered more damage that needs to be assessed. At the time I had a scar on my hip from the seat belt, my knees were heavily bruised along with every muscle from my neck down, especially on the right side.

I hadn’t been working under your supervision for long before the wreck and I don’t know if you saw the short bit of optimism I finally got to experience. Unfortunately, I think you mostly encountered the aftermath of everything brought forward by the wreck and since wrecking, I don’t know how to use my words.
Whenever I was late, I did my best to avoid making excuses by putting everything on the inability to show up, blaming transportation, because I didn’t know how to, or if it was okay to, tell you what was going on.  If you made it this far, I can say that I’ve now told you everything.

But that wasn’t everything… There’s much more detail that wasn’t necessary to elaborate at the time. As a blog post, I will update this at some point with more details and information. If you subscribed, I’ll try to make sure you get an e-mail notification when it gets updated.

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