calamityjim (calamityjim) wrote,

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Jim’s Icky Awful Terrible No Good Day

Warnings for triggers. This is really raw.

So if you guys are out there, I could really use some support on this one.

On June 18, my dad came to visit me at work.

I present as female. My father is nearly sixty. And I sell sex toys for a living.

I am a woman who had a man in the store to whom she was not selling product and if anyone had asked would only have been able to respond with he’s my father. This means that in a store where employees are asked to provide by the more creepy elements and have been fired for engaging is sexual solicitation, I had a man who I would have called my daddy to explain why he was there.

So even if no one thought that I was being picked up by a John, I would still be seen as someone who has extreme boundary issues with my father that resulted in him coming to a store, where I sell sex toys, to visit me. I can’t even fake selling a toy to him to pass him off as just a customer, and he’s old and looks a little creepy which has caused good money to flee the store before. Dudes make chicks uncomfortable and we mainly sell to chicks.

So what are the chances of having gotten caught?

The owner of the company was there an hour before my dad showed, without warning or invitation. The regional manager popped by randomly early this week because she wanted to rearrange things and she still owes us a sign for one section, so she could be showing up at any time. My manager was due to come in in forty minutes.

So the chances of having gotten caught were extremely fucking high.

What would the consequences have been?

Well, for starters I would have lost any shot I had at a promotion. Gone. It’s been the one thing I haven’t been able to shut up about since I started this job. It was brought up in my interview. My manager is deeply concerned they will promote me before she’s had me a year and then she will have to try and hire someone else. And if I can get a manager position and hold it long enough to prove I can do it I can jump to so many different jobs. All these shut doors open. And I will get health insurance so I won’t ever have to decide between bread or medication that will keep me sane. I can live close enough to the poverty line that I will be able to see it.

And it would be gone. Forever.

I could have gotten fired. It would have been harder to do because I just squeaked past my three month probation, but not impossible. Especially not if they thought I really was using the job to make ties as a call girl. It’s happened at other stores. Other girls have gotten fired for just that reason.

And I don’t have enough money to handle that. If I couldn’t get a new job in a month, by mid July at the latest, I would have ended up homeless. And how do you get a job when you got fired from your last job for possible sexual solicitation and now have no reference?

So yeah, consequences. They are a thing.

And father’s day is this Sunday. It was supposed to be happening at my sister’s. I texted her to let her know I couldn’t make it because I’d yell at dad. She thinks I’m unfairly bailing on her, and that if I can’t have family come visit me at work then I need to send out a fucking memo, and that I should be able to pretend to be nice for a few fucking hours to make her happy. And she’s the feminist in the family so out of everyone she should have a goddamn clue that gender norms do play in to actual life. But she didn’t give me a chance to explain that I could have been fired for being a whore and ignored me when I pointed out that the fucking owner of the fucking company had been there, in my store, an hour before dad showed up. And he occasional swings back with transfers or because he forgot to drop something off. This is the first time in three weeks that he actually hasn’t come back.

So now I’m a big villain.

I am a mess. And I have to phone my regional manager and explain to her that I’m not a prostitute and that I am trying to prevent my dad from swinging by but I have no control. So I have to call my regional manager to explain that I have daddy issues to protect me from losing my job and my shot at management. Which could cost me my shot at management. I don’t think it will but holy hell.

And manic. I just got down again and if I am not manic tomorrow I will be shocked. Absolutely shocked. Which is why I can’t play pretend on Sunday. Mania means my filter is gone. I can already feel this pressure backlog that’s a pretty strong hint I’m heading to a bad place. I just got over my last mania Friday. And I did everything right.

And the best part? The cherry on this Sunday? The last time I saw my father was when he told my therapist I wouldn’t admit to being raped in uni, that I wasn’t gay, wasn’t ace, and that if my best friend Bones could hang in there a little longer I’m settle down and marry him. That’s my dad.

My parents divorced because my dad was emotionally abusive and on the path to physically abusive. He once grabbed me and shook me as he screamed at me and I pissed myself in fear. I was seven.

He did the things. He went to anger management. He got better, slowly, but he did. Though he struck my brother on my sister’s 18th birthday. I still remember that. He came down and apologized to me. I don’t know if he apologized to my brother. I would have been 15. My brother was 12.

So in order to handle this we separated him. There is Old Dad and New Dad. And I did this so I could have a relationship with my father, because I can’t have a relationship with Old Dad.

But today it all came crashing down. They aren’t separate. Old Dad is New Dad and New Dad still doesn’t understand how he still hurts me. He had no business showing up. He thought he was being funny by making me uncomfortable. I could have lost a future I have been trying to build for a long time and the one job I have ever enjoyed having. And he still doesn’t take responsibility for the stuff he does. That came out when he saw my shrink.

“I don’t think I was that bad.”

 “We had good times. We were a family.”

“I didn’t deserve what happened.”

When my parents divorced, dad didn’t get custody. He saw us every other weekend, so from 7pm Friday to 7pm Sunday twice a month. He got either thanksgiving or easter, never both, and either Christmas or New Years. And then a month in the summer in which we barely saw him because he had work. Now let’s toss in all the time he was helping a friend because dad can’t say no to a friend, and I’m left with very little time with my dad.

Oh, and let’s not forget the weekends I skipped because he wouldn’t fucking shut up about how the divorce broke his soul. I was in grade four playing counselor to my father and had to write him a letter to get him to stop it and quite seeing him to prove I meant it.

He told my therapist that I’d done this twice and it was because of mom. The second one was because of mom and hormones because I’d just found out second hand that my grandmother was dying because no one bothered to fucking tell me. The first one was because I knew my father’s entire side of the divorce.

But even now he’s rewritten the story. Cause it can’t be his fault.

I can’t keep giving him a pass. I could have lost my job. The job I love. Because dad. And now my sister is pissed I can’t play nice for a few hours because my abusive father who has never been there for me, has never believed me when I told him the important things, could have cost me my job because he thinks he’s entitled to my time. Fuck, I told him about the abuse and he didn’t believe me. I thought he would have learned. But nope. I was just testing Bones out before I marry him.

And right now I should be eating something so I can take the medication that helps with my highs, and my stomach is upset because I had an anxiety attack. A very long anxiety attack. Had to phone a friend anxiety attack. There was an inability to breathe and everything. Been a while. Totally missed the feeling of choking on air.

I don’t know what to do. It feels like everything I have been finally getting a hold of, a neutral place with family, a job with a future, and my sanity, are all slipping through my fingers. And I didn’t do anything wrong. I have worked so hard for this and to have come as close as I have to losing it and now to be the bad guy for not being okay with that?

I don’t even.


AN- It’s been like ten minutes since I finished typing this and I bought some expensive chocolate earlier to try and make my night better. I felt it was important for you to know that eating chocolate after a panic attack must be what sex feels like. Holly. Crap. I mean, I’ve eaten this chocolate before and it has never tasted this good. I moaned. I didn’t know people really did that. I thought it was a strange literature trope. Nope. Totally moaned. So, for future reference, keep some fancy chocolate or whatever your comfort food is because it almost makes having an anxiety attack worth it. OMG. I’m gonna go eat a second piece.

Oh wow. Wow. Best part? Guilt free because it will give me the calories I need to take my meds. 
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