Self Medicating Trauma
The day I decided to quit my job at the restaurant was
the second day that I was awake tossing and turning.
When I drink a lot I pass out but then after the initial inebriation
settles into my body I wake up at 2 or 4 or 6am feeling a
very certain kind of shitty. This certainty about the certain
shitty comes from my body's familiarity with self medicating
trauma. I'd gotten a job working as a general kitchen/server
staff at this restaurant in Tokyo just 2.5 months ago to
strengthen my Japanese fluency. The work was not only
physically demanding but also mentally challenging for me
to work in my still developing second language AND deal
with the I'll treatment of all the managers around me. At first,
when times were hard I was being scolded constantly for
doing things wrong, and not remembering where things went I
absorbed all criticism. It was my fault, my Japanese was
shitty, I was not accustomed to Japanese work culture,
I wasn't good with authority, it was certainly my incompetence
that was causing them all to be so upset, irritated, rude and
unhappy whenever I was trying my hardest to do my job.
'But, I soon came to realize that I was indeed being treated
unfairly and that this was just a low paid part time job that did
not deserve so much sacrifice of my mental health, brain
strain and hard labor. My bosses hardly said hello or goodbye
or thank you to me and this alone contributed to the eventual
feeling that I was being punished for choosing to work there.
When someone looks at you with disgust on a constant basis,
when someone slams their hand on the counter and yells at you
to move faster, when management thinks it's okay to scold you
every shift in addition to reducing your hours to barely making
the job worth your time, it is known as something called
'Power Harassment’ in Japan. In America, it's called
“workplace abuse/bullying” and it happens frequent enough but
in Japan the hierarchical social structure and the people's
intolerance to immigrants paves a clear path to be able to silently
abuse workers who aren't outspoken or who for whatever reason
depend on the abusive job for survival and are afraid to speak up
about working conditions. My case for neither of these descriptions.
In my case, I am a survivor of an abusive romantic relationship,
various sexual assaults and workplace violence as an independent
sex worker and abuse as an employed sex worker from co-workers
and management. Violence while doing sex work is not the
same as abuse from co-workers as a sex work employee and in
the many many years of working in escort agencies, brothels and
strip clubs I'd experienced many forms of it. It wasn't actually until
I just wrote this blog that it all came back to the forefront of my
current existence just how much bullshit I have survived. While
it was happening at the restaurant I thought it was residual
relationship violence because I once got scolded for drying the
wine glasses facing down not up and the boss on shift was
acting like a boyfriend who wanted to slap me or break a glass
for intimidation sake because I dared to forget what he'd told me one
strengthen my Japanese fluency. The work was not only
physically demanding but also mentally challenging for me
to work in my still developing second language AND deal
with the I'll treatment of all the managers around me. At first,
when times were hard I was being scolded constantly for
doing things wrong, and not remembering where things went I
absorbed all criticism. It was my fault, my Japanese was
shitty, I was not accustomed to Japanese work culture,
I wasn't good with authority, it was certainly my incompetence
that was causing them all to be so upset, irritated, rude and
unhappy whenever I was trying my hardest to do my job.
'But, I soon came to realize that I was indeed being treated
unfairly and that this was just a low paid part time job that did
not deserve so much sacrifice of my mental health, brain
strain and hard labor. My bosses hardly said hello or goodbye
or thank you to me and this alone contributed to the eventual
feeling that I was being punished for choosing to work there.
When someone looks at you with disgust on a constant basis,
when someone slams their hand on the counter and yells at you
to move faster, when management thinks it's okay to scold you
every shift in addition to reducing your hours to barely making
the job worth your time, it is known as something called
'Power Harassment’ in Japan. In America, it's called
“workplace abuse/bullying” and it happens frequent enough but
in Japan the hierarchical social structure and the people's
intolerance to immigrants paves a clear path to be able to silently
abuse workers who aren't outspoken or who for whatever reason
depend on the abusive job for survival and are afraid to speak up
about working conditions. My case for neither of these descriptions.
In my case, I am a survivor of an abusive romantic relationship,
various sexual assaults and workplace violence as an independent
sex worker and abuse as an employed sex worker from co-workers
and management. Violence while doing sex work is not the
same as abuse from co-workers as a sex work employee and in
the many many years of working in escort agencies, brothels and
strip clubs I'd experienced many forms of it. It wasn't actually until
I just wrote this blog that it all came back to the forefront of my
current existence just how much bullshit I have survived. While
it was happening at the restaurant I thought it was residual
relationship violence because I once got scolded for drying the
wine glasses facing down not up and the boss on shift was
acting like a boyfriend who wanted to slap me or break a glass
for intimidation sake because I dared to forget what he'd told me one
week ago the last time I was at work. “Didn't I tell you this already?
Don't you understand when I tell you things?” he chided,
waiting for a submissive affirmation and ending shaking his
head and telling me how I never listen. I end my shift during the
daytime around 3pm and head straight to the convenience store
to get two bottles of whatever would take the pain from
that day away. “Hello, PTSD my old friend…” a modified
Don't you understand when I tell you things?” he chided,
waiting for a submissive affirmation and ending shaking his
head and telling me how I never listen. I end my shift during the
daytime around 3pm and head straight to the convenience store
to get two bottles of whatever would take the pain from
that day away. “Hello, PTSD my old friend…” a modified
version of the Simon and Garfunkel will tune my body for the
next 24 hours. Self medicating trauma comes to me as
instinctual as taking a bath for muscle pain. I allow it because
I know myself well enough to know it is not a gateway to addiction,
it's a gateway to strong action awayfrom having to self medicate in
the first place. When I was a late night escort, independent or otherwise
however I do remember quitting not being as attractive an option
as self medicating to endure a situation that I felt was out
of my control. But thispart time restaurant job was a decade later
in a different part of the world but still with the same body that
holds the same trauma. When self medicating with substances I
drink or drug until I feel some distance from the situation at hand.
And through this haze and numbness, I actually get strength and
clarity. Strange, right? I've since quit the job, filed a complaint and
type this with totally satisfied with how far I've come from any kind of
abuse or violence, embracing my imperfections and shortcomings
gently, reflecting sober after the unsober and grateful that I've at least
always had the ability to not make the substances add and multiply
the original situation like many who can't control what happens after
the uncontrollable grasp and pull towards the medicine.
next 24 hours. Self medicating trauma comes to me as
instinctual as taking a bath for muscle pain. I allow it because
I know myself well enough to know it is not a gateway to addiction,
it's a gateway to strong action awayfrom having to self medicate in
the first place. When I was a late night escort, independent or otherwise
however I do remember quitting not being as attractive an option
as self medicating to endure a situation that I felt was out
of my control. But thispart time restaurant job was a decade later
in a different part of the world but still with the same body that
holds the same trauma. When self medicating with substances I
drink or drug until I feel some distance from the situation at hand.
And through this haze and numbness, I actually get strength and
clarity. Strange, right? I've since quit the job, filed a complaint and
type this with totally satisfied with how far I've come from any kind of
abuse or violence, embracing my imperfections and shortcomings
gently, reflecting sober after the unsober and grateful that I've at least
always had the ability to not make the substances add and multiply
the original situation like many who can't control what happens after
the uncontrollable grasp and pull towards the medicine.
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