Friday, January 28, 2011

Scapegoat










The insomnia has me by the balls tonight, the result, no doubt, of a day of spent as the world's karmic whore. That appellation paraphrases something I read on Rob Brezny site freewillastrology.com, one of my regular stopping places online. His advice this week for those of us who identify as Capricorns was to become a "karma whore," i.e. "someone who performs an abundant number of favors and acts of kindness in the hope of accumulating extra good karma." I tried to act out the role as a karma whore, but ended up as a karmic whore, someone who endures unearned slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as atonement for past sins. I took a hit for the team today, let them use me as their whipping boy for things that 1) I didn't do and 2)were way beyond my pay grade. I saw the shit storm coming all week and couldn't do a thing to stop it. Shit rolls down hill and guess who's desk is at the bottom? However, I had a bit of a breakthough: For the first time , I took it all in stride with a modicum of grace. Rather than stand up for myself and contend with the injustice, as I have done in the past, I allowed the bullshit to roll off of me without a word protest.

And this, friends, is the best that I can hope for in my career: numbness. My great ambition is to not care, to let none of it touch me. It's a good day when I can insulate myself from the insanity, keep my head down and my mouth shut. That's what it has come down to.

Leviticus tells us that, on the Day of Atonement, one must pay for her sins and sin is atoned for by the blood of the sacrificial victim. The high priest, after becoming ritually pure, offered a bull for his sins and the sins of his household. Then two goats were set aside. Lots were cast, and one goat was chosen to be the scapegoat or "Azazel." The High Priest slaughtered the other goat to atone for the sins of Israel and brought the blood into the temple. The scapegoat was sent away to be lost in the desert after the High Priest laid both hands on its head and confessed the sins of Israel. In this way, the sins of the nation were symbolically carried off into the desert.

It feel like the sins of the organization were ritually laid upon head today and I was sent off to be lost in the desert. And I let it happen without a word of protest.

I sweat blood at my job, I work like a field hand, but I get no more support or respect than those who do as little as humanly possible. My ridiculous work ethic earns me more resentment than respect; the slackers suffer in comparison and they don't appreciate it. Since some of my so-called superiors are among them, it makes for a tricky situation.

Look, I get it: I'm not allowed to complain about work. I am employed (peripherally) in a field I love, doing work I respect with people I like. They've even begun to let me work from home part-time. But the pettiness, the back biting, the paranoia, the snobbery, the ruthlessness, the rigid hierarchies, the smug self-satisfaction - it all becomes too much sometimes. My first conscious thought in the morning is one of dread at another work day. The uselessness of it, the years of wasted effort, it wears me down.

Psychologist Albert Ellis identified one of the scripts that runs in a neurotic mind : "I absolutely must, under practically all conditions and at all times, perform well (or outstandingly well) and win the approval (or complete love) of significant others. If I fail in these important -- and sacred -- respects, that is awful and I am a bad, incompetent, unworthy person, who will probably always fail and deserves to suffer." There have been times when I've struggled with that brand of neurosis. I have to remind myself daily that, despite my flaws, I'm a worthy person who does not deserve to suffer. Working for an organization that suffers from the same delusion doesn't help.

And yet, I endure; they haven't chased me away yet. Mama used to say, "don't let 'em beat you, baby. Don't let them beat you." Bloodied but unbowed, I stand my ground. But damn, I'm tired of the fight. Is this really how we are meant to live our lives, toiling pointlessly in quiet desperation?

1 comment:

Greg J. said...

The prerequisite of every successful goal is you must feel inspired by it. If you don’t feel inspired at all, you are no different from a withering corpse. No point beating yourself to do things that don’t make you feel energized. Many have the misconception that life is all about toiling through misery and suffering to achieve results which will then make you happy. That can’t be further from the truth. It’s about feeling happy throughout the whole process, which will then bring you the results you seek.

In a situation where your goals no longer inspire, the fastest way to kickstart everything is to clear out all your past goals and set new ones.

- from http://celestinechua.com/blog/when-goals-stop-working/