The more I know, the less I understand.

There are people in your life who've come and gone
They let you down, you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on
You keep carryin that anger; it'll eat you up inside

---Don Henley, The Heart of the Matter

Indeed. My tummy hurts.

This has been one of the most difficult weeks of my life. And I don't mean Paris Hilton difficult. I'm talking friggin David Hasselholf's wife difficult.

I thank everyone for the advice. You've given me an objective point of view that I can't possibly get IRL, even though all the information you have, you've gotten from me. So, I guess it's not totally objective, but you know what I mean.

My tummy is ruined. It feels like OJ Simpson has wrapped his angry fist of death around it and is squeezing it so hard that I don't know when I'm hungry and I don't know when I'm full. I don't know whether I'm going to puke or burp.

This morning I cried on the way to work. That damn Don Henley song came on and I lost it. Quiet tears, just streaming down my face and I just let them. Who gives a fuck about the makeup. Then at the end of the day, I got in the car, put on my seatbelt and looked over at city park across from my office, and started to sob. I wasn't really thinking about it, but I just started sobbing. I pulled away from the curb and got out on the road, and at some point during the drive my body just started going into spasms, and I started to really, really cry, like a child. Just this raw despair.

I keep wondering when the turning point is going to come. Then I opened my blog and saw Weltek's post, and I thought, well, you know, Weltek is right. I've been thinking about the whole grievance thing, and how I've still got twenty-five years to retirement, and I've got a litter to think about, and in spite of my desire for justice and my hurt pride and my shattered ego, I have to be a good little girl and suck it up.

OR. I quit, and go the way of GinGin. The way of GinGin is the way I want to go, but I can't do that unless I have a place to go.

So, my plan is to meet with grievance man anyway, and just get his take and his advice just in case I get to plan GinGin and have to prove that I went through all the proper channels.

My "other" boss (yeah, the place is complicated), who is very supportive and who is very new and is pretty disgusted by this whole mess, told me that I pretty much have two choices at this point: I can either tell them "screw you" and leave, or I can tell them "screw you" and prove to them that they're wrong about me. That means seeing them through this big reorganization, and making the place the perfect place that it should be and that I've wanted it to be since day one.

He doesn't want me to go.

But then there's another boss who has been avoiding me for two weeks. He's not really a boss, but he's quite superior to me and has been an amazing friend and source of support over the past year. Until he read the report. Suddenly, what is it? Shame? Guilt? Embarrassment? Not wanting to see me this way, so hurt, so beaten down, when he knows better than anyone what I've been through this year? He still bothers me. The mystery of his silence weighs heavily on my mind. And in my tummy.

The bottom line is: I came back for the students. I came back to make it a better place.

My boss who wants me to stay is going to talk to our new HR person to ask for advice on how he gets through this mess that has been caused by this report. He wants to tell her about our conversations; I say fine. Whatever. It can't get any worse. My tummy could not possibly feel worse.

Don Henley, you are one smart dude. It does eat you up inside. Forgiveness? Hah! For me to poop on! They have one stubborn Frisky on their hands, and forgiveness does not come easily for me. Resolution? Sounds good, but it's also part of the title of that damn report, so now I hate that fucking word.

Pride. That's what it's all about. I can't let my pride be my downfall, but at the same time, I'm too proud to stay. I'm not, evidently, too proud to drive down a busy road while my body is wracked with sobs while other drivers look alarmingly on.

Oh, Daddy. Please help me figure this one out.