My Dream Job: Part One

My Dream Job: Part One

Hello and welcome to Raped 25 Years. At this time, I share with you my journey to heal from sexual assault and abuse. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity. 

This is the beginning of a three-part series on my experience of living my “dream job”. In parts of the series, there will be horrifyingly graphic moments. I make no apology. I lived it, and in fact, I’m still living with the effects. That “dream job” has scarred my psyche.

It was my first job and I was 19 years old. I have a love of animals and I wanted to run my own farm one day. So I accepted a job offer as a farm hand in the meat department of a chicken company. I had family that worked in the same company. I was excited, grateful and happy to be starting work. I was told by the head manager, Mr M, I would be able to work as an assistant to the company vet, as I have the qualifications. But I must complete three month probation period on a farm first. 

I started as a permanent casual on one of the larger farms. I was told by the farm’s manager, Mr Jones, that the farm was  a happy place. I was not to do anything to rock the boat. I was assigned four sheds to take care of. The chickens were grown from hatching to six weeks. 

I found the work hard at first. I didn’t have the same amount of muscle as the men so I was no where near as strong. I am the only female on the farm. Within a week a worker I will name as Derek starts to hurt me. He hits me, spits on me and pushes me off the moving farm vehicles. An older worker (I will call him Sam) makes comments about my bra cup size. I make sounds of discomfort. I am told that Sam is “just like that” and “he doesn’t mean anything by it”. I say nothing else. Obviously it is a normal thing that happens in every workplace. Six weeks later the vertebrae in my lower back are fractured. Derek has pushed me off the moving tractor while it was pulling the trailer. 

I work at losing weight. I hope it will make work easier. I find I am very good at losing weight. I am walking up to 10 kilometres a day at work. I develop the rule of not eating before four o’clock in the afternoon. Four o’clock is the end of my working day.

Another worker (I will call him Jacob) is moved onto the farm from another chicken farm. Sam has been moved to a smaller farm and I am glad he is moved. Jacob makes fun of Derek, calling him a dick. So Derek starts to touch me. Especially in front of Jacob. Jacob tells me he will protect me against Derek’s attentions. But Jacob starts pushing me up against the shed walls. He does more than just touch, saying it’s his payment for protecting me. I still say nothing. As traumatic as I find each and every violent sexual assault, I think it’s just one of those things that normally happens at every workplace. I believe I have to put up with this abuse. 

As you can see, even from the very start of my employment, I was bullied by men who were perpetrators. It is so very easy to look back on this and say how stupid I was for remaining, even though I’d only been working such a short time. Mr M the manager was a perpetrator in verbal threats. Sam was a perpetrator by making unwanted sexual comments. Jacob and Derek were perpetrators of both physically traumatic abuse and constant sexual assaults.

It’s not hard to see that when you think you’ve attained your dream, there’s a rotten piece of the whole. Perpetrators come in all shapes and sizes. As is the irreversible trauma damage that they do. But though the perpetrators think that they have won and broken you, it doesn’t have to be the case. Yes, the trauma the perpetrators inflicted on me means I can never be the same as before the crimes committed against me, but I can still heal. And heal into something more beautiful than before. So, if I can heal, you can too. 

In looking for the gem this time, I have been looking through the internet for appropriate quotes. This is a sentiment expressed in many quotes, however is not a direct quote from any one person. Feel free to share it with others:

“It takes using all the broken pieces of our lives, to create a beautiful mosaic” 

This is only too true. Those perpetrators broke up my life and sense of self. But I’m choosing to use those pieces for something different, yet something that will be just as beautiful. Or even more beautiful than I might otherwise have been. And you can too.

Thank you for joining with me as I showed you the start of my “dream job” experience. Feel free to leave a comment on what beauty you see in your broken pieces. Don’t forget to join me next time, to learn more in part two of this three-part series. And until next time, breathe - and believe.