Two Years On Part I

Two years ago today I wrote this testimony, about how I was feeling; at a time when my life was being engulfed by a bullying scandal; leaving a dangerous sociopath in charge of vulnerable volunteers and Managers at Oxfam, the charity I worked for. In 2017 I am in a far better place; these words seem a distant memory. In my entry today, I want to recall these events, so readers of 'Spanish Views' understand just where I was mentally and physically, two years ago. Over the next few days I will write part two, describing just how much I have changed, as my life moved forwards away from the memories of the past.

Recalling events 16 september 2015

I was always so full of ambition; there was so much I wanted to do. As a young boy, I was focused and knew where I wanted to go. None of us believes we will ever end up, in a situation, so obscure and heinous that a drama, could never pay justice to it. This is the first day I am able to sit quietly, put words on a page and really accept, that what I am seeing is true. Until today, my thoughts were so jumbled and misunderstood, even I doubted them. To place doubt in oneself, is an awful thing; for others, perpetuating that doubt, even worse. This Sunday, after five days of understanding, I can now piece together the scraps of evidence that only I could have collected; not on paper, but in my mind, that, although tired, will always be lucid enough to recall these events. After all, they have been with me, for what seems a life time, yet in reality, they have only been confirmed within my soul for six months. I have spent this time, searching for the truth, explanations and closure; today, at least, I can close this last open door, behind which the reality of my situation lies.

In 2008, after suffering, from what I thought was depression, something clicked inside of me; I wanted to be happy again; I wanted to experience a level of self respect the years had crumbled away. I applied for a job at Oxfam, as a Bookshop Manager; I loved books. The touch and feel, the smell, the words of people, many people, now gone; the books a reminder of who they once were, a living memory of lives, no longer there; books telling stories, of bravery, love, anger and pain; books with a past and permanent future that we can always dip in and out from, at will, taking a little bit of someone we never knew, with us, on our journey through life.

I had no expectations. If anything, I believed it would be the first of many applications, before I could achieve my goal of working again. I had a chequered history, where work was concerned, always achieving and failing at the same rate; no middle ground, just muddle and confusion over another failure in life, when I so wanted to succeed. I just wanted to do something in my life that I was finally a success at. I wanted to prove to myself and others, that I could be an achiever and not that constant failure, I was always reminded of by others!

It was a hot day, the interview was in Eastleigh, above the bookshop; I remember entering the room. It had a strange shape window, a bit like that house in Amityville; I always loved that film; the truth behind it scared me beyond my years. I was interviewed by Evelyn and Roger, both of them, my line managers at one stage; two genuinely wonderful people, who I respect, over and above anyone, I ever worked with since. They had there own stories to tell, battles they fought, but both with so much love for those who worked with them, it was humbling; true Oxfam Managers, who were there to help others, including their teams, without any ulterior motives.

I hadn't had an interview in a while, so assessing how well it went, or not, was difficult. I just remember thinking, what great people they would be to work for; I actually enjoyed speaking to both of them, they were open and receptive and that always helps to put any candidate at ease. It was boiling hot, I was wearing a suit and was sweating; I hate sweating at the best of times, but in an interview, it just made me more anxious and annoyed. On leaving Eastleigh Bookshop, I kicked myself, thinking, they were probably instantly put off, by this sweaty mess in front of them; I convinced myself, the job was not for me and left!

I received a call shortly afterwards, from Evelyn; she was a cheerful, happy and uplifting Lady, who I adored. I had got the job. They believed I was the right person for the position; for someone like me, who had gradually set my expectations lower, the more failures I experienced, it was an achievement, unmatched. It was my dream job and I was working with people I thought were great; on top of this I was working for a charity, making money for good causes; I could not be happier!

Evelyn was my Manager for a short while, followed by Roger, for about two years; this was a happy and productive time for me. I worked long hours, over and above what was expected, but I did not care; it was about proving to myself and others that I had integrity and what it takes to be successful. I loved my shop and the large number of volunteers who worked with me; true, selfless people, who gave up their time for nothing, to help me, and the causes Oxfam championed; people who were happy to go to work and loved what they were doing. The atmosphere was always happy; we all worked together as a team and the results showed; income was rising.

I was encouraged to apply for 'Aspire', a scheme designed to allow Managers to fast track their way to the career they desired; those who were able and capable of achieving their goals, with the abilities and desire to succeed quickly. I also decided to do an NVQ, off my own back, encouraging my Deputy Manager at the time, Leo, to join me. We worked well together and I was experiencing new and exciting opportunities each and everyday; successful times, growing numbers of volunteers, and above all encouragement and motivation. Roger would come to my shop as often as he could, weekly in the main. He would take me to conferences, ask me to help him with various projects, meetings and plans and I was given the utmost respect, as I always gave to him.

In 2010, Roger left; he was retiring; a big loss for me. He was everything I would have loved to have been; I looked up to him, admired his character and found him a true gentleman, in every respect. He pushed me ever onwards and was an asset to Oxfam and those who worked in our region; he deserved a happy and successful retirement.

Our new Area Manager was Veronica; she was middle aged, at the time, approachable, a bit dowdy and terribly interested in me and strangely my life. This was unusual for me, as I was only used to a Business relationship; at first I was unsure what to make of her approach, but accepted it was her Management style and we became close working colleagues.

I saw less of Veronica than Roger, which for me at the time, showed she had confidence in my abilities as a Manager and did not question her motives, why would I? I hardly knew her but like most people gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was difficult to track down at times; Roger always produced a monthly diary, which he would send to his Managers, so we knew where he was and was easily contactable; Veronica said it would not be her way of doing things. It made everyone's job harder, but we accepted it.

Everyone began to see less and less of Veronica, less than I felt was necessary, to provide each shop with the motivational, inspirational and appropriate help they needed to continue their successful endeavours; for the first time Volunteers didn't see my Manager, they did not know her name, indeed who she was. I am really not sure why a Manager would think it right and proper to distance themselves from those who essentially kept Oxfam the success it was, but what could I do. Management styles were always different, this was just one I had never experienced before. I didn't like it or approve of her ways; it was alien to me. She did however show herself now and again, so as a shop we continued doing what we did best, 'Making Poverty History'!

My responsibility as a Manager was changing; Income was slipping; there was constant change in our shop, as we tried to find out the factors behind decline. Veronica remained aloof from the shop floor and I began to take on more and more responsibility. At first I was happy to do this. I was helping Oxfam and able to broaden my knowledge and experience.

Veronica was also changing. I expressed concern for my shop and asked for help in finding solutions to problematic areas; she was not forthcoming. She told me things were fine; they were not and I knew it, the volunteers knew it and customers were well aware of the issues surrounding our Bookshop, but she ignored them. Her only reaction to falling income was to encourage me to take on more responsibility as a Manager, to justify my salary. I agreed and this was the first time, I began to fear for the shop itself, my position and failing health. I had to do it, to protect myself, my shop and the ideals of volunteers and Oxfam. There was a huge amount of pressure on me, but with the help of my new Deputy, we would get through these times, until income began to pick up again.

I was always a positive person, I had to be; after the turmoil in my life, I had to look beyond current situations towards the future. Depression had turned into Bipolar, my health was slipping ever further, but I would get through it, I was strong and my team were dedicated, now all I needed was more support from Veronica; how could she refuse?

I was confronted by Veronica at a meeting with Human Resources, after a series of messages from one of my volunteers expressing concern about myself. She had been liaising with him on a regular basis; my medical condition was disclosed and most hurtfully and disturbingly a suicide attempt talked about behind my back; I was horrified. Accusations were being made about me, which were untrue or had nothing to do with my position at Oxfam; I was shattered by the whole experience.

I had tried to commit suicide; the lack of support at work and resulting, faltering relationship was becoming an issue and I felt I had no other option. I took around a hundred pills and had made peace with myself; I wanted to leave this life, it was the end for me and I had accepted that. It was the hardest thing I have ever done, born of neglect, failure and lack of support; with a bipolar diagnosis under my belt, I felt Darrell would be better off without me.

As I laid on the sofa in our lounge, tears rolling down my face, I knew this was the end; my eyes closed and the next thing I saw was something I shall never forget until my dying day. I was flying above green fields, full of beautiful technicolour flowers. I could smell the air, the blooming colour and the fresh blue sky; it was peaceful and quiet, just a few birds singing; I felt relaxed and happy. Suddenly I saw a familiar face, it was Darrell; I tried to reach out to him, but he was gone. Then, just as quickly I saw more faces, a bit like a camera roll, flashing before my very eyes; everyone was alive. I just remember trying to grab hold of each one; I just could not quite do it. I was scared and had no idea what was happening and just wanted it to stop. Then a tunnel, just a tunnel, no light at the end, just a dark endless tunnel; finally I knew what was happening. This was the end of my life; this was finality and closure, the end of everything. It was the most traumatic thing I had ever experienced and I was truly dying.

I was awoken by Sara; from the corner of my eyes, I could see the mayhem surrounding me. I wanted to go back; this was not how it was supposed to be. I wanted to be dead and I wasn't; Sara, dear Sara had saved my life; ushered into an ambulance I was taken to Hospital. I must have passed out again, although I believe my airway had collapsed in the Ambulance; the blue lights came on and they got me to A&E as quick as possible. Sara said afterwards, making me smile, how terribly important she felt as those lights switched on; the traffic seemed to zoom past the ambulance, ever quicker as they tried to save my life. Thanks to Sara I am here today.; another memory that will live with me forever.

I don't remember much about the meeting with Veronica and Beth, accept, I was distressed. I had just survived a suicide attempt and now my whole life was being thrown into question. I remember Beth saying her sister had Bipolar, so she totally understood what was happening with my health issues; Veronica said very little; she was cold and emotionless. I was not understanding this massive sea change in my boss, she was not who I believed her to be; she was becoming less and less recognisable as time moved on. Deflated, emotional and shocked I went back to my shop, more depressed than ever.

The following eighteen months, can only be described as degeneration and shocking neglect. During these months I saw Veronica so little I was concerned; she had taken my Deputy Manager from me, to drive a van for her, because she wouldn’t pay for a driver to be employed. He felt pressured into it, at first accepting an unpaid role, telling me on numerous occasions how much he hated the job. This was also the first time he had expressed concern about Veronica as a Manager. He felt intimidated and bullied by her; there was no trust and an inability to offer support.

My partner was also working for Oxfam at this time, having been offered the position as Furniture Shop Manager; he was so happy to have a job, that meant something to him. He had been going through a rough time in his previous role and felt he had now achieved something he had always wanted. He also became close to Veronica; he had no family in the UK, my family were unable to offer the bonds he needed and Veronica seemed interested in him as a person. He was able to talk to her about subjects, that as a rule, only close family and friends were there for. I found this a little strange and totally unprofessional on her part, but knew he needed someone to talk too. My concern centred around, just how long she would be there for him, based on previous experience but I accepted, it was helping him at a difficult time.

As my health continued to falter, so did Ian's, my old Deputy Manager. I expressed concerns for his Health and Safety to Veronica, asked for help in my shop, expressed my fears for depression and all the time took on more and more responsibility, as shop income continued to fall; there was no help forthcoming, and I felt more and more isolated. Ian's health was now becoming of great concern for me; Veronica was his line Manager, yet he could not speak to her. She was a bully, offered no empathy and was increasing his work load more and more; he was a shell of his former self, in need of help, denied by Veronica. Again and again I expressed my concerns, along with other employees, within my remit. We had real fears for his welfare; still nothing was done.

Ian resigned shortly afterwards, giving me his resignation in tears. When I told Veronica, she tried to make him resign with immediate effect. This seemed odd, since he had been signed off sick; I told him not too and he duly followed my advice. She seemed angry at this, but Ian was my concern, not her.

There was another suicide attempt; I could not get any help from Veronica at all. My life was collapsing around my eyes and I had reached another low point. A friend was once again there for me, and saved my life; on this occasion I walked out of Hospital before assessment. I have no idea how I got home, but I was woken up at 3am by the Police, breaking into my house. They had a duty of care to preserve my life and had been searching for me around the Hospital grounds. I spent four hours with Police and Doctors coming in and out of my house, assessing whether I was fit and of sound mind, to make a decision about my own health.

During the last months in situ as Manager, things got dramatically worse. An altercation between myself and another Manager and the resulting dismissal of events by Veronica caused a complete Bipolar Relapse and I was arrested in the Easter of 2015, after trying to take my own life once again. On release, I was charged into the care of my partner and heavily sedated. I don't really remember the next few months, but they were most distressing for all concerned; for that I am truly sorry.

Since these events, my partner has been signed off sick from Oxfam, after a series of bullying attacks and events I can only describe as disgusting, using language and untruths I am still in shock about today. His health has deteriorated rapidly and he is now heavily medicated. We both continue to experience horrendous anonymous phone calls from those who seek to bully us.

My health collapsed further over the last six months, as I was left unmedicated, experiencing mental illness in its full unrelenting glory; rapid Cycling Mixed State Bipolar, severe head pain, Post Traumatic Stress and isolation. An illness left to fend for itself and a complete reluctance by Oxfam to admit responsibility.

Both myself and my partner are going through a grievance process as part of the shocking and shameful incidents, neglect, lack of safeguards and brutality we went through. The process has been so strung out, that we just continue to deteriorate. Darrell is also suffering from Post Traumatic Stress; he is a shell of his former self. It destroys me inside to watch him like this, but we are helpless.

Other Managers in our region continue to suffer bullying and harassment, more grievance procedures are flowing in; further isolation, lies, so many lies are being told and Managers are walking out, yet those responsible are sill in post. It is the most disturbing set of events I have ever been witness too. My health, my partners, my relapse my suicides, all as a result of one woman's sick desire for power and control; a bully, at the very least; a sociopath in name, left in charge of twenty Managers and seven hundred volunteers; unchecked, relentless and has absolutely no shame.

This chapter will end, when we have left The UK, on medical and legal advice, after our marriage in September. We are left penniless, careerless, ill and having to leave our home of twenty five years, all because of the unhinged nature of an individual, who works for the biggest charity in the Country, and has done so for fifteen years. She is known to be a bully and has been put in charge of vulnerable people; she has no morals, gives no support or has no sense of what is right or wrong; she has no conscience at all. Peoples lives are at risk, disregard for human dignity and contempt for homosexuals, mental illness and those more vulnerable, are now the causes Oxfam champions.

YES A CHARITY, The charity I loved and was devoted too. For what? A bully to be allowed to run riot over my life!

This is me today, broken, ill and at the end of my life here in The UK!

---

---