A couple of weeks ago, I was at a college group at which the following question was posed: Would you rather get blamed for something bad that someone else did, or have someone else get the credit for something good that you did?

There were a lot of different answers or thoughts during that discussion. The gist of my own answer is that it doesn't tend to bother me too much if someone else gets the credit for something good I do. Indeed, I'd often rather that than the action go unnoticed completely. I'm capable of tooting my own horn when I have any desire to, might I add, sometimes even to my own shame. But for the most part, I really don't mind if someone else gets the credit, because MOST of the time, I am doing it for the good of the action, the well-being of the recipient, the glory of God. Not for my own credit and pride.

On the other hand, getting blamed for something someone else did, or worse, for something that didn't happen at all or that is wrong to one person and not to another.. that is painful to me, still. It's one thing to have someone start a rumor about you, many of which I'm quite familiar with. Being that I'm still a virgin and thus obviously have never been pregnant, the rumors about supposed pregnancies never bothered me much. They were so absurd that I didn't care, because anyone who knew me at all wouldn't believe them. Rumors about more believable things, if they weren't true, even tended not to bother me as much because I knew if they were true or not, and the people who mattered to me would believe me or they wouldn't, and what stance they took said a lot about how they saw me and where they belonged in my life.

When it's your boss, though, who is instigating or spreading rumors about you, or who is harassing you with them, it's more difficult. Much, much more difficult.

This week has been one of the hardest in my life. Longer-lasting than that wretched last week in Mississippi and the verbal spillage there that caused me a great amount of discomfort. This week isn't about me speaking out of turn and getting in trouble halfway because of misinformation and unfortunate circumstances but also half because of my own lack of tact and wisdom, the way that my last week in MS was. This week is about misinformation and unfortunate circumstances building up and one of the people over me balling them up into one great big ball-and-chain and running with it, dragging me along like some windless kite.

If this doesn't stop soon, you can believe that this is not a Navy of which I can be a part.

Forget if. This MUST stop soon. Every single day during and after work, I have given up hope because usually that makes the whole thing easier. And then the next day she yells at me about something else and finds whatever little shred of hope remained enough to be broken. And then some other circumstance happens to make things worse.

This weekend, when I was supposed to work to make up for the car fiasco of last weekend (and that's a whole 'nother story which I won't get into here, both the car fiasco itself and having to work to make up for it), my body could finally no longer resist the stomach virus that's been going around the base, that I've had for at least a week now and have been so entrenched in the troubles at work that I did not ask to go to medical about it because I hoped I could wait 'till Monday, wait 'till my day off, and then go and rest. But it would not wait. Saturday morning I was violently ill (as I had been all of Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, but had gotten well enough to make it to work by the time that came into question -- and with a darn good looking uniform and as decent an attitude as could be mustered on the first day back after the fiasco, mind you) well into the time it would take to get ready. So I called to tell them I'd be a bit late. When I was still violently ill an hour later, it was time to go to the hospital. Not only did the person at work I had spoken with tell the one above her that I said I couldn't get out of BED (when what I had said clearly was that I couldn't get out of the BATHROOM, but this is not the first time I've had such trouble with this particular female), but my new roommate had been asleep during the whole process and thus, when she was awoken at 8:30 to give an accounting of my whereabouts and actions of the morning, had told them what she thought had happened which was entirely different than what had happened.. (That's what I get for being a quiet and curteous roommate. Again, just an unfortunate circumstance.. my roommate intended absolutely no harm and would have told them exactly what had happened had she been aware of it. But because she wasn't and she told them what she did know, they accused HER of lying as well as me.) Anyway.. then I'm at the hospital and I'm tracked down there to be harassed about all manner of things while I'm waiting to be admitted in the ER. By this point, I'm severely dehydrated, still getting violently ill fairly often, and in the grips of nasty, nasty stomach pains that won't let up.

Along with the absurdity of pregnancy rumors, rumors about me using drugs or such have never bothered me. I drink in moderation, and use prescription or over-the-counter drugs in very extreme moderation.. that is, one 200 mg ibuprofen was sufficient enough for the worst of my headaches for a long time, and even after the pharmacy-that-is-bootcamp, I still only use them on an absolutely-as-needed basis and as rarely and minimally as possible. Apart from that, I have never even been tempted to do any illegal drugs or to abuse scrips or otc's, nor even to smoke a cigarette. Ok, yes, I've been a little jealous of how smokers get more breaks than non-smokers, and how smoker's breaks actually seem to calm them down sometimes (despite the fact that they were more jittery before any break than I'd get at any point of my worst days), but never really tempted. And I've been around drugs of all sorts plenty enough that if ever there was the temptation, there would have been the means, mind you. I have not been sheltered from the world of hiding-one's-pain-in-substance-abuse in the slightest bit. So the rumors never bothered me. Anyone who knew me would know they weren't true.

But accusations.. accusations are not rumors. And being accused outright (or by means of very explicit implication) of drug usage and alcohol abuse several times this week..

Oh, no, Nelly.. you do not know what you do at all.

And it has occured to me, yes, that some of this might be about others that I work with more than myself.. but normally if that was the case, (a) the accusations would not have taken place in private, some of them, and (b) there would have been SOME hint to that effect dropped during the private batterin- er.. I mean, conversations.

And it has occured to me (through my own deductions as well as others pointing it out) that some of this might have something to do with my potential advancement, with seeing how I handle situations or with trying to make absolutely sure that I'm clean before I'm given more power. And some of it might have to do with the fact that I requested to move off base, and some people who have moved off of this base have not stayed clean once they got free of the base lifestyle.

I wish that once I had had a civil conversation with the powers that be in which I could explain that I have been living on my own since the young sailors mentioned were in middle school, that I have been around drugs before and never been tempted nor would I give in if the temptation arose, and that I financially and in all other necessary ways can handle myself just fine living on my own -- while on the contrary, I am at an extreme disadvantage in all of those areas for as long as I remain on base. But no, they had conversations with others, with some of the ones that were in middle school when I began living on my own, or with people whose spending habits, shall we say, vary greatly from mine.

Honestly, this whole situation has made me very sad, very frustrated. I am a different person at work these days, not smiling much and not energized, and doing a darn good job but not with the same gusto as before. I am watching the dirtbags in my command get treated with the same respect and dignity as always while I am being dragged down and made absolutely miserable.

The stomach virus, surely, was worse because of the stress of this situation. My recovery from it, surely, will be slower. My health is suffering in other ways. And unfortunately, the ways of dealing with that are either making the situation go away -- and it shows no signs of doing that anytime soon -- or things like seeking counseling, which is available during working hours and thus I'd have to get permission to leave work in order to go, and the whole thing is just a big mess. Grr. Argh.

Had I not been sick this weekend, I would have worked then and had today and tomorrow off. (As it was, I was laid up in my rack the entire time except finally getting up later yesterday evening to do my laundry.) Unfortunately, I'm now the early-come-late-stayer for today and tomorrow and thus will not have any time (or energy) outside of working hours to get any of that done. Likewise the rest of this week. I've got to clean the whole office every day Wednesday through Friday, among other dumb little things that can have no purpose other than to aggrivate me and make me certain, beyond any possible doubt, not only of who is in control, but of exactly how much control they can have .. mostly in the sense of fear of taking it up the chain of command.

The military is not like the Civilian world, no. And while a couple of weeks ago, even last weekend when I was on my trip, I was selling people on it to the point they were almost ready to join themselves -- I could not recommend it for anyone that has their own work ethic (it seems easier for dirtbags, especially those not as concerned with promotion) or who is not already accustomed to military ways of life and logic-less systems.

I hope that in another week, I will be able to offer some retrospective look on why all of this happened and that it's not really so bad.. I am not so optimistic, though.

I watched Shawshank Redemption on Saturday, and that helped me feel a lot better. Perhaps I will pick up my own rock hammer somewhere.