"It's was about discovering my true value, and in finding that,I found my Voice. - April Adams Pertuis
There have been a whole bunch of sams in my career. I call them Sams, named after the original Sam who entered my life while I was making my way Through journalism schools.
Sam was a student in the broadcasting program where I was enrolled. I'm not even sure how we first became friends. I just remember him being a likable guy. He was outgoing and good-looking and others seemed to like him as well.
Sam befriended me. We were both go-getters and eager to perform at the top of our class. He complimented me and encouraged me as we dove deep into broadcasting projects like news gathering, video production, and editing. But as time went on, Sam's dark side showed up.
If I was chosen to direct the team or take the spotlight, Sam's claws came out. He'd try to undermine my decisions in an attempt to make me question my ideas. Or he'd give (un) constructive criticism in the guise of trying to help me better.
After a few months of this, I grew tired of Sam. He frustrated me. I struggled to find ways to respond to his remarks without fueling his fire . He had a smooth way of turning the tables on me and making me feel small and helpless. I felt impeded. Silenced. Voiceless. When I looked at him, all I could see was an insurmountable roadblock in my way.
No matter which direction I chose, he'd show up, and I'd have to figure out how to navigate around him. He became an omnipresent figure in my day.
I dreaded walking into journalism department ( a place I had once loved) because I knew he'd be there. The worst was when we were alone, working extra hours on a project; his aggressione was always on display when others weren't around to witness it.
I had never met a guy like Sam before. He was manipulative, undermining,and smooth. He threw me off my game, leaving me feeling incapable in many years. Some days, I'd end up utterly despondent and broken, curled up in tears in my dorm room after class.
Finally, I'd had enough. I realized it was either Sam or my career... and no way in hell was I choosing Sam. I had a really great relationship with the two department heads-two men I greatly respected and admired.
Nervously, I went to them and asked for help. I explained how Sam was causing me stress with his bullying tactics and aggression. I felt disempowered when he was around. I needed someone to intervene . I hadn't learned how to deal with a narcissist in my life yet. I was twenty-three. Sam was my training ground.
Things turned ugly.
Sam was approach about my complaints , and boy oh boy, did he want to make me pay.
It all came to a head one day when a bunch of students, including Sam and me, we're sitting outside the studio after class. Our professor were handing out assignments, delegating roles, in the next newscast we were to produce for the school.
I was assigned a leading role, and Sam was assigned to a supporting role on my team. Almost simultaneously, we both prostested. Sam couldn't stand the thought of me leading him, and I couldn't bear another minute of his vitrol as my teammate.
An argument between the two of us erupted in front of our classmates and our professors. Sam took every complaint of min and twisted and turned it around like pretzek and pointed all blame back on me.
Basically, it was all my fault he was an a**hole.
One of the department heads stepped in. He pointed at Sam and told him he was out of line He could either accept the role and work with me in compliance or remove himself from the show altogether. Sam chose the latter.
By now, I was sick to my stomach. I know he wasn't going away that easily.
After we'd dismissed, I left the building. Sam followed me. From behind, I could hear him calling out my name. "April, stop! Come back here. I want to talk to you!'
I ignored him and kept walking to my car.
His commands got louder and more demanding: "Stop right now. Listen to me!"
No I won't, Sam. I'm done with you! I thought, and I kept walking until I got to my car.
Sam was fast. Before I could open my door all the way, he was there slamming it shut, pinning ne between him and the car.
In my face, he yelled at me. "I said I want to talk to you!"
I don't want to talk to you, Sam. I said what I had to say black there in the studio. I'm done.
I tried to remain calm, but I could feel my slipping. My neck was turning red, and i could feel my throat closing up. The burning feeling of tears hinted on the backside of my eyes.
I wanted to shove him out of my way, but Sam towered over me. He was not small man. He was burly, strong, and physical. His face was red with anger.
Follow for next Chapter 1a
Lead image myTherapyNYC.comThank you for reading.