top of page
Writer's pictureJodee Simpson

Starting a new job but feel like I’m actually going into mental rehab

Updated: Feb 3


If you have seen Lord of the Rings, you will know that Frodo is never the same after his long and treacherous journey into Mordor to destroy the One Ring. He can never quite shake off his grief, loss of his former self and the deep sadness that he feels.

There is something about the intensity of what he is feeling that resonates with me.

I was devastated to leave my last job due to the impact PTSD was having.
I am excited about my new job, a place where psychological safety is a core value. I feel like I am coming home after a long and exhausting trek. But I am worn out from the devastating impact that PTSD has had in the last year and I feel like I am coming home to recover in some sort of mental health rehab. My healing journey is only just beginning and I have a long way to go.

It snowed on the day I left my home to start my new job, and my train was cancelled. Not a great start. My new office was 200 miles away. I was feeling all sorts of emotions but “scared” was not one of them. This change felt right and I was feeling hopeful again that I might finally be able to start to heal.
I wrote this poem sat in the station cafe waiting for the next train to take me to a new beginning. As an autistic person, I find it hard to adapt to change so try to avoid it.

I was dying in my last job. And not just metaphorically.

I am open about the fact that the distress and despair of feeling trapped was making me feel suicidal. It all just felt too much but I had two options. Stay and die, or leave and take my chances in the unknown. I am taking a massive risk leaving a job with amazing sick pay.

I wanted to capture and preserve this moment as I stood at the station, to seal it in a jar with all the sounds and smells and thoughts swirling around and sparkling through the glass. I want to remember what it feels like when change doesn’t feel scary.


Starting over


As I stand here on the snow lined platform

Awaiting the train that will ride from the storm

The anticipation of far better things

My bag is full of the emotion this brings

Adventure disrupted by stormy delay

It feels like my life that was paused in this way

The PTSD threw me off my own track

With forceful derailment, colossal impact

Will I live up to the skills I professed?

Or fall by the trackside, derailed by distress?

Can I accomplish the goals I will set?

Or chug at my own expectations unmet?

My first train now cancelled

I’m starting again

My storm has passed over

And melting to rain

I gather my baggage

I still can’t believe

This carriage will take me

To…


I don't know how to end this poem and I keep coming back to finish it but I honestly don't know how this is going to end, so I've left it blank.
I want it to be greener on this side. I want to feel safe again. I want to feel valued for who I am and what I bring to this team. I want to believe that I will be able to heal, but I honestly don't know if PTSD will let this be possible.
I have always said that my head is the last to know when I'm worried or stressed, my body letting me know instead…

Adrenaline


Heart rushing,

pumping thin blood

around and round and round

Adrenaline surging

through my body all night

Light headed and joints eager to move

Ready to run, ready to fight

Surprised at this unexpected rush of nerves

My head is always the last to know

But my body grasps that this is a big deal


Big day ahead


Sleep deprived

Night survived

Peekaboo

White and blue

Sneaky flare

Fight the glare

Beep alert

High disconcert

Seek to rest

Quite a test

Defeated under

Blighted slumber


I'm now 2 months into my new job and you might be wondering how it's working out. It's complicated. I still have PTSD. I'm still triggered. My first week, I cried every day. Not from regret, but from relief.
Relief to not be teased about sharing research articles I'd read.
Relief when I am thanked for sharing difficult personal experiences instead of awkward stigmatised silence.
Relief when told that they will do everything they can to support me in my recovery and it's ok to have slow days or to cry in the office when I need it.
Relief in the kindness and compassion that is freely given without conditions or passive threats. We are happy to sit with your tears, we acknowledge what you have been through, we don't feel so uncomfortable that we need you to take your tears elsewhere because there is no room for that vulnerability in the workplace. You are accepted as you are, autistic, mental health, you are enough ❤️
 
 

Images: Frodo, taken from fan pages.

Snow-lined platform created with Bing AI.


Subscribe on the home page to see my blogs as soon as they are published.



48 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page