PTSD has made working life extremely difficult. But it's more complex than that. It has triggered not only the previous workplace bullying but layers of childhood trauma that I didn't even know were there until therapy opened that box.
Moving on to a new job with the hope of feeling safe again is a constant challenge. This blog documents my journey from a job I loved, after a mental health crisis, via poetry, written not as a reflection, but in the very moments when the emotion was in its most intense and raw state.
It’s not sunk in yet
Doesn’t feel real
This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me
I was frickin' headhunted!
No
Not real
Definitely a dream
Shy
Mute
Slow
Scared
Crippled by anxiety
Frozen in fear
Last to read
Last to swim
Last to be picked
Least likely to be headhunted
Starting again has been a huge bag of intense and mixed emotions. I have honestly felt so broken that the joy I felt in being headhunted was intertwined with the deep sorrow felt only by one who has carried a great burden for a long journey. Starting again has felt like going into mental rehab. If you've not seen Lord of the Rings to the very end, you might not appreciate the full emotion of this poem.
Frodo’s Sorrow
How does it feel, now you have resigned?
Relief, joy, hope
And yet the deepest sadness I have ever felt.
Turbulent doesn’t even begin
to describe my year
A bumpy road completely minimises
the explosion of molten lava that has erupted my world
A thousand silenced memories
Suppressed in a tightly sealed container
Prised open by opiate-induced force
Bursting through Trauma’s ruptured lid
And taking their first agonising breath
Intense, painful, overwhelming.
Magnified emotions and fragmented memories
Surfacing all at once.
Suppression penetrating a barrier of protection.
The professional shielding the frightened inner child,
two worlds, two faces of one person merging into one explosive mess.
The child emerges from its darkened timeless chamber
Taking its first step into the bright terrifying daylight of now
Emotions paused and trapped in that one horrific moment
Now being replayed on a corrupted loop
Scrutinised, Threatened, hunted
Overwhelmed, drowned, tortured
Trapped, Beaten, Harassed
Emotional flooding
Too intense
Too much
Despair
I want this to stop
I don’t want to be here
Sedate
Numb
Escape
End
I am resigned
I resign
A new job
Hope again
I should be full of joy
and pride for my success
That I am seen as I am
my true self
And yet…
I feel like Frodo
Ending his life abruptly
Prematurely
Realising he is no longer capable of a normal life
Whose journey took a path of anguish and sorrow
Leaving a scar so deep it will never heal
Poisoned by the wound of words burned into this soul
Wearied, restless, wretched.
Yet Frodos Sorrow
at the anguish endured that past year
And his hope to find rest
Hope to restore
To be held tightly as I find myself again
Time and space to heal
A mental rehab of sorts
Lifting my head and finding my voice
Past and present merging into one
As I move forward in my brave new life
Resigning whilst on sick leave brings many challenges. There is no closure when you leave so abruptly. You don't get to mentally prepare for moving on; to wind down your workload, say goodbye, take stock of what you learned and thank the people who inspired you, share your excitement about moving on and for them to share in your joy and hopes.
Instead, I feel like I have left in shame, needing to ask permission to be back in the building for one last smell and sigh as I walk out the door for the last time. I feel like I can't fully move on.
Closure
This abrupt depart
Disrupts the start
Of breathing adventure
And seizing the censure
Of feeling oppressed
And fleeing distress
The stark exposure
Debarks the closure
I need to move on
Believe I have gone
Instead of this shame
This dread, this blame
For failing my role
Derailing my goal
Of being a worker
Not fleeing deserter
A surprising flight
Comprising of fright
But I made a good choice
That gave me a voice
To stand to the bully
Abandon them fully
It’s time to align
With a home that’s designed
To fight for my goal
My right to live whole
Belong and feel safe
No longer disgraced
Accepted at last
True closure can pass
I think I've been surprised at the intensity of sadness I have felt moving on. It should be a happy time. I am worried that I won't be able to shake the distress I have felt and will be stuck in a never-ending cycle of PTSD.
I close for the last time
I close the lid for the last time
Matured eight years like a fine wine
Eight hours of gleaning
The things that held meaning
That I want to preserve
For a while in reserve
A back up of structure
While I deal with the rupture
Of separation angst and grieving
At the moment of my leaving
Let’s not pretend this isn’t the end
Of an era, my dear affirming friend.
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