Week One
There is much to unpack from my first week back to work, so I’ll jump right in. I’ll reiterate again, just in case anything from my processing indicates different, my job and company are amazing. They are not perfect, but they are good people with a good mission and I’m beyond grateful to be employed there.
Annnnndd, I was tested on day one, hour 5. Not even a full day under my belt and someone lays their shit in front of me and I begin to step forward to pick it up. “NO!” I shout in my head. “That does not belong to you. That is her stuff."“
So what had happened was, the few days before I went on leave, I was working to get everything in line so that impact to my team wouldn’t be completely overwhelming. My boss and team knew that I had requested time off and the devil was in the details…as he always is. Two weeks prior was when I first mentioned a LOA to HR and my boss was aware that I had had a couple panic attacks while at work, so everyone was in the know as much as possible. I was waiting on my psychiatrist to write the final order stating that she approved my leave from work. Things got real dark on the day I was approved. Like, I was researching which in-pt hospital I would know the least amount of people. This was tricky, y’all. We have 4 main psych hospitals in town and 2 of the 4 were sister hospitals to my last CEO gig. There was no way in hell I was going to either of those locations. I had professional relationships with not only the CEOs, but the intake staff, the social workers and nurses who worked the different units. The 3rd option is a complete shit show, but I also know many of the staff there, too. As I was looking into the 4th option, I got the email from my psychiatrist. Leave was approved. That simple shift in my reality helped tremendously. I laid down to take a nap and cry myself to sleep with relief. I sent one last email and thanked my boss and my team for their support while I took time to care of my mental health.
Ok, back to last week. The bait that was laid in front of me (that I almost took) was in the form of someone feeling frustrated by the way I handled that last day. Well, ex-fucking-scuse me while I try not to hurt myself and you are upset that I left you in a lurch. I took a deep breath and asked that a small amount of understanding and grace be extended; that I really couldn’t help with assigning cases while I was contemplating life. Sorry, not sorry. I don’t know if it landed, and it’s not my job to be sure that it did. My job was to tell my truth and let people have their feelings. Even if I don’t understand them or agree with them.
I fought the tears on that call. We were video conferenced and I didn’t want my eyes to betray me. I was successful at not allowing that emotion to escape, but after I hung up I was mad. Hurt and mad. I called my husband and got out my journal.
“I don’t have to pick up other people’s expectations of me. That is their bag to carry. Not mine.” I may have disappointed some people 9ish weeks ago when I went on leave. I might have frustrated some, too. While that was never my intent, I cannot and will not pick up that bullshit baggage. It’s not mine.
I also got clear on a couple other things that weren’t mine:
your feelings when I start saying no.
your reaction when my boundaries don’t suit you.
your disappointment when I put myself first.