I’m ill. Not in a physical sense that I’ve got a cold or a fever or worse but ill in the sense that I’ve had enough; given up; am hacked off, depressed, and at the end of my tether.
I’m taking a break from work. After 140 plus days of continuous logging on through days off, bank holidays and leave, I’ve walked away from the rat race to give myself a chance to breathe.
I’ve written a six page letter to my CEO setting out a long list of things, concerns, that I think should be addressed. I will spare you all the details save to say that I feel rather used and dirty, a bit exploited and a little bit, no a lot, undervalued.
Sometimes you just have to do it. Sometimes you either do it or you break and I’ve gone with option one over option two even though, deep inside, I know that option one will probably get me nowhere because, how can I say, past attempts have only led to greater frustration and promises made that were not kept.
I’m tired. Tired of being ignored when I think I could offer good ideas and help for everyone and yet nobody is interested and, because of my role, I’m just expected to be quiet and let my superiors do as they please. Not a chance!
I’m a rebel. Not intentionally in the sense that I’m not advocating a rebellion but rather in the sense that I dislike illogicality and want a clear vision, properly costed, properly thought out and fair to all and if I don’t see it then I’m going to question why not.
Of course that brings me into conflict with those far superior in position to myself for they dislike any questioning of their plans but I can’t just accept something I don’t understand because of the damage it does to myself and the anxiety and pain it causes me. I’m not trying to be awkward but sometimes you just want answers.
And it’s not only me. I know my colleagues won’t rock the boat and I know some of them are genuinely enthusiastic and if they are that’s great and cool..but for them, not me. I need those answers to satisfy myself that the future doesn’t mean more pain for me, more anxiety, more panic attacks or bashing my knuckles into a brick wall. I’m not them, I’m me. And I need those answers in case others forget to ask or would have asked but lacked courage to.
I keep reminding people I’m Autistic and sometimes that’s half the battle, fighting to prove that it’s not one size fits all and allowances have to be made for my unique views because if I’m happy then yay, less chance of me upsetting anyone else. Sadly that message rarely gets through.
My letters in now. 6 pages of observations, questions, pleadings and gently controlled frustration. I don’t know if it will make a scrap of difference, I don’t know if anyone cares enough to not simply dismiss it but hey, you have to stand up sometimes even if you end up being knocked down again.
I’m watching and I’m waiting, not anticipating much, but we will see.