So what exactly happened after I moved my office, again? What happened leading up to my resignation? What am I doing now?
So what exactly happened after I moved my office, again?
Honest opinion? I loved the cosmetics of everything. I had a BIGGER office than my last one. Despite my hectic schedule, I had my husband come up and hang up a few of my things to make me feel at home. I had my diffuser going, my noise machine drowning out any distractions, the ambiance was great. This was my second move in three months. The appointments didn’t stop. I had to relocate to a different building and bring my 3 file cabinets worth of files with me (not pictured). I was booked too far in advance to block out time to get settled, and my guilt would kick in for rescheduling appointments. After all, I had began to get sick again, and kept having to take off for doctor’s appointments.
The other counselors from other departments were super nice. We were assistant-less, which is CRAY for a job like this…but we ended up getting someone part-time to assist with the calls, appointment scheduling etc. Like I said, I’m used to being a one-stop-shop kinda gal from working at my last job. I still tell myself “I COULD’VE DONE ALL OF IT IF I HAD THE TIME.” If I had the time to take care of my own stuff, I think I would’ve been alright? IDK. NEXT QUESTION.
What happened leading up to my resignation?
Okay, so this is a touchy one. I remember talking to my new supervisor about my disabilities. I explained to her that our department was swamped and that the move wasn’t my main concern. I gave her a data table of the clients we saw in the past year to show her that we were pretty much ‘poppin,’ all-year around, and how we were trying our best to see everyone in very little time. I explained to her how I was trying very hard, but if the changes were going to be made that we would need more help (perhaps another counselor for our department). I sensed that she was in defense-mode during our meeting, but so was I. I still fight myself about whether I handled the situation correctly or not, but the truth is: I had gotten a call from the another counselor about the changes that were coming to me and my department. So everyone knew about my changes before me. My supervisor thought she was giving me news, but it was really old news. My new supervisor assured me that all of the counselors would be meeting in 2 weeks to discuss the changes, which gave me some hope.
I was still worried. I’d go home and stare in to space. I wouldn’t eat, sometimes I wouldn’t sleep. The anxiousness in me was now out of control. I waited those two weeks. I conversed with my new supervisor several times in the meantime and I decided to schedule an appointment with HR to see where I stood. I spoke to them about my accommodations and how I was still able to keep a few of them, but removing the assistant was actually contributing to the problem that we were already short staffed. They told me to work a couple of weeks with the accommodations I was able to keep and then schedule another appointment so that we can speak to my new supervisor about “what else” I would need. I remember the moment they asked who my new supervisor was. She was someone who was really “high up” in the organization, which probably explains why HR had a “hands-off” kinda vibe with me once I mentioned her name.
Three weeks passed.
A meeting was called, but to discuss something totally different.
Four weeks passed.
I could’ve reached out to my new supervisor about my concerns…but after my first encounter with her (in which we were BOTH defensive), the vibe I got from HR, and the vibes I would get when we were having a meeting, but not discussing what was “supposed to be discussed,” I decided to take a knee.
Maybe I should’ve just taken a chill pill. This is what I get for “standing up for myself.” I shouldn’t have said anything. Why did I tell her about my disabilities without HR being present?? What was I thinking? I don’t want to go through this process with her, I have a bad feeling about all of this.
…and my health reflected that feeling. When I get “sick,” my body aches, I stop eating, sometimes I stop sleeping. My anxiousness triggers the “sick,” and the depression usually follows. Why can’t I just eat? Why can’t I just sleep? Why am I so worried about this job? This is not my life. My clients need to be taken care of and I’m functioning on 40%. I need to go to the doctor, but that would involve me canceling [Insert Client’s Name Here]’s appointment. I’ve had to cancel on them several times already. Where is the help? The clients can see the other counselors from other departments, BUT they are not trained on what our clients needs are.
26 Unread Emails
3 Messages Taken By Phone
38 Unread Emails
5 Messages Taken By Phone
Orientation Coming Up
Data of Clients Seen, Due to Supervisor
Nursing Department Requesting Training Sessions from Me
A week later, I was in the Emergency Room, but sent home the same night.
Five days after that, I was back in the Emergency Room…then admitted and kept for five days–which is a story for another day.
What am I doing now?
I’m home now resting and recovering. I’m unemployed, and happy; I still have my dignity. I took a break from social media. I took a break from blogging.
I miss my job because I had a purpose to be there. I was helping my clients and being the advocate they needed. I try not to look at it as a failure and more as a wake up call. I had stopped taking care of myself and I was out there trying to serve on an empty vessel.
Now, I’m thinking twice before I apply for jobs. I’m asking myself different questions.
Does this job have good work/life balance?
Were people smiling when I walked in?
Does anyone look like they are scrambling and overworked, while others are not?
My husband and family have been super supportive of my choice to resign, (it was actually their idea.) I used my last two weeks of FMLA as my resignation to avoid putting myself back in that environment.
One piece of advice I can take from this experience?
Self-care comes first, the rest can wait.
Thank you for reading.
When Your Brain Hurts