The trauma of employment

It’s been 7 years since I was last employed. Yet here I am, awake late at night with my mind swirling bitterly over the recurring memories of those times. I’m still so deeply haunted by my corporate past.

“It’s just a job”, you’re probably thinking. But it was never just a job for me. I grew up in a minimally educated, self-employed household of tradespeople. The first person in my family to go to university. I always had it drummed into me that I was the intelligent one. That I could do anything I wanted and will go far in life. That I shouldn’t waste time being self employed. That I should go and make something of myself.

So I did. Kinda…

I was on a great trajectory. One summer, I took a temp job for a Sunday Times top 10 companies to work for. I threw myself in, did well, and before the summer closed, they’d offered me a job in HR and convinced me to drop out of uni. They’d promised me the world, and even my uni professors told me to go for it. So I did.

I loved that job. It became part of me. And even though they didn’t deliver on their worldly promises, I stuffed my disappointment down and soldiered on. That place felt like home to me. It was everything I’d been dreaming of since I picked Travel & Tourism for my GCSE’s in year 9! Some even joked that if I cut off my arms, I’d bleed little M’s (the logo of the company). I was fully immersed, perhaps even a little brain washed. But I didn’t care. I loved it.

Until I didn’t.

During the 2008 recession, my Dad came to work with me. Then my Mum. Their businesses were suffering and we had vacancies. It went from feeling like home to literally being my family. They were the golden times. It was a true blessing for me, as my brother had always worked for the family business, and I often felt somewhat left out. Now I had my turn, too.

In 2011 my Dad got diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, and things just became unbearable. Work was already tough with redundancies and increased workload, and then I constantly had people (kindly) asking “How’s your Dad doing?”. I just couldn’t take it. I had to leave. It was all too much.

And that was when the real problems began…

I could never settle. Nothing ever compared to the company and role I had loved so much. And the crazy thing was, I never even realised how much I had ‘become’ that role until I’d left it. I’d often seen people leave and come back a year or two later. It always baffled me. We were so under paid, yet people just kept returning. But once I’d left, despite the pay increase of working elsewhere, I truly started to understand the value of what I’d had.

So I job hopped. Every year or two, I’d get fed up, frustrated or just plain bored. And I’d move on. No role satiated me in the same way. Don’t get me wrong, I had some wonderful experiences with some incredible companies, and enjoyed some major perks. But nothing ever felt like home. Until this one company…

I’d landed a role with a relatively local chain in their head office. The job description looked great and I really loved the manager. Aside from that, I really didn’t have much expectation. But when I started, I quickly felt like I’d found my people. I was doing good work, enjoyed the company values and was having a bloody good giggle. Sometimes a little too much giggling, as the glares across an otherwise quiet office would suggest. But still, the job felt like a fit. I could feel that sense of home again.

Sadly, within a year things had quickly soured. Management had changed and I started to become the face that didn’t fit anymore. I was doing amazing work, but was constantly being put down and micromanaged. Rather than allowing my confidence to be knocked, I went the other way. I became outspoken. I got bullied enough at school, I wasn’t going to let it happen at work too! But I just got seen as the problem. The more I wasn’t listened to, the louder I got. Until the workplace became completely untenable. Even to the point where they weren’t permitting me the flexibility required to adhere to the adoption process. I was forced to raise a grievance, that was handled incredibly poorly. And I ended up packing up my desk and walking out on the spot.

My head was fucked and my heart was broken. The toll this took on me was immeasurable. It’s been 8 years since this happened, and I’m still awake at night thinking about it now. I still question what actually happened. Where did it all go wrong? Was it just a set of shitty circumstances? Was it a toxic environment? Was it a lunatic manager? Or was it just me? Or maybe a bit of everything?

What I do know is that it literally drove me insane. I wasn’t myself, yet I was completely myself at the same time. It drove me off a cliff, but it also solidified my mission to go self employed. It taught me everything that I never want in my life again. It constantly reminds me to keep going, keep pushing and keep trying as hard as I damn can to keep my life on my own terms. To never have to go ‘back there’ again. The fear and shame that still resides within me is my biggest motivation and my biggest achievement.

I may not have handled it perfectly, but I’d do it the same all over again. In fact, I’d probably do it all over again but even louder! Maybe even take them to tribunal 😂 Because places like this and people like this need more of the little guys to stand up, shout loudly and shout proudly. A job should not still be keeping you awake at night 8 years later.

So despite my parent’s best effort, being self employed was inevitable for me. I couldn’t find my ‘home’ again, so I just decided to create it myself! And while I still look back and wonder what could have been, I also look back and feel incredibly grateful that it was never meant to be. Sometimes the scars are truly worth it in the end.

Now, I must get to sleep…💤