Psyche Killer

With the constant influx of attention - grabbing news stories circulating every day, I feel compelled to share my own humble tale - one that may not be flashy or particularly captivating, but is undeniably mine.

The story begins with a new chapter in my life - my last significant job change. While this experience may sound familiar if you follow my articles, I've noticed a disconnect between my subscription numbers and actual readership. I attribute this to my reluctance to delve into politics, a topic that often garners more attention. Perhaps, therefore, my audience seems to dwindle.

The challenges at my last work mirrored a personal breakdown I previously faced within my family, leaving me feeling isolated and overlooked. While others received support and recognition, I found myself on a solitary path, seeking guidance. Faced with this situation, I took matters into my own hands and navigate the journey independently.

No training? Fine. I will train myself. Better still. I will train myself for free using opportunities available to me, so the argument of “we can’t train everyone because of money” is irrelevant. Besides, as I found out later, further training included half an hour video, which management unjustly deprived me of. It's challenging when aiming to empower all 16-year-olds to succeed in life. Despite no longer being 16 myself, nobody has ever treated me according to my age, even when I was that age. All of this disappointment came from a company that boasted about investing in people and having a badge to prove it. After some time, I realized that this was only true for "certain people" who either flattered their superiors or were young, unlike me. I ended up being a subject of narcissistic abuse within the company.

Initially, it was a minor issue. Those small actions they took that made my life a nightmare. For instance, altering the dates of my vacation without informing me, leaving me feeling foolish and disoriented upon my return. The excuse? A system update that jumbled up everyone's schedules. It just sounded unbelievable. Fortunately, I had evidence of the correct dates on my own, since they never provided me with a written confirmation. Their supposedly secure computer storage, however, still posed a risk to me. This occurred after a month of searching for replacements for my shifts and enduring threats that the changes might not even take place, despite already being confirmed by the individuals who had agreed to the alterations.

Then management dared to change my diagnosis from twenty years back to a more serious illness. I prefer not to disclose the exact details, but it was devastating to learn about it, especially when the Head of Human Resources mistakenly misstated it in an official letter. I only shared my diagnosis because of night shifts, which I later realized was not mandatory. Despite the option to remain silent, I opened up because of the stressful work environment. Unfortunately, instead of support, I faced ridicule, humiliation, judgment, and unfair treatment from management and directors of the company.

Feeling overwhelmed by these negative experiences, I filed two grievances, which only resulted in further embarrassment and legal jargon. Even someone with self-expertise in psychology, like myself, found it unbearable.

I came across many mistakes that a kind Mental Health First Aider helped me identify to gather information from me. It seemed like that was their approach. I ended up crying, unable to complete my shifts, even while working from home and avoiding interactions with others. At this stage, I would have welcomed any interaction, but the equipment for working from home and the anxiety triggered by the noisy surroundings near my home amplified the challenge.

After a while, I had an epiphany. I decided to further my education. It was crucial for me to understand what was going on with myself and with the world around me. Initially, Caroline Strawson's insights were invaluable. Growing up with narcissistic parents, it made complete sense that I found myself in a job environment that was also narcissistic and driven by goals. Subsequently, I took two mental health courses that taught me how to manage panic attacks and emotional dysregulation, affecting me physically to the point of great pains in my entire body. Despite my visible struggles over the course of a year, I persevered, prioritizing physical survival (income) over mental well-being.

After a year of struggling mentally, visible to all involved, management finally provided me with training. However, at that point, I couldn't even make it to the training sessions as many complaints calls constantly interrupted me, despite not being part of the complaints department. Calls were being routed based on the workers' skills, leaving me free to handle them while others focused on more significant tasks. It was a simple yet frustrating situation. Supervisors were also busy whenever I needed help, making me wait up to half an hour to speak with someone. It seemed like no one cared that this happened every single night, with no sign of balance in sight regarding the regular calls I was supposed to handle after training.

When the additional training at the call center didn't prove successful, management transferred me to another quieter office. It was at this point that my suicidal thoughts resurfaced. I had struggled with them in the past, but when they became intertwined with anger, the intensity was overwhelming. Adding to my distress was the fact that I had developed feelings for the Mental Health First Aider, who conveyed important information to higher-ups, despite their incompetence. Being isolated from familiar faces and surrounded by female colleagues who seemed to be against me mentally in the new office led to a rapid deterioration in my mental state after just one day. I attempted to return to work after a day off, but I couldn't bear it any longer. The sense of being ignored, the embarrassment, and the feeling of despair were all too much to handle. It was ironic how I, whose job involved comforting customers in distress after breakdowns in dangerous locations, now felt like one of those distressed customers.

I don’t think I will ever go back to working a so-called "normal" job. The amount of shame I have endured over the past few years is beyond imagination, even for someone like me who considers themselves quite strong. However, strength was not enough. I aspire to complete my psychological master's studies, which I began during my mental struggles, and pursue a career in the field. Alternatively, I hope to publish my books, whichever opportunity arises first or perhaps even simultaneously. The reason I have survived is quite simple: I am a writer at heart. Writing has been my outlet during times of suffering, allowing me to pour my emotions onto the page. Every experience, every tear shed, every emotion, whether good or bad, has found its place in my books. My fiction is like a diary, reflecting my life experiences. There is a strong connection between me and my characters; we coexist, sharing laughter, dreams, and tears. All of this is leading towards a greater purpose yet to be discovered. Before others can believe in me, I must first believe in myself.

My perspective has shifted. While I may not always see the purpose in everything, I have seen a glimmer of hope at the end of this tunnel. It's astonishing how being fully aware of your situation and life can bring about such a change.

---

Thank you for reading!