… one giant leap for his mental health.
In the SCA, I’ve taken on the position of Event Support Services Coordinator for the region I live in (Texas and Oklahoma). This is a new position that I’m developing from the ground up, with practically everything involved with it a new function of our organization. While I came up with what I feel is an excellent proposal for this position, I first presented it at a time when I had a lot of energy for this job. The proposal was accepted almost a year later when I didn’t have much energy and still am struggling with daily tasks. So the end result is that I haven’t accomplished much, and had to report that to my boss.
The issue here is that my PTSD is highly triggered by reporting any sort of shortcoming or failure on my part to a person in a position of authority to me. I freeze, I get panicky, I lock up. It explains why I don’t have the most stellar employment history – I become so paranoid that I’ve screwed up to the point of being fired that I make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.
So it took me the better part of a week to come to the person I report to – I can’t really call him my boss, although he is the one that “hired” me to the position – and tell him that I haven’t managed to accomplish much this quarter. My health hasn’t allowed me to concentrate on the position to the point that it deserves, and admitting that was the hardest thing I’ve had to do all week. Even now, knowing that he’s okay with it and prioritizes my health over the office, I’m still panicky about having to admit I’ve fallen short.
But I didn’t check with him to see if I’ve fallen short in HIS eyes – only mine. I’m kicking myself for having to report that I haven’t lived up to my own standard for my potential. And making THAT realization is a big step.
I’m slowly calming down now. Things are returning to normal, and starting tomorrow I’ll be setting aside a little bit of time every day to accomplish something on the office. It’s a new part of my checklist, and it’s an important one. It starts showing me that I’m capable of doing a task for others instead of myself for a change.
In short, mental illness sucks, and there are days that I wish I didn’t suffer from a litany of them. Today is one of them.