(Almost) The End of The Masquerade

...that bit where the lights start to come up!

On Sunday, I started writing piece about tiredness. As usual I went off on several tangents and so I’ve abandoned it until I have time to dedicate to it again. It touched on so many important topics, I think it deserves that commitment. It also dredged up a lot of uncomfortable truths, which although I am ready to stop holding within me, will require space for big feelings that these next weeks will not afford me.

Since dropping a few hours at work, Fridays are supposed to be my creative day (photography, writing, whatever takes my fancy, and let’s face it, catching up with chores that I cannot manage during the working week), but for the next two weeks I’ve made some changes my schedule, to accommodate for the implementation of a new lab information management system (yep, exciting stuff I know!) so I’ll be working on these Fridays.

I feel several ways about this, and only one of them is good (ish). I volunteered to swap my non-working day so that I could best support the needs of the team. I felt good that I made a choice that is in alignment with my values of community and support. In the time since, I’ve questioned both the wisdom of that choice and the motivation behind it.

The wisdom (or lack thereof) question stems from the fact that I offered up the change of days based on an assumption, and we all know that ‘assume makes an ass out of ‘u’ and me’- Stay tuned to see whether I will be an ass (gibbering wreck) or just fine (hopefully) by the end of the two weeks!

Two weeks in which the open-plan office where I work will be at (dare I say it!) unprecedented levels of stress, chaos, and distraction, as the switchover happens. Then we need to learn how to use the brand-new system properly, as all the snags in it show up. What could go wrong? What part of that could be detrimental to this person with AHDH, still in the slow process of recovery from an extreme burnout, a repeat of which feels like an ever-present threat with each (two day a week) stretch in the office?

Oh, did I mention that the two office days a week (that have felt so terrifyingly close to breaking me for months) is to be at least three for the duration of the switchover? That there was a fight to get even the one day of my reasonable adjustment (two days working from home) to be honoured? Thankfully it is not a fight that I have had to take on myself, but the fact remains that to my mind, it should not even have been called into question, but that’s a whole other tangent.

I’m grateful that my line-manager has been supportive. Having undergone a co-coaching session with me towards the end of last year she is able to understand why this situation is not ideal and worked with me to come up with a proposal which would meet both the needs of the service and myself, but ultimately she is not in charge. Each time I began that sentence with a line about being ‘lucky’, or ‘fortunate’, I felt called to delete it; I am grateful for her, but luck should not be any part of the equation when it comes to being treated with dignity in an inclusive workplace (It should also not be optional for workplaces to be inclusive!).

On to the questionable motivation… Did I truly make a choice that is in alignment with my values. Or did I (unwittingly) offer up my wellbeing as a sacrifice to the mask of which I wrote more in the deferred piece on ‘tiredness’? Was it a subconscious attempt to assuage some of the guilt I feel about the knowledge that I have been spared the absolute worst of the pre-implementation tasks due to my ‘fragile mental state’? A pre-emptive deflection of any (unlikely) accusations of insufficiency?

My ego stubbornly pulling the mask back into place.

‘I can do it: I am competent. I am able.’

Intended as protection, but with the opposite effect.

Shouting over the signs that my body keeps trying to give me.

‘I don’t know if I can: I am competent, but am I able?’

My coach is always telling me to focus my attention on what is in my control rather than expending my limited capacity on what is not. Unfortunately, I have still spent more of the last week worrying about this situation than I’d like. But I have made a conscious effort to spend the past few days boosting my resilience by doing the things that nourish me, whilst trying to balance that with getting enough rest to support me through the next. This, another addition to the unseen mental load of adapting to my new (and as yet uncomfortable) identity as ‘disabled’.

I’m learning to be kinder to myself and so rather than berate my ego for getting us into this mess, I thank my people-pleasing protector for it’s efforts, which although appreciated for past assistance, are not required at this time. Last Thursday I sent a WhatsApp to my line manager and told her my fears. I admitted that I am still not coping well in the office environment; that on some days when I leave, I am in tears, barely able to walk straight. That I am still spending what feels like a disproportionate amount of time in recovery from them. That the trouble accessing my medication that week had impacted my already dysregulated emotions at a time when I was least able to deal with it. That the psychological difficulties that I have been having (outside of work and my ADHD) were threatening to overwhelm me if I allowed myself to reach the levels of exhaustion that seemed likely over the coming weeks. That the fear of another burnout was looming large in the front of my mind…

I can’t say what her reaction to my honesty looked like, but her written response was not ridicule, scorn, disappointment, or condemnation. It was concern and compassion, just as it was the last time that I confessed my ‘failings’ to her face to face, so I imagine that it looked similar too.

Aside from a couple of notable and distressing outliers, each time I have pushed past the discomfort and fear of not fitting in; honoured the truth, that I am not like everybody else; allowed the mask to slip… I have been met with reassurance that I am accepted, for who I am.

Not the character portrayed by the mask of my ego. My true self.

Relinquishing the mask is scary and uncomfortable, but so is wearing it when the price is yourself.

I’d love to hear if you have had any similar experiences… Are there any spaces where you have been scared to own your truth? Are there any ways you could push past the fear, live a with a little more honesty to see where it might lead? Are there places in which you feel it is absolutely impossible, or even unsafe to be yourself? Or are you already living your fully liberated, best life?

As always, light and shadow- all of you is welcome in this space.