Maybe celebrate is the wrong word. Today in a team meeting we discussed the awareness week and the importance of self-care in the line of work we do. As it progressed it seemed fitting for me to out myself in a Hi my name is style. I talked about some of the challenges I have and how I might cope with them in the workplace. Part of me thinks it might have been a bit of career suicide but really I did it because I want everyone to understand why I’m off work sometimes and because there was someone else in that room who came to me about their own mental health issues. She seemed embarrassed and maybe even a little ashamed and I wanted her to know that we would all be supportive and helpful of each other. She’s remains in the mental health closet for now and that’s okay, she’ll get there.
I spent some time thinking today about the paradox that is my employer. The job I do involves promoting health and abilities and supporting people as they need it. My employer promotes mental health week with posters and emails with links that they think might be helpful yet when I make a request for accommodation that would be helpful to me and support me with my work it is denied. The request would cost them nothing and would not result in any loss of productivity yet but was denied due to how it would be perceived by others. Part of me wants to be furious and take it to a higher level (which I have done before and am not opposed to doing again) and the other part of me shrugs and says “meh”. I think the “meh” part of me comes in because my medication was doubled as of Saturday. Maybe soon I won’t feel feelings anymore.
On my way home I stopped at the Asian market by my place. It always smells really bad when you first walk in but they have some great food there and if you go in the evenings all the prepared foods are half price. I must have gone too early because nothing was half price yet so I wandered around aimlessly. I found myself in the bakery staring at all the pretty cakes. I was asked if I needed help and before I knew it I was buying a cake. A cake for myself. Bakery man asked me if it was for a birthday and I felt all anxious about it so I said “yes” because who wants to say “no, this whole goddamn cake is for me”?! He then brought out a bin of happy birthday signs and I had to choose one for my cake and then tell him where I wanted it to go. So now I have a cake for myself with a fucking Happy Birthday sign.