Suspicious minds

We had an away day at work recently.

Sigh.

The very phrase strikes fear. No matter where I've worked, they are the kind of thing that I look forward to with rather less enthusiasm than I reserve for my smear test.

It’s the ‘fun’ activities, the sneaky feeling that everyone else in the room knows a lot more than I do about their jobs, and the having to make slightly awkward small talk with scary-big-boss while simultaneously trying to work out how the flipping hot water dispenser works.

(As an aside, I’m still convinced this ability to get the hot water from the kettle type thing with its inexplicably complicated push button type opening is some sort of ongoing test within our working lives which will one day separate the truly capable from the utterly, utterly hopeless and we will be pay graded on our hot water prowess. Or lack thereof.)

And, with the addition of MS, there is the constant extra struggle to concentrate and contribute without slurring, stumbling or giving the vacant thousand yard stare. Always a good one to bring out at 3pm when scary-big-boss asks you a fundamental question which could determine your entire working future at this organisation.

Anyway, as it happened, it wasn’t bad at all. The fun activities were actually fun and we had the benefit of a truly inspirational speaker, Dave Heeley – or Blind Dave as he is known. Find out about his incredible achievements.

I also had the extra surprise of being given an award for my work. I’ll quickly add that this is not a post to brag. This is a post examining my unexpected reaction to this very pleasant surprise.

This is to wonder why my immediate thought was: “They’ve only given it me because I’m disabled and they feel sorry for me.”

And it’s not just the award. In self-doubting moments, I also wonder if I only got my job because I was helping up some kind of inclusion representation on their employee database.

When did I start becoming so suspicious? Or self-doubting? Is this what 12+ years of MS has done? How much disability prejudice have I internalised without being aware of it?

It’s a dangerous route to go down because it means that I’m not separating the ME from the MS. And yes, I’m aware that – for larger or smaller, depending on the day – MS and I do have some kind of parasitic symbiotic relationship, but I don’t want it to become the relationship that completely defines me.

So I’m trying my best to kick down the nagging voice of doubt and instead accept the recognition on face value. Perhaps it’s not pity, perhaps it’s actually that I’m not really terrible at my job.

Even though I will never work out the secret hot water pay and grading challenge.

:: Suspicious minds by Elvis Presley

I won't back down

When I left my previous role, my lovely work colleagues presented me with an amazing wordle picture. (Here’s some examples – I didn’t know the proper name when they gave it me.)

They’d collected up all the words they’d use to describe me and popped them all onto A2 and framed it as part of my farewell gift.

And they are 35 lovely, lovely words. Then right down at the bottom of the picture are two others that made me smile: strong-willed and stubborn.*

While I’ve assumed they were describing someone far better than me with the nicer words, sadly there’s no getting round those two.

Because crikey they’re right. But the thing is, I’ve yet to decide if being stubborn is a help or a hindrance.

This was brought into focus last week, this time in my current job, when I was quite clearly not well. My head was on fire, my brain had moved house and my balance had gone so completely I was stumbling around the office like Bambi on absinthe.

So to stop me injuring myself/my colleagues/the office equipment, HR stepped in and gently suggested I might like to think about going home.

This was met with a furrowed brow – although not as furrowed as I would have liked due to head-on-fire situation. 

But it did prove that I’m a bit of a nightmare for employers when it comes to my MS in the workplace – I don’t like giving up. And I don’t like it for a number of reasons:

1. Guilt
2. Deteriorating sickness absence record
3. I know how ill I can be and on that scale, I wasn’t that ill

But eventually common sense prevailed and HR won. As my colleagues chaperoned me down in the lift (ostensibly to make sure I was okay, but actually to make sure I left the building) I fell into three walls and sheepishly apologised for my ridiculous carry-on-until-the-bitter-end-ness.

I accept that I struggle with utter pig-headedness.

From my point of view, it’s what keeps me going. From their point of view, it’s what’s preventing their duty of care.

Plus all the in between messiness of me feeling a burden or making colleagues uncomfortable and them worrying about offending personal pride or accidentally making me feel I’m not wanted.

It’s unlikely to be a dilemma that’s settled soon, if at all. So in the meantime I’m just grateful to be a) working, b) working with people that care and c) not to have broken the printer.

:: I won’t back down by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

*I can’t decide if strong-willed is actually just a polite and faux empowering way of saying stubborn. But I think they’re probably both on there to make a point.