I didn’t want to believe this would ever happen to me. But it has.
I was briefly denied a mental health day off from work, the day after being forced to babysit a known alleged criminal and prevent her from doing any more damage to us, and getting into an argument with her over very shady behavior that resulted in me raising my voice and pointing my finger in her face. This during a day when I turned down no less than three people for alcohol and cigarette sales for not having their ID with them, and no less than 10 people gave me grief. I am constant as the Northern Star, and the law is on my side, and I will not be moved.
I was on the phone crying my eyes out to my pastor, wondering if I’d even still be remembered a year after I was gone, wondering if I’d ever know how much of a difference I made to people’s lives and improving the world, and that fear is so very, very real that I’m breaking up right now as we speak, tears streaming down my face, just recalling it. The pain is very real, and very, very raw. My grandfather was a great, great man, an educator. My father is a great woman, a former music minister. And I’ve done fuck-all with my life. I thought I’d be married with children by now, at the very least.
That’s part of why my 2022 New Year’s Resolution was to always make sure the people I love know just how much I love them. That’s why I’ve committed to learning basic conversational skills in Spanish, so I can communicate with more of my customers. And that’s why I’m going to start a series of benefit concerts for the church’s wider outreach around the world, starting with The Trevor Project. I’m stepping up my activism.
So, while on the phone with my pastor, I get a call back from Work Ethic Woman, who informs me that sadly, I’ll have to come in anyway, that they can’t find anyone to cover my shift. And it’s time to set some boundaries.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m taking a mental health day off from work. I’m not at her beck and call 24 hours a day. I’m a human being with very real needs that were elucidated up front. She knows damn well I have a diagnosed mental health condition, and if she attempts to force me to come in, I will quit this job and she can go fuck herself.” I might even be able to get an ADA claim out of it. Especially with the detailed records I’ve been keeping.
I didn’t say it just like that, of course, and the ADA claim didn’t occur to me until just now. Work Ethic Woman didn’t realize it had been so bad that I’d called the Suicide and Crisis Hotline until I told her, and she was horrified. “Okay. Don’t worry about it.”
But there is a very real stigma in this world when it comes to people battling mental health issues. Mentor has spent the last two days off from work battling some kind of stomach flu (and even he had to work the day after dental surgery, when he literally was in so much pain he couldn’t speak. I should have offered to work a double and sent his ass home, and I’m a little upset at myself that I didn’t.)
Anyway, what are your thoughts?