A few days back, I passed a clearly distressed man who was teetering on a corner who appeared to be foaming at the mouth He as also screaming obscenities and somewhat (feebly) swinging at people. Thus, it was very hard to try to help him out. At one point, I just had to run away from the situation somewhat concerned for my own safety. I looked back and noticed that he was walking away from some individuals that were trying to help. I just shook my head and got angry at the funders and government entities that do not prioritize mental healthcare access. And, this is worldwide.
As I kept walking I started thinking of the television show The Walking Dead. I love that show but am horribly behind in my viewing. So, no spoilers please! Although, I assume at this point in time in the show a few more characters have been eaten away and they are still in a post-apocalyptic environment. Thus, not much to spoil there. For a second, in flashing back to that television show, I thought of instances in the past where I my self felt as a zombie. Meaning, that I felt anger or rage but let it fester inside without much power to change the situation. It has not happened to me often in life, but it has indeed. Many of such times were at my workplace.
Even though I was fairly high up and ostensibly had power, there were times where I could not really say or do what needed to be done because I was being censored for the good of the agency. There was one occasion where I, for some unreasonable reason, was being blamed for a crazy situation that occurred in the workplace. I had done my due diligence in reporting it up the chain of command and yet nothing had been done to address the situation despite my report and recommendation for stern action. Because the person that committed the action was not publicly reprimanded it was assumed that I gave that person a pass because I liked them. That cut to my core because I am an extremely fair person and regardless of my personal feelings I will each situation on its own merits. To state I did not do that was offensive.Part of why I was blamed by the situation was because I was the only female in the whole chain of events. At the end of it all, the boys were looking out for the boys. How junior high school.
However, I could not state anything about that situation because it would put the agency at risk or I would be seen as a traitor by the person who eventually did not take action. What a tangled web we weave in the workplace. I felt my brain rotting in such a situation. Then a few days before I left I just went off on a rant about it and finally let it out and it felt good to do so. Obviously, such a rant changes nothing of what happened nor does it officially set anything straight. However, I left with my conscience clear. I vowed that I would not allow that type of situation to ever happen again. My brain will not be eaten away at by ridiculous idiots in a power play and responsibility obfuscation.
No more Walking Dead episodes will be played out in the workplace under my watch.