Gaslighting at Work**

***This post is AI EDITED for clarity*

On This Day, December 16, 2024, at 17:16

I just posted a photo of the gift I received from my job in recognition of five years of service. No one interacted with the post.

Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve been getting gaslit at work pretty heavily since returning after my last accident.

On the day before my birthday, I ordered myself the latest and greatest mobile device I could afford—at least, in my eyes—a Galaxy Fold 5. On my way to Best Buy to pick up the phone, I got into the accident that would break my back for the second time in 2023. I was less than a mile away from my home. It took at least a week before I fully regained consciousness.

The medical staff decided to reduce my pain medication to see how I would tolerate the broken sacrum. For context, the sacrum is the bone connecting your pelvis to your spine. When I came to, two physical therapists informed me that they were going to help me sit up. Nothing major—just slightly raise the bed.

Suddenly, the world became overexposed, like a camera flash gone wrong. Everything turned white, and I heard my body scream in a way I’d never imagined. It felt as though I’d been dipped in boiling oil from the waist down. The pain wasn’t just everywhere; it was everything.

In that moment, I thought, This pain is all I’ll ever know again. I didn’t hesitate to ask my surgeon for a DNR before the operation. With a completely straight face, I told her, “If anything goes wrong, I just want you to let me go.” She laughed, thinking I was joking.

Painful Therapy and a Morphine Blanket

Back in the hospital, the physical therapists—whom I can now acknowledge were just doing their jobs—felt sadistic in the moment. My body let out a visceral, primal cry, summoning nurses from the hallway. One of them casually remarked, “It’s alright; he’s with PT.” I’m still not sure if this was real or a morphine-induced dream, but I distinctly remember shouting, “No, it is NOT alright! Help me! These people are trying to kill me!”

At that point, a nurse appeared with a syringe—filled, I imagine, with relief—and a warm blanket. And, perhaps, a mother’s love. That part is still up for debate. Morphine can be poetic, after all.

An X-Ray Experience to Forget

One memory stands out vividly. While being taken for an X-ray, still half-conscious from morphine, the tech decided to move me alone from the gurney to the X-ray table. Alone. Reality hit harder than a comet. Looking back, it was careless, reckless—even intentional, perhaps. Who approved this transfer?

The trauma was so severe that I cried as I approached the MRI bed for a later procedure. Thankfully, the MRI tech noticed my terror and called in two additional people to help. Their gentleness was a stark contrast to my earlier experience, and I thanked them profusely, with tears in my eyes. As I recall this now, I can’t help but wonder: should I be speaking with a malpractice attorney?

Self-Inventory and Unwelcome Realizations

Somewhere along the line, I became an unwelcome person on my team. If I’m honest, I’m not surprised. True growth demands deep self-inventory. You must examine your positive and negative qualities—ideally with input from someone who is both honest and kind.

After completing such an inventory, you should have a clear picture of yourself, which can guide your next steps. For me, that inventory revealed both pride in my work and the glaring gaps in how I was valued.

My Work Journey

I started as a contract employee on a six-month term and quickly fell in love with the company. Every year, it ranked among the top 100 best places to work, and for good reason. My role was easy compared to other IT jobs I’d held. Most days involved simple tasks like asking customers to reset their passwords or clear their cache.

I worked hard to prove myself. My performance reviews were glowing, and I was soon promoted through multiple roles in quick succession. Yet, despite my efforts and additional responsibilities, formal promotions and raises were few and far between. In fact, after being officially hired in December 2019, I didn’t receive another raise for nearly three years.

Fast-Forward to Today

Five and a half years later, I’m still with the company—but it’s been a rough journey. I’ve taken FMLA leave five times: four for rehab and once due to homelessness. By the time of my fourth leave, the cracks were showing, both in my life and in my work performance.

When I returned after that leave, following a brief stint in jail and a mad dash to find housing, I was a shell of my former self. Yet, here I am, still trying to make sense of it all—and writing in the hopes that someone can learn from my experiences. Life without mistakes might be boring, but maybe others don’t need to make quite as many as I have.

This is just the beginning. Stay tuned for part two.