Late in 2018, I missed out on the job I wanted due to some sloppy delivery, in some aspects of my interview.
It was an internal process and so I went out of my way to hide the hurt and to protect those whom needed my assurance that there was no hard feelings.
I think I carry a wound, as we all do, when we miss out on our ambitions, particularly when it would seem that I missed an open goal – it was mine for the taking and I fluffed it.
In the intervening period, I have worked hard to support the person who came into the organisation to be my manager. She is good, I have no qualms at all with her professional qualities and her fears that I would be difficult evaporated immediately which she has kindly acknowledged.
Yesterday on the bank holiday, I worked for a few hours in the morning and I decided I would do so again on Monday. An opportunity to get things straight in my head without any interruptions whilst my team are on leave.
There is nothing unique in this approach, with someone holding the responsibilities I do and the generous salary and benefits which comes with it.
However, as I left my office, to go downstairs to join my wife for the late starting bank holiday weekend, my head warm with the mental exertion of the issues I had resolved, I was met with an onslaught of anger and frustration at my lack of commitment to her needs.
Jobs need doing in the house which have not been done, the lock-down is driving her crazy and I am not around to support her.
In her view, I am a failure because I need to work when others do not, I am not appreciated, I would be replaced in a flash if I died of coronavirus, and I am scared of my boss – and to boot all this has happened to me before remember!.
I held my head in my hands, to stop it falling off my neck, and I went into the garden to jet-wash the patio. The physicality of the action, and the warm outdoor air soothed my anguish and the repetitive strokes calmed my blood – (my response was my coaching in action).
When I got to bed last night, I felt unwell, my heart racing and my mind in turmoil as I tried to grapple with the question of whether I have a future in my marriage.
I know in professional terms, my career has peaked, I am unlikely to progress further, not because of my abilities, but because of the emotional wounds which I carry on top of the weight of the suppression of my gay truth.
I’ve peaked, but I do not have to slide, I’ve peaked and from this high place I should take the benefits from the visible horizon and pick out a path which will bring me peace.