Stepford Employee Goes to Scarborough

I'm looking down on the North Sands watching a hardy group of surfers, while seagulls wheel and screech overhead.

And I am starting to feel much better.

It's been a strange couple of days, during which I have been feeling peculiarly disassociated. I'm fine when I am at rehearsals, I'm fine when I'm with my friends, I'm very VERY fine when I'm at home with my husband. But I haven't been feeling fine at work.

Personnel have been emailing me, continually shifting the dates of my mediation session with Line Manager; and their latest missive states that nothing can be set up until July. I don't know what mediation means to everyone else, but to me this process only has value if I freely express how I feel. And as this will inevitably leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed; the longer the delay, the more I can feel anxiety building.

So on Friday a little switch trips in my head, and I think "bugger this for a game of soldiers". I politely and apologetically email Personnel and pull out of the whole thing. This inevitably triggers a flurried email from Personnel insisting that I ring her, but I don't respond.

Not responding has become my norm. I go into work, do my tasks, and am as "helpful" as possible, but most of the time I am not fully present. I am still feeling my way into Stepford Employee mode, and realise that I need to start doing more of the smiling and nodding thing - but I find this very difficult when I feel under threat. So it is just as well that I am now on holiday.

I haven't been to Scarborough for years. En route, we keep seeing signs to a Certain Northern City from which New Boss hails; and I reflect on how compartmentalised my life has now become (for I have not mentioned to him, nor anyone else, where I am disappearing off to...). It's colder in Scarborough than I thought it would be. My mother-in-law describes the stiff breeze as "fresh", whereas I'd call it nippy. But our  hotel is spotless and has sea views. The batter is crisp, the peas mushy and the chips salty. And the two young women I currently have the privilege of supporting both ring me towards the end of the day and tell me they are doing just fine without me. Which is fabulous.

There aren't any elaborate plans for our time here, other than mooching about and drinking lots of cups of tea. And that's good - because I need some time and space to recover from my recent wobble, and to think further about my newly adopted Stepford persona.

There would seem to be Considerable Room For Improvement.
As my school reports used to say: "Could do better".