Strong Man.

I am enjoying not having to deal with the crap of my job! I know I have to go back after next week but this time feels really beneficial for me. I still get a strange and uncomfortable feeling when I think about trudging back to the madness: its like taking a full breath but not feeling like there was actual oxygen in it. I think it to be a physical symptom of my emotional angst- akin to a panic attack I suspect (I've never knowingly had one).

This is a new experience for me. For as long as I can remember I have presented strength. I was beaten with belts for minor infractions as a child [e.g. not emptying waste bins into the main bin and putting it out to be collected... on Christmas Eve! - My mother couldn't afford presents so found a way to say that I didn't deserve them!!!]. My defiance was to take the abuse with stoicism- apart from showing my parents how much I hated them and to fixate on the day I would leave never to return. Giving them the pleasure of my tears was not going to happen. I may have received more "punishment" as a result but I had few illusions about the 'sanctity' of family by the time I fled to university. 

I have always been bigger than my peers and I have often been the only black man in a gathering. There have been few places where I have worked that being 6ft 2 & black has not been an issue and if you add "openly gay" into the mix it is hard not to feel scrutinised. My response has been to present a "face to greet the faces that you meet" and, despite priding myself on my openness, when I have been hurt or defeated I have never shown it publicly.

I wonder how different things would have been for me had I been less confrontational and acquiesced to the stupid ideas and lies that saw me flounce out of several of the jobs I've had. The fact that consistently I have been proved right carries less clout on my CV if it was appropriate to include it, than the fact that I have NOT got on with several of the Boards for which I worked.  Intercultural Arts was one of the worst: the organisation had been called The North East Cultural Diversity Arts Forum before I got hold of it. When I was employed it was run by the all male reps of 5 or 6 minority ethnic organisations whom the Arse Council (sic) rolled up together for their own convenience. Board meetings took 3 hours or more mainly because these South Asian and African 'elders' were most interested in asserting that their individual culture was older/greater than anyone else's than actually getting any business done. I got most of them to stand down by showing them the real nature of the work the organisation needed to be doing. Their replacements were more diverse, more politically aware and more competent- at first. Sadly, towards the end; it was a group of people more interested in riding the coat tails of the organisation than getting stuck in and fighting for it. There was some political cachet to being on the Board of the region's minority ethnic arts agency as long as no actual requests were made. One member NEVER attended even ONE meeting! I can't honestly remember the issue now, but at one of the last Board meetings I attended a younger Board members ( known to be "A bit of a space cadet" amongst her work mates) said something that pressed my buttons in a particular sequence and earned her a stern response from me. Her embarrassment led to tears and I was branded a bully. I remember challenging that assessment and pointing out that I had been wronged but I wasn't the one in tears so it stuck. it was made worse when another Board member said they agreed with me, but I wanted to know why they'd not agreed in the meeting when the incident happened.

But then, really... If I had turned on the waterworks when I didn't get my way, who would have trusted me with any executive role afterwards? Real Men Don't Cry! I have an 'ex' like that: He is bigger than me and had a macho job until a breakdown. He fucked up a job the year before last by taking something for which he wasn't qualified. When he began to struggle he hid it and was on Facebook all day rather than doing his job. When his (local authority) manager censured him, he went off sick and stretched it out for months. Ultimately, when they were able to sack him he was able to 'on the sick' where he is still happy to be avoiding the stress of working for a living.

When I saw my doctor last week I was in turmoil about being there! It felt like such an admission of failure. At the same time, the thought crossed my mind of emulating a friend who asked me to accompany him to an ATOS interview where he behaved so bizarrely I was surprised they didn't have him 'sectioned'! I am stupidly honest sometimes. I think it is really obvious if I lie, I have too many "tells" but worse: I often forget what I've said so sticking to what actually happened is safest. Depression isn't ONLY manifested as the big black dog that makes you want to hide, for me it is often a frustrated rage, usually at crap people in power. 

Oh!- to have the resources to do what I know needs to be done and the freedom to do it my own way! BTW I am NOT one of those who believes he knows everything. In fact I start ANY new project by reviewing and challenging my beliefs, researching updates and engaging the people with/for whom I am working. I seek challenges to my ideas, I do not see them as intrinsically negative- which is not to say that I ditch my ideas as soon as something else comes along; yes I will fight my corner, that doesn't make me a bully. Interestingly; with one exception, I am confident that all the staff groups of the organisations with whose Boards I've clashed would speak fondly of me.

-which reminds me: we'd hired an assistant at Intercultural Arts barely 4 months before I took voluntary redundancy. The guy had recently become a father and, though it was an option was to make HIM redundant and  offer me a reduced salary I was happy to step aside. I spent my last weeks there ensuring a good handover and new direction for the organisation I'd spent several years building into something that was quite well respected. None of those plans materialised in the months after I'd left and they let what was left of the organisation just wither and die. I found out that the assistant I'd tried to protect 'turned' after my departure and thought he was now worth more money. If I had known he was going to be like that I would have stayed, last in, first out after all. I was horrified to realise that I didn't know the guy at all because the face to greet the faces that HE meets was false. 

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