Today was my first day in a new job after nearly five months of not working. The role was a teaching assistant role at a local school for autistic children. The hours weren’t too long. 8.45 am to 3.15pm. Given the nature of the school I was hoping it would feel like a supportive environment.

 

The first part of the day went well enough. I got up, showered, did my make up and arrived 10 minutes early. Looking by all outward appearances like a fit, healthy young woman.

 

The job was much more physical than I had anticipated. I was on my feet the whole time doing activities with year 2 autistic kids. It was mentally and physically taxing.

 

It was time for PE. We accompanied the children to the gymnasium. Halfway through I needed to sit down. I was overcome with crushing exhaustion and my head pounded. A senior teacher came in and called me over to be more active in engaging with the kids.

 

“Sorry”, I said to her, “I’ve just been having a rest. I’m struggling with exhaustion. I’m not used to working with children”. She frowned, the judgement palpable in her expression. “It’s only 11 o’clock” she said looking at her watch.

 

A couple of minutes passed and I could feel my body buckling under sheer exhaustion. I explained to the other teaching assistant I needed to go for a break. “Ok” she replied casually.

 

I found my way back to the classroom to collect my phone and packed lunch. Tears were streaming down my face, the fatigue was overwhelming. “Did you leave Leah alone in the gym?” they asked.

 

I explained I was sorry, I really needed a break. The senior member of staff looked at me, judgement etched into every corner of her face.

 

I collected my things and made my way to the staff room. I sat down and the tears poured down my face at the sheer relief of being able to sit down again. The tears were from the extreme fatigue but they were also a mix of guilt, shame and embarrassment elicited by the judgement around me.

 

Two female members of staff came and basically told me the job clearly wasn’t for me and it was best I went home.

 

I walked through the corridors and to reception. People looked. People stared. My mascara was smudged.  My face was red. Two members of staff made eye contact behind my back and mouthed something to each other. I caught them because I had to ask which way to reception. I pretended not to notice.

 

I got to the car. My safe haven. A judgement free space. More tears rolled down my cheeks. I looked at my ruined make up in the mirror. What next? For now I couldn’t think past crawling into bed.