Mental Health Mondays: Did My Self Harm Scars Cost Me A Job Opportunity?
Hey guys, this week on Mental Health Mondays, I'd like to talk about
something that's important and really close to my heart and a lot of yours as well.
Employment with visible self-harm scars. I'm uploading this almost a week early because
this has just been eating away at me....
this has just been eating away at me....
As you know, I have a lot of self-harm scars. My entire left arm is scarred, although it has
been tattooed over, you can still see the scars. They're thick and raised in some
areas and other areas of my wrist I've not tattooed over. There is also a deep valley in my
left wrist when I cut it open a year and a half ago. (If you want the full story on that, it's on my
blog here under "From Homeless to a Place of Peace Pt.2" I think. Don't hold me to that.) To
be honest, the whole right side of my left wrist is disfigured. It still works just fine, its just not pleasant to look at.
I've been looking for other work in addition to the novels and things I do now. I'm wanting to branch out and try new things, you know. Also, extra pocket money doesn't hurt. So, I applied for several positions near where I live. I heard back from one potential employer who seemed most anxious to meet me and liked that I was very prompt with my replies to her emails. I needed to take a personality assessment, which I found odd, but happily did it and send in the results. I printed out a resume and letters of personal reference and left to meet her for our face to face interview. I dressed well. Black leggings, thick cable knit jumper in a coal colour, topped off with faux fur boots, a light black scarf with silver crosses and my knit beanie with a pom.
We shook hands and I was introduced to her husband, who I also would be working with/for. I introduced myself and explained to them why I was looking for the position, despite it being different from my current field of work. They nodded, showing they understood and asked me about my personality assessment. That fucking thing. It said I was a creative, driven and individualistic person. I was asked about my job, how it's rather secluded in a way and I explained why I love my job and that it's not all that it seems to be. I have more responsibilities than just answering to myself. I explain the nature of my writing, the blogs I run and the tutoring I do.
He seemed prepared to look over the fact that I'm more my own boss than anything else. He asked me how I would deal with taking criticism. I work in publishing...you get treated like shit pretty much every day. And I explained that to him ,though I didn't swear. They nodded and smiled and asked me routine job questions. I answered all of them promptly...then I pushed up my sleeves.
It was warm in the room and my jumper was thick, and I was getting too hot. They saw. There was no way they couldn't see my arm and wrist. They were right there in plain view on the table. I didn't think to hide them. They went on asking me if I would be interested in other types and longer employment they could provide me with. I told them I was interested, telling them my basic schedule and that I could re-arrange some writing things in order to put my employment with them first. I also informed them of needing to go to NYC for the first weekend of December, but other than that I was free.
They thanked me for my time and I thanked them as well. I knew they were seeing other candidates as well and that I'd probably find out within the week if I got the position or not. We shook hands, where they saw my wrist again and I departed. Leaving the building I had a sinking feeling. The room felt more stiff and stuff after I'd exposed my scars. It got me to thinking, could this impact me? I shook the fear from my mind as I headed off into the evening. I thought the interview went well. I did everything they asked about me and even arrived early. I made myself available. I was open about my position with writing and that if I had author events etc, I would give them weeks notice should I need to leave for a few days.
Three days later at 22.30 I get an email, saying that they enjoyed meeting me but they found someone who would better meet their needs. What? After all that had happened and they seemed to really like me- well at least the wife did. I was crushed. Then I ran over the interview in my head. The scars-they must have thought I was some kind of nutcase-a danger. I felt sicker than I had in a while. I wanted to disappear. Now, I don't know for sure this was the main reason, but I really feel like it as though it's the reason. I mean, fucking hell, I was ready to jump through flaming hoops for the job and I told them that I needed extra cash because I'm supporting my sister and my paychecks aren't always steady.
I've been looking for other work in addition to the novels and things I do now. I'm wanting to branch out and try new things, you know. Also, extra pocket money doesn't hurt. So, I applied for several positions near where I live. I heard back from one potential employer who seemed most anxious to meet me and liked that I was very prompt with my replies to her emails. I needed to take a personality assessment, which I found odd, but happily did it and send in the results. I printed out a resume and letters of personal reference and left to meet her for our face to face interview. I dressed well. Black leggings, thick cable knit jumper in a coal colour, topped off with faux fur boots, a light black scarf with silver crosses and my knit beanie with a pom.
We shook hands and I was introduced to her husband, who I also would be working with/for. I introduced myself and explained to them why I was looking for the position, despite it being different from my current field of work. They nodded, showing they understood and asked me about my personality assessment. That fucking thing. It said I was a creative, driven and individualistic person. I was asked about my job, how it's rather secluded in a way and I explained why I love my job and that it's not all that it seems to be. I have more responsibilities than just answering to myself. I explain the nature of my writing, the blogs I run and the tutoring I do.
He seemed prepared to look over the fact that I'm more my own boss than anything else. He asked me how I would deal with taking criticism. I work in publishing...you get treated like shit pretty much every day. And I explained that to him ,though I didn't swear. They nodded and smiled and asked me routine job questions. I answered all of them promptly...then I pushed up my sleeves.
It was warm in the room and my jumper was thick, and I was getting too hot. They saw. There was no way they couldn't see my arm and wrist. They were right there in plain view on the table. I didn't think to hide them. They went on asking me if I would be interested in other types and longer employment they could provide me with. I told them I was interested, telling them my basic schedule and that I could re-arrange some writing things in order to put my employment with them first. I also informed them of needing to go to NYC for the first weekend of December, but other than that I was free.
They thanked me for my time and I thanked them as well. I knew they were seeing other candidates as well and that I'd probably find out within the week if I got the position or not. We shook hands, where they saw my wrist again and I departed. Leaving the building I had a sinking feeling. The room felt more stiff and stuff after I'd exposed my scars. It got me to thinking, could this impact me? I shook the fear from my mind as I headed off into the evening. I thought the interview went well. I did everything they asked about me and even arrived early. I made myself available. I was open about my position with writing and that if I had author events etc, I would give them weeks notice should I need to leave for a few days.
Three days later at 22.30 I get an email, saying that they enjoyed meeting me but they found someone who would better meet their needs. What? After all that had happened and they seemed to really like me- well at least the wife did. I was crushed. Then I ran over the interview in my head. The scars-they must have thought I was some kind of nutcase-a danger. I felt sicker than I had in a while. I wanted to disappear. Now, I don't know for sure this was the main reason, but I really feel like it as though it's the reason. I mean, fucking hell, I was ready to jump through flaming hoops for the job and I told them that I needed extra cash because I'm supporting my sister and my paychecks aren't always steady.
Last week on the first entry, I didn't really explain what I'm going to cover in Mental Health Mondays or what it really is all about. It's going to be a platform to talk about various mental health topics, my own illness, recovery, relapse and everything in between.
It's important to remember that not all self-harmers are the same. In fact, every self-harmer is different. We all have different methods, reasons, backgrounds and illnesses that drive our compulsions to self-harm. We are cutters, burners, junk food addicts, bulimics, anorexics, we are binge-eaters (I mention EDs here as I have known people who use food to self-harm, who do not fall into the typical categories for an ED, that are recognised by many medical professionals.) We are wrist bangers, hair pullers and wound pickers. We are White, Asian, Black, Hispanic and any combination of races. We are Catholic, Atheist, Agnostic, Jewish, Hindu, Islamic, Protestant, Buddist and many other faiths. We are rich, poor, somewhere in between. We are loved and we are the unloved. We are children. We are teens. We are adults. We may live in cities, towns, villages, the country-we come from every single country and continent. We speak many languages. The most important thing that we are? We are not alone.
If you feel comfortable you can share your story in the comments or via a personal message or contact me via my social medias. I'd love to hear from a bunch of you guys, so don't be shy. It stays between you and me.
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