Warning: This is a not-so-fun post. And I’m not a quitter but…
I decided to write this because I know it’s going to make me feel better once I’m done. Submitting a resignation letter could have been great, but apparently I am forever bound as one of the incorporators of an organization that had somehow failed to be fully established. Also, I wasn’t given the chance or even the common courtesy do so, because someone has already spoken on my behalf [read: without my consent] when I was still on the process of deciding and figuring things out.
All I had in mind was to be of help. What I’ve gone through with my condition was something terrible, and I want to be part of an effective support system. Going through a rare ordeal is difficult. It makes you feel alone. No one genuinely understands what it feels like not being able to walk, talk, swallow and breathe due to severe weakness. It’s like cracking up a joke using a Harry Potter reference to a person who has never read even a single book from the series. And it sucks.
That’s why a support group is important. I mean, it worked for me in ways that a support group should work… at first. Sharing experiences, how to deal with MG during the summer and during the extremely cold months, do’s and don’ts on food and over the counter drugs, how to get medical assistance from charitable institutions, etc. Friendships are born, some of us died, some of us survived. All of us keep on fighting. Because we believed no matter what happens, we have each other. We understood each other. And we figured it wasn’t so bad if we become ambitious and establish something that would allow us to reach out on a wider spectrum. We expanded. We offered all kinds of help. We gained recognition.
I should be happy. I finally have a bigger opportunity to help other people (if I would simply go back to my ultimate purpose). But bigger opportunities also come with bigger responsibilities. Rules should be created and implemented. And I easily became a pariah among the members for trying my best to implement these rules, rules that would deliberately be violated by the same people who agreed to set them. Think about the stress, and the efforts wasted. I could only imagine the people I’ve called for laughing out loud as they read this. And the worst part is, I couldn’t blame them.
Of course I also have faults. I was too judgemental and maybe it got way too overboard. But I was nice. I tried to. And I was accommodating, too. I believe there’s a reason why I’ve always been in the customer service industry. I have way with words. I know how to talk to people. My bosses then and now could attest how nice I am when I speak over the phone and compose emails. But people of certain age and status naturally do not want to be called for. Especially when they’re guilty. Or when they’re older than me. They want me to shut up and would demand respect. FYI: I am a 30-something woman and I decide who deserves my respect, thank you very much!
Then there’s the issue of trust. The arguments and huge misunderstandings that ended in tears. I’ve figured it should be nothing personal – this is all about how we could make this work. But we were friends, and we’re supposed to have connections deeper than our own self-pity and selfish intentions. But then I’ve realized long ago that when a person is in pain, it takes time to heal. No, it’s not about being stubborn, or proud or prejudiced. It’s about being hurt and the need for time to figure things out – of why you were accused of something you didn’t do, why you were being back-lashed by the people you trusted, why your entire life was judged according to a one-time mistake, why you cannot just leave with no questions asked and why you weren’t given the courtesy to speak for yourself so now you use your platform to do it in a classy way.
So I quit. Before the emotional stress and the anxiety kill me, or rob me of my sanity, I am walking away. Right now I feel like I am on the verge of losing it, tbh. This isn’t the only thing that bothers me, but it’s a huge chunk and I want to take it off my plate. And no one should tell me to go back to my Ultimate Why because it has obviously been outnumbered by my Buts. It has clearly become a burden rather than an opportunity. Maybe, the greatest consolation I have for losing what I have worked so hard for is that, this is for the best. And although good byes are generally sad, I’m sure this isn’t the ending. I could still be of help and I know there are millions of opportunities out there waiting for me. I just need to heal. I just need time. And a big hug from God.
