⚠️ This post discusses workplace stress, misrepresentation of events, and authority overreach. Take care while reading. This is my personal account based on contemporaneous emails, logs, and documents. Identities and non-essential details have been withheld for privacy.

It’s been a hell of a professional year for me. The one goal I had at the beginning was to upskill—learn more, get better at my craft—and then by next year I’d quit and find another job.

By April, I was already thinking maybe working 9–6 wasn’t for me. I was stressed and tired. There was a lot going on at the office. A lot of drama. A lot of queries. A lot of moments where I’d crash out and say I need to quit this job and just go, because I couldn’t stand the way some people reasoned, how they could only see my fault, never acknowledge they might also be at fault. How I had to keep doing things I didn’t even want to do, being steered in a direction that would leave me unhappy.

Despite all my crash outs, I didn’t really plan to quit. Instead, I built a five-year financial plan to save aggressively so I could bow out for a year or two, find myself and just exist, maybe start my own thing and get retainer clients. I know I can do it, but I also like job security; it’s faster this way tbh, because man, I can be irresponsible when it comes to myself.

I kept telling myself to be loyal, to push through to “be professional.” Because I liked my office. I liked my colleagues. I liked what I’d built and how I could collaborate, so my work wasn’t too complicated. I liked the respect, the understanding with the owners. But I was tired. And I’d become a bit indifferent—which I think is expected when you’ve been told (stylishly) that your “replacement is everywhere.” When that didn’t rattle me and I kept shrugging it off, the tactic changed.

Let me get to the catalyst. The reason why, after so long, I knew I couldn’t keep doing this to myself.

On a random Monday, something happened, and it made something in me… click shut.

At 1:25 p.m. I opened a formal query (a written disciplinary note). It said a post was pending because I hadn’t provided a required link and then folded in the usual lines about being “non-responsive,” “unprofessional,” and “disregard for timelines.”

Meanwhile, that same morning I had already shared the link at 8:57 a.m., gotten final approval at 10:51 a.m., and the post was live at 10:56 a.m. across the firm pages. I’d done the work. I’d done it first thing. The narrative just wasn’t true.

Let me rewind.

Late Thursday: A request email: design and share an update post. No deadline. No “urgent”.

Earlier that same day, I had filed sick leave on the HR Portal and left the physical doctor’s note with People & Culture. Doctor’s orders—rest and disengage from work.

Friday: I rested. A teammate pinged asking for a link for the post. I didn’t respond immediately because I was genuinely unwell. That’s what the leave was for.

Saturday: One call from my line manager. No text. No email. No “this is urgent” or “please call back re: [task]”. Still ill, I didn’t return the call and, without context, forgot about it. If something is urgent, no matter how big you are, it’s just courtesy to exhaust all options when trying to reach a person, or at most follow up in writing, which is why I still find it odd that they later called it an “urgent” task I ignored.

Back to present.

Monday:

• 8:57 a.m. — Shared the requested link for the post.
• 10:51 a.m. — Final approval after internal review.
• 10:56 a.m. — Post published on Instagram, LinkedIn, and X (formerly Twitter).

I missed two calls from my line manager that morning; my phone was on Do Not Disturb, a focus habit I had been using for weeks. P&C told me they had tried to reach me, so I walked to their office immediately. They were having a meeting; I went back to my desk.

Then at 1:25 p.m., the query dropped. No “please explain”. No “what happened?”. Just a verdict: delayed post, poor communication, lack of professionalism. For a piece of work that had been live for hours.

A couple of days later, after giving a very calm and factual response, the goalposts moved, in the form of a follow-up query: apparently, I hadn’t “engaged” my line manager.

Engage—about what, exactly?

• My line manager didn’t assign the task.
• My line manager never messaged me about it.
• No one flagged urgency at any point.
• I’d already completed the work the minute I was back.

It’s the casual rewriting for me, performance reframed as attitude because I didn’t decode a context-free missed call while on sick leave.

Not the work. Not the timeline. Boundaries.

Sick leave means you don’t work. If leadership expects people to be on-call while ill, say it plainly and put it in policy. If something is urgent, label it urgent and put it in writing. One call with no context and no written follow-up isn’t an escalation; it’s ambiguity.

The basis they gave me was simple “ignoring senior management.” Essentially, why I didn’t call back on Saturday, or text to ask why they had called. It was tagged insubordination.

For the record, I keep the same boundary with everyone, owners included. And my bosses have said many times, if you reach out on one channel, follow up via another channel so the person actually sees it. That isn’t attitude; it’s courtesy and how you make sure work lands.

Did the query hurt? Yes. Not only because it was wrong, but because a straight timeline was turned into a judgement on my character, and sick leave was treated like an inconvenience rather than a boundary. I felt it in my chest. I second-guessed myself for a minute, then I read back the emails and the timestamps and remembered the truth.

If I’m giving any grace at all, it’s this: next time, after a missed weekend call, I might send a one-liner, “I’m currently unavailable. Please text the details and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” That isn’t me accepting availability while ill; it’s me removing room for confusion.

I did not argue. I documented. Timestamps, screenshots, context. I even found the courage to write to ownership and ask for a formal review. It has now been over a month. There has been no acknowledgement and no conversation. On paper it reads ‘non-responsive’. In reality, I was unavailable on documented medical leave and delivered the work on Monday.

This bit matters because it names the cost. My value is the work I deliver, not unlimited access to me. I am not a hotline. I do my job well and I protect my health. I did both.

It’s been a month and a week now since then, and I’ve dropped my notice. They asked why I want to leave. Do they really expect me to say it’s the quiet, mental stuff that chips away at you? They’d call it weakness and tell me not to take things to heart. So I told the truth that lands. I got clear. I got a new offer. I’m leaving well. I’m grateful for what I learned. I’m honest about what I need. I’m starting again on my terms. Whatever the new place is, I’m walking in with boundaries, I’m protecting my peace, and I’m doing work I actually want to do.

This whole spectacle has left me with lessons I’m carrying forward. Silence is an answer, and loyalty has a limit. At least I know now that mine does. I did the work, I asked for fairness, the room stayed quiet, and I chose the path that let me breathe—without burning a bridge.