Back when I was employed by organizations, and shit would go down, my employers expected me to deliver work. It felt surreal to work for those who felt nothing. It was something I never understood.

I recall the death of my beloved pet dog—Circuit. I was at work and left the office after dropping a mail to my senior colleague about it. Of how I needed to be home with my grandfather while my family would go cremate him at a pet crematorium, all of which was sudden and unplanned. I don't think it was a lot to ask for. A day's leave. A day I had clocked in on time. I shouldn't have had to explain over and over and yet I did. 

I remember the first time I had a panic attack (an actual panic attack) that led to a state of breathlessness among other things and I told my boss (at the time) that I'd need a day to recuperate. They went ahead and posted an Instagram status about people feigning excuses to not come to work on Monday. It was something that was brought to my attention by another colleague, and I wish I had actually feigned an excuse on the day of, to garner that response. It broke my heart. For everything I gave out to people, they couldn't bring to deliver empathy?