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In a one-to-one, my manager asks me an open-ended question: “How are you really feeling?”

They’re worried I’m growing frustrated with the state of affairs. Is it really that obvious? Let’s blame that injection again, for I don’t hold back. I’m honest, to the point, focussed.

I probably couldn’t have had this discussion with my previous manager. But it seems my new boss appreciates my candour, as if it reconfirms their own misgivings. Turns out I’m counselling the director.

They’re worried they’re losing me. I say, don’t worry: it’s been like this for years, and I’m still here, trying to make things better. I have no plans to jump ship, leaving them aboard this sinking wreck. I’ll keep on plugging away.

This seems to reassure them. What I don’t say: that I don’t think there’s anywhere for me to go. For while they say lovely things about me, I don’t honestly see myself that way. I don’t have that bold confidence in myself that they have in me.

Later in our conversation, my manager tells me that they think I’m contributing at a level far above my pay grade. I should be in leadership, they say, not spending my days making up for the grave shortcomings of the team.

A stronger personality might feel emboldened by this declaration, deciding it time to start looking around for leadership positions elsewhere. But, you see, I don’t view myself that way. I’m not a great intellectual: I’m just an expert in my own quite limited field.

“I think you’re too harsh on yourself,” they laugh in response, “You sell yourself short. You’re your own worst critic.”

These are nice sentiments to hear, of course. Everyone needs a boost to their self-esteem from time to time. But is what they say really true? Do I have more to contribute than I’m currently able to? Almost certainly. But is there space to do so? That’s a different question.

My manager tells me they consider me a strategic thinker. This one is a hard sell, as someone who has suffered for a lifetime with a kind of brain fog which cuts thoughts in half, mid-sentence. I’d say I just think differently.

I’m not one to accept that we just go on doing things because they’ve always been done that way. I consistently ask why? Especially if it seems to make no sense at all. I don’t just accept the status quo. I especially don’t like unnecessary complexity, seemingly instituted just for the sake of it. I like simplifying things. Perhaps because I’m simple.

All said, these candid conversations with my manager are kind of therapeutic. Refreshing even. To be taken seriously at last means a lot, even if it’s not immediately clear what difference it might make.

I can’t say I’ve ever been taken seriously like this before. I was always the one — from my earliest recollections onwards — picked last for any kind of team. Forever the grudging last resort.

To be taken seriously is something new to me. I’m not used to it at all, but perhaps I could and should. Let’s see what the future has in store.