~ A Reflection on Workplace Moral Injury

There are moments in life that etch themselves into the nervous system. For me, one of those moments began more than thirty years ago, during an apprenticeship that shaped not only my work ethic but my understanding of integrity, power, and performance.

At the time, I was young ~ still finding my feet in the world — and the apprenticeship felt endless. Four years can seem like a lifetime when you’re a teenager watching your old school friends enjoy freedom and minimal responsibility. I was exhausted, stretched thin, and trying to prove myself in an environment that prized perfectionism over humanity.

Unlike many of my peers, I didn’t have strong family support to fall back on. My family had moved away, leaving me to live independently from the age of sixteen. I stayed behind to continue my apprenticeship, with no immediate family living in the same town. I often felt lost, lonely, and isolated ~ trying to navigate adulthood far too early. That lack of support made the wounding I experienced in my “work family” cut even deeper. When the place that was supposed to teach and guide me instead became a source of fear and rejection, it reinforced a message I’d already internalised ~ that I needed to survive on my own.

My employer was admired by many in the community. She was known for running a successful business, winning local awards, and being seen as a model citizen ~ someone who “never let the customers down.” Behind the scenes, though, there was a very different story. Her public charm was meticulously curated. Every smile, every accolade, every performance at business functions was designed to reinforce her image as the most honourable person around.

But for her staff, especially those of us still learning and growing, it was suffocating. Mistakes weren’t tolerated. Vulnerability was weakness. Rest was laziness. It was a culture where everyone learned to keep up appearances ~ to smile through exhaustion and hide any sign of struggle or marital despair.

When I began to falter under the weight of it all, I tried to speak honestly about how hard it was becoming. I wasn’t rebellious ~ just a young very independent human. I was struggling to get through the later stages of a long apprenticeship, feeling burnt out and unseen. But standing in my truth, even gently, had consequences. The subtle punishments began almost immediately: being left out of special team events, and the slow, silent treatment that speaks louder than words.

I’ll never forget the day I was told to come to work despite being clearly unwell, in the early stages of chicken pox ~ contagious.  It was the busy season, and the message was clear ~ the business’s image mattered more than my health. At the time, I didn’t have the words to name it, but now I understand it as a form of moral injury: being coerced into sacrificing my wellbeing for someone else’s reputation.

In hindsight, it was a textbook example of narcissistic leadership ~ a dynamic fuelled by image management, manipulation, and a need for admiration. Everything revolved around maintaining control and keeping up appearances. It wasn’t about people; it was about performance.

Decades later, as a therapist, I can see the deeper pattern at play. It wasn’t just a difficult boss ~ it was a system that rewarded compliance and punished authenticity. It demanded loyalty over wellbeing, silence over self-advocacy. The experience shaped me profoundly, teaching me what I would never replicate in my own professional life.

Standing in your truth doesn’t always bring applause. Sometimes it brings isolation. But it also brings clarity ~ a clear knowing that your worth isn’t measured by how much you can endure or how convincingly you can perform. It taught me that courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s choosing integrity even when it costs you belonging.

We may not be able to rewrite the past, but we can name it for what it was: a betrayal of care disguised as professionalism. When we bring these memories into the light, we reclaim power from the systems that once silenced us.

So if you’ve ever been shamed for speaking up, punished for being honest, or made to feel “too much” for your truth ~ know that your authenticity is not the problem. Your courage to stand in integrity, even when it was unsafe, was the beginning of your healing.

With, deep gratitude ~ Sonia