Nobody sees a flower, really, ...

... it is so small, it takes time. We haven't time. And to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time. – Georgia O’Keeffe

The end of the project at Linde also meant the end with this temporary employment agency - but I had met a Japanese guy who wanted to start a relocation agency for Japanese in Munich. Enthusiastically I joined him and his lady colleague…

… only to be put under so much pressure after only one week with demands and accusations that I didn't even understand, that I was soon afraid of every day in the office. I did not understand at all why he was so angry with me. Had he thought I could conjure up clients and real estate partners for him out of the nonexistent top hat? I had promised him nothing of the sort, and he had never said specifically what exactly he wanted me to do… Even before the first month was over, the climate had become so toxic that even the colleague didn't talk to me much anymore, and when he was there, not at all. A little later, I was handed my termination notice again.

And this time I was totally overwhelmed with everything. I just couldn't grasp it anymore. The thought of having to go to the unemployment office again was just too much. I buried myself at home and forgot about the days... that became weeks... And then, of course, the money was out. The only person I trusted enough to turn to for help was my old school friend Ute. And she didn't just help me financially. She didn't judge me. She listened to me. She understood. And then she said calmly but clearly: "You have to go to the employment office, as hard as it is. You have to. And you can!"

I don't know how to describe it... she helped me back on my feet, at least halfway. And she was after me, to put it this way: she called and followed up. And she gave me clear instructions on what I had to do - without condemnation, without ridicule, without rejection.

And amazingly, I was also received at the employment office without scorn or cynicism, but to my greatest surprise with compassion when I told the lady what bad luck I had had with the relocation startup.

A little later, it was again a temp agency, this time a global company, that hired me for a job as a secretary in a small department at BMW.

Now, BMW had and has an enormously good reputation in Bavaria, especially as an employer, and I thought I had finally, finally found a way. All these years I hadn't stopped believing that my qualifications and experience would somehow, someday, open any doors for me.

And so I started my new job with a lot of enthusiasm.

But this department was... it’s difficult to remember. The boss was one of those who had been "sidelined." The only thing he needed from me Monday through Friday was to make coffee twice a day. Once he had a phone conversation with the door open, saying things about people, other employees, that almost made my heart stop. I felt SO bad about this that I could hardly sleep at night - because I was somehow involved in his game! I was his secretary, and yes, occasionally he came out and had me do something... It was SO unbearable for me to possibly be involved in intrigues and lies and power games, although I as an external temp worker actually had nothing to do with it and could distance myself in every respect.

There were two groups in this department, one was all women, and they were all super sweet to me. The other group... with their team leader... I'll sum it up like this: more than once he picked me out to bully me, once he even went so far as to call my temp agency to complain about me, even though he actually had nothing to do with me. At every opportunity he expressed that I was "just temp work" and therefore inferior and stupid, sometimes directly in words. More than once I found myself crying at the women's office, where I found comfort and understanding.

The atmosphere in this office put such a strain on me that my already depressed state of mind worsened practically with each passing day. These depressions had developed insidiously. Today I know that I had them already as a teenager. Since I still rode my mountain bike a lot, I was able to keep it in check a bit. But every Sunday I got a stomach ache because of the fear of Monday.

The world I lived in became darker and darker. My trips with the bicycle became less and less, because I could not get out of bed. In my joyless office I also made more and more mistakes, that is, I forgot the little that was needed from me, too. There was a young intern with me, Heide. She brought laughter and sunshine, and I ran to the bathroom more than once a day just to cry.

And at some point I noticed the thought in the morning on the subway, it suddenly struck me: 'Just jump. And it's all over.' When I noticed that thought, I also noticed that I had been thinking that all week, if not longer.

And once, after such a day at the office, I came home in the evening and sat down on the floor without turning on the light. Not on the sofa. Not on a chair. On the floor. I leaned my back against the wall. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I felt as if something inside me had died.

For minutes or hours I sat like that in the dark. I no longer felt any life in me.

There I remembered my little niece. This wonderful little creature, who at barely five years old had already been to as many funerals as I had… earlier this year, yes, Grandma Rosa, to whom she had also had a connection…

And I suddenly knew that I could not also become a memorial photo on the cupboard. As if someone had been in the room and said to me, "The child needs you!"

I stood up and turned on the light.

The next day Heide and I left the office together. I think it must have been a Thursday. We were sitting in the subway, and all of a sudden it burst out of me, I even started to cry.

The young thing (Heide was barely 21 years old!) looked at me in dismay as I practically collapsed before her eyes. Then she straightened up.

"Didn't you tell me you met a psychotherapist last year when you were in pain therapy?" she began in a calm voice.

(I had done four weeks of pain therapy for the abdominal cramps the previous year).

I could only nod.

"Do you have her phone number?"

Again I could only nod.

"Call her! When you get home now, call her right away! Go there!" And she interrupted herself, "No, don't go: RUN!"

There was something urgent in her speech…

"Will you promise me that? Can you promise me that?"

Again I just nodded.

"Yes?" she echoed.

"Yes."

And she rose. The subway just stopped.

"I have to get out of here!" she said, and there she laughed again. She had a hearty laugh with which she was never stingy, and there was no one who did not like and respect her.

"Call there!" she said again and hurried out of the train car. From outside, she gave me another big smile and made the thumbs-up gesture.

I nodded, managed a smile, and held up my thumb as well.

And as promised, as soon as I got home, I picked up the phone and called the psychotherapist. Only her answering machine came on.

The very next morning she called back. Yes, she had room for me, she could already on Monday.

And I began psychotherapy with her, depth psychology talk therapy, as the behemoth is called in Germany. The diagnosis was moderate depression and mild narcissism.

Today I know that it was never narcissism, but autism - this is often confused, especially in women.

Yes, I believe in God, in a divine power.