What happened by February 2022 was no longer simply a workers compensation dispute.
It had become a situation where I could not even reliably contact my own employer’s corporate services without barriers being placed in the way.
On 24 February 2022, after repeated failed attempts to obtain help, support, safety intervention, or even basic communication, I sent a message to the University’s “Respect. Now. Always.” crisis reporting service.
The service appeared primarily designed for students.
But where else was I supposed to go?
I had already reported concerns through internal channels. I had repeatedly raised psychosocial safety risks. I had begged for assistance regarding ongoing bullying, harassment, intimidation, privacy violations, and what I believed to be unlawful blocking of my phone number from corporate services and key university contacts.
And still nothing meaningful changed.
By this stage, I was no longer simply distressed by the original workplace harm.
I was becoming traumatised by the response to it.
The silence.
The obstruction.
The refusal to engage.
The refusal to restore safe communication.
The refusal to implement basic injury management obligations.
The refusal to stop conduct that was actively escalating psychological harm.
In that message, I described what had been happening to me for years. I described the impact of HR executives and WHS staff who, instead of protecting safety, had become part of the machinery causing harm.
I wrote about being isolated from my workplace community after two decades of service.
I wrote about being blocked from contacting people who held responsibility for governance, ethics, and safety.
I wrote about the psychological impact of being cut off from support while still trying — desperately — to cooperate with recovery processes and statutory obligations.
Most disturbingly, I raised concerns about telecommunications blocking being used in a way that intensified distress and isolation.
That is extremely important to recognise because psychosocial harm does not occur only through overt aggression.
It also occurs through systemic isolation.
Through silence.
Through obstruction.
Through forcing a worker into a position where they can no longer access communication pathways, support structures, or even basic human reassurance that somebody is listening.
What people often fail to understand about prolonged psychological injury is that communication itself becomes critical to safety.
When somebody is already traumatised, removing avenues of contact does not calm the situation.
It escalates it.
And yet, despite repeatedly explaining my distress, despite repeatedly asking for lawful injury management processes, despite clearly articulating that I needed support and coordinated recovery, I continued to encounter barriers instead of assistance.
The message itself reflected exhaustion.
I explained that I had “begged and begged and begged” for contact and support consistent with workers compensation obligations, my Injury Management Plan, and recommendations from my nominated treating doctor and treating professionals that had never been properly implemented.
That sentence still haunts me. It should never reach the point where a worker has to beg for obligations already required under law.
A psychologically safe workplace is not supposed to depend on how much suffering someone can endure before another human being finally responds.
And what becomes deeply confronting looking back now is this:
I was still trying to engage.
Still trying to cooperate.
Still trying to communicate.
Still trying to return safely to work.
Even after years of harm.
Even after escalating trauma.
Even after repeated failures by governance, HR, WHS, insurer systems, and regulators.
I was still asking for lawful process and basic humanity.
IT IS MY HUMAN AND EMPLOYEE RIGHT. GENERALLY PROTECTED WORKPLACE RIGHTS.
One part of the exchange particularly stayed with me.
After the crisis service offered to call me, I immediately clarified:
“I’m NOT at risk of harming myself.”
I clarified that because I understood how easily trauma, exhaustion, and distressed communication can be misinterpreted when somebody is under severe psychological strain.
That is another reality people do not speak about enough.
Cognitive overload.
Trauma fatigue.
The way prolonged stress affects concentration, wording, memory, and communication clarity.
The way one missing word can suddenly shift meaning entirely.
And instead of recognising those realities as indicators of injury and overload, organisations often use them against workers as evidence of instability rather than evidence of harm.
What I needed was intervention.
Protection.
Communication.
Coordination.
Lawful injury management.
A safe pathway back to work.
What I experienced instead was continued isolation.
At the same time, I was also trying to force senior leadership to confront the contradiction between the university’s public ethical identity and the reality of what was happening internally.
I wrote separately during this period:
“It’s important for Identity and Ministry to read the stories.”
Because this was never simply about policy language or mission statements.
It was about whether leadership would actually act when a worker reported harm.
Whether ethics existed only in public messaging, or whether they existed when protecting somebody vulnerable became inconvenient.
I had already lost faith in many systems by this point, but I still had not stopped trying to reach people.
That is the part many organisations never acknowledge when these situations become public years later.
Workers do not usually “go public” first.
Most spend years trying desperately to resolve things internally.
Quietly.
Respectfully.
Lawfully.
Repeatedly.
Until the silence itself becomes another form of harm.
And the institutionalised wage theft continued…
Source: contemporaneous record of events - Documents 267 and 269
—
Psychological Safety in Academia Is Still Being Ignored
What happened to me is not isolated.
Across universities globally, there is increasing recognition that psychological safety in academia is often spoken about publicly while being poorly protected institutionally.
An article published by The Varsity in 2023 observed that people who report misconduct or raise concerns within academic environments are frequently punished rather than protected. The article highlights how fear, silence, retaliation, and institutional power dynamics continue to undermine genuine psychological safety in universities.
That reality deeply reflects my own experience.
Psychological safety is not simply about wellbeing language, public campaigns, or institutional branding. It is about whether people can safely speak up, report harm, ask for help, and participate in workplace processes without fear of punishment, exclusion, humiliation, obstruction, or retaliation.
By February 2022, I was no longer experiencing psychological safety.
I was experiencing the consequences of its absence.
Further reading:
Borthakur, D. (2023, 22 October). ‘Opinion: Psychological safety in academia is overlooked - The silent scourge of academic bullying and institutional betrayal.’ The Varsity. [Online]: https://thevarsity.ca/2023/10/22/opinion-psychological-safety-in-academia-is-overlooked/
