It is a horrible thing to feel unwanted... unappreciated.

To be told how to do your job, or why, is crushing for morale. I can feel the weight falling on me. That the people who once hired me now see me only as a puppet... a marionette to be played only as long as my strings stay attached. Like a Chinese finger trap, I can feel the restraints tightening the more I pull against them. With every breath out the constrictor wraps itself tighter around my duties and charges.
I can see why Pinnochio stirred up so much trouble. The powers that be cannot stand the puppet without his strings. Autonomy is shattered and abused back into it's proper place in line. The conformist is merciless.
Was I always a puppet? Was I hired for my pliability rather than for talent?

I do not mind struggling against my restraints and nipping at my blinders. But being expendable is difficult to swallow.
It only lasts so long to remind yourself that there are those who believe in your worth. The bad stuff is easier to believe. It simply plays into the all to familiar symphony that is the break down of self-esteem.

For me, the music of my dismantling is a hymn medley played in four/four time, neighborhood of B flat.