When Silence Speaks Louder Than Words: Surviving Workplace Bullying and Reclaiming My Power
- Nene Sterling-LS
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read

The past year has been the most challenging chapter of my professional life.
As a Programme Manager in the NHS with a nursing background, I’ve always taken pride in showing up with integrity, empathy, and a drive to deliver impact. However, nothing quite prepared me for the experience I faced in my last role - one that gradually eroded my confidence and made me question my value.
It didn’t have a name at first. I just knew something felt off.
The silence. The exclusion. The subtle ways I was sidelined from conversations and opportunities that once fuelled my growth. Tasks were removed without explanation. Learning and development dried up. Feedback vanished. I found myself isolated, deskilled, and invisible—still present, but no longer included.
It wasn’t until a post popped up on my LinkedIn feed that it hit me: this is workplace bullying.
Not the overt kind. Not shouting or name-calling. But a quieter, more strategic form: withholding information, excluding someone from the loop, and setting them up to fail. It’s just as harmful, and often much more challenging to prove.
The Role I Once Loved
Before this shift, my role was dynamic and fulfilling. I led the PMO Team for a major programme—collaborating with cross-functional teams, representing senior leadership, and ensuring we delivered with clarity and purpose.
I was responsible for:
Governance: Leading on the reporting to Programme Boards, aligning KPIs, and streamlining reporting across teams.
Tools & Templates: Creating a robust library of standardised documents to ensure consistency across projects.
Planning: Supporting work areas with plans, milestones, tracking, and implementation.
Equalities: Ensuring the programme met EDI duties, producing Equality and Health Inequality Impact Assessments, and running staff EDI training.
Risk: Managing threats and opportunities through the CoreStream platform and risk reporting.
Benefits: Developing a framework to measure impact for staff, patients, and the wider system.
This work was full-on, collaborative, and incredibly rewarding. It was a role that stretched me, inspired me, and aligned with my values. It was a role in which I was supported in learning.
And then it was taken away—not through formal dismissal, but through silence, exclusion, and the slow erosion of my involvement, following the third restructuring in five years.
What Workplace Bullying Can Look Like
Workplace bullying isn’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes, it’s a quiet campaign of exclusion and control, masked as "oversight" or "miscommunication." Here's what it looked like for me:
The silent treatment—being excluded from meetings, conversations, and updates that directly impacted my work.
De-skilling occurs when responsibilities are removed without explanation, development opportunities are not offered, and growth is not encouraged.
1:1 supervision was constantly cancelled—and never rescheduled—leaving me without guidance, support, or space to raise concerns.
Being blocked from progression, including not being approved for courses, not being signed off for my appraisal, effectively denying me my salary increment, and professional recognition.
Withholding communication or information that made success impossible and failure inevitable.
Each of these acts, on its own, might seem small. But together? They form a pattern of psychological harm designed to isolate, undermine, and disempower.
That’s why it’s so important to name it for what it is: bullying. Not bad management. Not a “busy schedule.” Bullying, plain and simple.
How I Survived (And You Can Too)
If you're reading this and it resonates with you, please know that you're not alone. And you don’t have to stay silent. Here’s what helped me survive—and begin to move on:
1. Name It
There’s power in identifying what’s happening. When I realised I was being bullied—not “overreacting” or “imagining things”—I began to reclaim my narrative.
2. Document Everything
It is advised that you keep a record of incidents, emails, and exclusions. Not just for evidence, but as a way to validate your own experience. As a blogger, I have decided to share my experiences through blogging.
3. Reclaim My Narrative and My Power
Instead of letting that role define me, I chose to define myself:
I published a book on NMC revalidation, guiding fellow nurses through their journey (available on Amazon).
I earned a Certificate in Coaching, stepping into a space where I could uplift and empower others. (click to request coaching support)
I designed and delivered online caregiver training, staying connected to my passion for service.
I learned new digital skills, expanding my toolkit for the future.
And I launched my podcast, Care and Wellness Connection, creating a safe space for conversations around wellbeing, caregiving, and navigating professional life with compassion.
Each of these actions was a quiet revolution—a way of saying: You may have tried to silence me, but I am still speaking. Still growing, still becoming.
4. Build a Life Outside of Work
This part saved me. Having passions and projects beyond my job (listed above), reminded me that my identity isn’t limited to my title or team at work. I am more than any workplace could define.
5. Seek Support
I leaned on trusted colleagues, mentors, and external communities. Whether through coaching, therapy, or simple conversation, it helped me feel seen again.
6. Know When to Walk Away
Sometimes, leaving is the most courageous thing you can do. Staying in a toxic space comes at a high cost. Walking away isn’t giving up—it’s choosing yourself.
Final Thoughts
Workplace bullying doesn’t always wear a name badge. Sometimes it whispers instead of shouting. But its impact can be just as deep.
If you’ve ever felt stripped of your confidence, isolated in your role, or unseen in a space where you once thrived, know this:
✨ You are not alone.✨ You are not imagining it.✨ And you have the right to choose yourself again and again.
I’m still healing and still rebuilding. But I’m proud to say I’ve reclaimed my narrative—and I’m holding the door open for anyone else who needs to walk through.
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