Hello there friends. I miss talking to you and I had a strange day so here is a quick note.
Going back to work today was hard, although everyone was mellow and kind. (My peeps from the last few years really saw me through some of these hard times, but we’ve had a big staff shuffle in my absence; most of my new coworkers don’t know me and don’t know my story.) By four hours in I was already flattened from all the used-to-be-my-normal human interaction. From having to be competent, and attentive, and friendly, and present. Turns out I am a lot less shelf-stable than I realized, or than you might think to look at me.
I also didn’t realize that work would be a bit of an emotional time capsule from three months ago. My “yesterday” at work is from March, so my emotional habits there are all out of date but they feel fresh and automatic. The day was bruised like an imported mango with little spots of anguished re-remembering that Val is gone. On break I’d reach for my phone with the long-ingrained habit of calling or texting her and then – Oh. I found myself squirreling away some of the funny moments in storytime because she loved hearing my storytime stories. And then I’d have to think, all over again – Oh. Oh damn. I don’t get to tell her this time.
D
you can tell us Debrium! please? we love you
So much love, Deborah. And I’m sorry for your fresh wounds.
damn indeed. love to you
Curse the big shift in employment for happening right before you came back to work.
My English teacher senior year was discussing the fact that we would soon be leaving our parents’ nests. “They might not cry when you first go,” he told us, “but later, when your laundry isn’t strewn across the bedroom, and your music isn’t playing loudly, interrupting their thoughts, that’s when they will cry.”
I have no idea how he knew this, at the time his son was three. But I think he hit the nail on the head.
First week of the new district and hundreds of staff changes — what a time to return to your branch! Know the feeling of returning to work and being flattened by what used to be normal. Sometimes I still reach for my phone to call my mom at noon. Taped to my computer monitor is a reminder to smile. Bruised mango is a good description of what grief can be like.