I took yesterday off. Up at 4 a.m. I mostly spent the day listening to sad music and looking at photographs of Adam. I wept. I don't think I realized the toll "holding it together" was taking on me until a full day with nothing planned and no one around lay before me. I did invite a friend over at 10:00 for coffee, one who knows something about grief. That was a good call on my part, but I now realize there is always an internal pressure to stop the tears when someone is there, and apologize, stupid as I know it is.
The rest of the day I just let everything pour out. The sobbing, wracking tears didn't stop for long until I went to bed, medicated, knowing I had to sleep in order to finish my work week. "Holding it together" for me has seemed easier than you would think. Looking a young man in the eye and asking him about his suicide attempt without flinching. Explaining to a child who lost his father that grief can hit you when you're not expecting it. Listening to a mother's valid concerns and helplessness about her adult child's mental health. Weekly crisis staffings. All in a day's work. By the external looks of it, I am unfazed. And truthfully, I have cut myself off emotionally more than I ever thought possible. My co-workers must think I am made of granite.
I believe I would have to employ the same coping mechanisms in any job, cutting off emotionally in order to function, but I hadn't considered the cumulative effect the level of suppression involved in doing my particular job might be having.
I don't know how this story is going to turn out. Staying home for an extended period or quitting my job certainly wasn't the answer as yesterday proved, much as I needed the release and the space to mourn.
2 comments:
I honestly cannot imagine what you're going through, Susan, but I'm certain that your writing it down like this has got to be cathartic. Keep telling your story. We all need to hear it.
Thank you for sharing. It helps others to understand a little.
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