There is a piece of me that feels I have disappointed people because my body is yelling at me and I had to step back from work. Let’s be real; I am disappointed in me.
I have always known this could happen. I just thought that page had turned now that our lives have been so quiet for so long. I haven’t had to jump in a car to help out an elderly parent for almost two years. There have been no ambulance chases or ICU visits for more than six years. I am just about finished another executing of a last will and testament for hopefully many years to come. Our kids are doing well enough. I was even really proud of work, feeling on top of things, it being my third year in a new programme. I felt my legs were solidly under me.
Then the perfect storm hit.
It hit at work; my safe place. You see, school or work were the places I could concentrate on something other than whatever medical emergencies or medical worries were at home. I could always count on being distracted there. I even found a place on a committee a few years back, that gave me a place to debate and discuss things; something I couldn’t do at home while my hubby was re-learning to talk after his last brain surgery.
It had been my safe place when I was a teen and there were medical emergencies at home. It had been my safe place when I needed distractions from the serious medical situation in my adult home.
Now, school is no longer my safe place.
Thankfully my home is.
Actually, there were people who were lovely and would have been helpful at work. Sadly, I never learned to share private thoughts, problems or feelings. My life had been so bizarre for so long; soap opera strange. It was overtaken by, at first, a taboo illness, then such an unusual one that no one would understand anyway. Add to that I am basically an intervert, I don’t share easily; not even with those close to me. That is where I added to this perfect storm and made it worse for me.
When things started turning sour, I tried to ride it out and kept it close to my chest. I assumed it had to stop sometime. It did. The day I left. At least what was getting to me stopped. Sadly, I am still feelings the effects.
Obviously I am not the only element. Had I known to speak up quickly at work, this may never have happened. But that is not who I am. I am the one that tells others we will be okay (because we will be). I am the one who walks first into ICUs, or rush home to make sure I would walk into an emergency before my kids got home from school.
The problem is how my mind works. I tend to try to understand the other person’s point of view or see their pain or fear. I fear hurting them so I take my time to react. (I can already hear voices pointing out times where I didn’t :))
Being quicker to respond is still a lesson I must learn. Talk about lucky I work in a school…
What life lessons keep coming back to you? .