It was hectic. I felt unappreciated and misunderstood. I was cranky. I've already worked 4 extra hours for the week. I was stressing.
I pulled out of it. Plastered the usual smile on my face. Reminded myself of what's important and what's not.
At one of my meetings today, we talked about Spirit Week and all the events and themes for that particular week coming up. What did we do last year? People were trying to recall. What should we do this year? And I remembered with a bit of a jolt that I was on the committee that planned last year's Spirit Week. And then... Spirit Week was when Rick died. So I never made it in to work that whole week. I missed the whole thing. I was transported back to remembering what I was doing then. Planning a funeral. Letting a disaster clean-up crew into my house. Holding on to Rick's brother from Florida and bawling my eyes out. Walking around like I was on a mission. Staying awake all night long every night. Picking out photos for boards for the funeral home. Calling all the companies to say: My husband died. My husband died. My husband died. Talking to the State Trooper. The coroner. Crying. Crying. Crying. Wow. What a different time.
It's the kind of memory you have to shake off. Like a chill.
The social worker I hired a year ago today posted the most adorable long post on Facebook about having grown so much as a social worker and thanking me for being an amazing and kind boss. It literally made me tear up and kind of redirect myself.
My day did not end on a good note, but as I left the building full of frustration, I ran into my old boss/executive director at a CVS on my way home. I hadn't seen her in a number of months. She came to Rick's funeral. I then had lunch with her and some former co-workers in the summer. We had exchanged a couple emails many months ago and I sent her a card when I learned her mother passed away. But I hadn't seen her in almost 9 months.
She hugged me and said how happy she was to see me. She told me I looked great and how glad she was that I was doing so well. We played catch up for about 20 minutes, filling each other in on things. She remarked again, in a fairly surprised manner, how great I looked and how glad she was I was doing so well.
I'm resilient, folks. Don't expect to see me crash and burn. I am full of life.
I walked out of CVS feeling 10 times better than when I'd walked in. It was so nice to be reminded that I am missed, that my "old life" still cares.
I drove home, took a hot shower to wash away all of the stress of the day, poured myself a glass of wine, and...breathed. I'm so ready for relief and love and happiness and comfort. I'm thankful for my resilience and hope.
I got this.
Dude, this is such a great post to read. I'm happy you recognize your resilience too. I'm certain that just adds to tour social worker superpowers
ReplyDeleteI know nothing about what you are going through but I do know loss and grief. And suffering. If there is anything I have witnessed in your writings, it's your hope for a brilliant future.
ReplyDeleteYou're right Arielle, you've got this :)
I am a long time reader. I was first drawn in by your other blog and I am a fellow cat lover and mental health counselor so I have followed along and have been silently reading your journals without commenting. Today, I thought I would leave a note because I am especially moved by your statement, "I'm resilient, don't expect me to crash and burn, I am full of life." What a powerful statement. I wish you all the best and thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings over the internet :). Best to you and your cats.
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