Oh no ... deep breath, grab a piece of paper and pen. Walking the distance from my office to the bathroom avoiding eye contact by appearing to be concentrated on my piece of paper; *groan* I picked up a catering menu! Need to look like I am really busy to avoid engaging with anyone who I might happen upon in the hallway. Few more steps, enter the bathroom and lean up against the door after safely locking the world out. The tears are finally free to roll releasing the pressure that has been building in my heart. I place my hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds so not to disturb others with my cries. As I stand in the bathroom, I wonder if the IT people would consider wiring the bathroom with connectivity to continue working while shedding my tears. I can just imagine how confusing that requisition would be; that is until they see who signed the request ... Respectfully submitted, The Grieving Widow.
Indeed, my supports are shrinking. It is now not only with whom I can openly grieve, but also my safe places. As time goes on, conversations that once were easy with certain individuals are now filled with pregnant pauses and awkward words. I find myself struggling between the expectation of others and of myself to be at peak performance. The reality is, tasks that I used to do without a thought now require a great deal of concentration because grief consumes me without consulting my schedule. It cares not that I have an important meeting, an important task to complete or unlike my grief, someone has actually had the courtesy to schedule time with me. As a professional, this is rather demoralizing; as a human being the shrinking world of acceptance and understanding is painful. Recent events now has me reduced to bawling in the bathroom.
Well done, Ginette; I know just how you feel.
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