Going Back to Work

~~Reflecting on Year One~~

First there was numbness, then the deep, raw crippling pain of grief, sadness and despair. But life doesn’t stop for you as you grieve. Eventually I had to go to work again. It was dreadful yet good for me at the same time. First of all, I needed the money. But I also think that the social interactions on the job, as excruciating as they were in the beginning, were beneficial to me. I’m convinced that, had I stayed home, the isolation would have amplified my grief and depression to a dangerous level.

So I went to work. I did what I needed to do, like a robot, just going through the motions, while begging my tears to wait until I was back home. Oftentimes I felt so removed from everything, like I was somewhere else. My body was there at work, but mentally I was with my husband. I was constantly thinking about him, every second of the day.

I made small talk, smiled, did my job. But it was all fake. Fake smile, fake cheerfulness, fake interest in anything. I got surprisingly good at pretending.

The real me was off in the world of grief. And all I wanted was to make it through the day somehow, and then the next day, and the next… And I think that’s about all you can do at first; breathe and take it one day at a time.