… And on Day Seven, the feeling of dread began to descend.
Now that the Week of Me is almost over, I am starting to panic a bit– putting more pressure on myself to be totally 100% fine again. By today. Or by tomorrow. But preferably by yesterday.
I’m not sure if this pressure is originating solely from me (i.e. that a Deadline To Get Well is completely imagined on my part), or if other people (like, say… my colleagues at work) are tapping their feet impatiently and wondering when I’ll be able to get over everything already. After all, compared to life in the slums of South America, my life is just peachy. And think of the starving children in Africa!
A week doesn’t feel like enough time.
It’s not like I am wholly unstable or extremely volatile. At all. I’ve just been feeling unsettled and cautious and (like that horrible movie from the 90s once said) like I’m waiting to exhale. (Oh, Whitney– you serve me so well!) Losing Robertina was a big deal to me. So was moving. And so was moving again a week later. I just need some time to chill out and to have all those icky feelings work their way up from inside the depths of me, back out into the air where they belong. Away from me.
You know, the last time we moved (i.e. back in 2006– not the Metchosin move), I was dealing with a lot of stress and baggage, too. I had recently finished my soul-sucking master’s degree program and had also just miscarried in Calgary, but what saved me in the end was having some time to hang out in our new apartment and allow myself to get bored before looking for work. I just lived. Sure, we didn’t have a billion dollars in our bank accounts and yes, finances were tighter, but in retrospect, that time was perfect for me. Just chillin’.
I kind of feel like I need that sort of time again, but compared to 2006, there is a lot more involved. I am invested in my work, and my colleagues are also invested in me. Our rent is higher. I don’t have any big, legitimate excuse to use as a shield (e.g. “I need to leave my job so I can establish a clinic in the far reaches of Nepal”, or “I will be pursuing a Ph.D. in the southernmost corners of New Zealand; therefore, I must go”.) I just want to pause, that’s all.
I know I’m getting carried away again, allowing my mind to run off into some imagined future and to find all sorts of reasons to panic. Maybe these feelings will pass later on today or tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll be just fine going to work again on Monday.
But maybe the seeds that I’ve planted during this Week of Me will start to sprout and encourage me to grow in a different direction.
Only time will tell.