I write this post after a short two week break from work - not so much a vacation but a family leave that I took to look after my family, and by family, I kinda mean my mom but mostly I mean me.
As a complete workaholic, it was a dicey move and one that, unlike essentially everything I do, was made quickly. As a friend said to me, "I'm worried for you; this could go either way." Meaning, this could be a disaster. Maybe distraction was the only thing keeping me together. I had the same thought. But as I stood on a Manhattan street at 9 pm on a Tuesday night overwhelmed and crying and with one phrase repeating over and over again - "I can't" - for someone who always CAN, I knew something had to give and for the first time in my life, I identified that something as work.
When you self-identify as strongly as I do around your work and qualities relating to work - hardworking, smart, reliable, etc. - pulling that away for a bit, even for as short a period as I did, can leave you reeling. But I really had no choice. Not only did my mother need me as she has been really sick for a long time and is now reaching the end of her journey, but I needed me. I needed me for mundane things like, "How about we do this laundry that isn't doing itself" and "Maybe we should find some foods that aren't cheese..." but also for big things like, "How do I feel about what's happening?" I needed to feel some feels and put a name to them instead of sitting in my office all day crying so much that my under eye bags got chapped. Did you know that can happen? Neither did I.
"Go back to work," my mom said, "You'll get fired. And it's not like this is going to happen overnight." "This" being dying. But it might and I wasn't willing to take that chance. At the worst, taking this time was going to give me a few more days to spend with my mom that I wouldn't have had, and I would have time to do laundry so I would have clean underwear to wear. I knew I wouldn't regret either of those things. And I'm very lucky. I work for an employer with a generous family leave policy, which meant that do this and not put myself in danger of being out of work or penalized.
Taking some time also helped me make some order out of chaos - even if order is just an illusion. As my mom said, "We're smart women and we try to control everything, and a lot of things we have been able to control being smart and working hard, but this we can't control." I look to her doctors for answers and wish I had a crystal ball. Someone asked me what a crystal ball would do for me, why I would want to know. If I had one, I would know that I can go see a 3 hour movie and shut my phone off and know it's OK, or I can maybe sleep through the night tonight. It wouldn't make later much better but it might make now a little more livable. Or maybe it wouldn't, I don't know. The last thing I want her to feel is guilty that we are all worrying but it's inevitable because I am just not that emotionally healthy enough to live this much in the moment. And, as I keep saying, it's payback for the last 50 plus years she's spent worrying as a mother. All her doctors can say is she's already lived beyond what they thought she would, so they have nothing to contribute to this debate and here I was thinking they were captaining the team. I read into comments that are probably innocuous. So, why doesn't she need to make a follow-up appointment? Do you think she'll die before then, would that be about in six weeks' time? Or are you just trying to make her life easier and save her the trip when there's not much more you can do?
This time has also helped me process some of my emotions. I was at acupuncture the other day and had a vision of me holding lemons. I know it sounds weird, but when you stop and truly let your mind quiet down - something I never do - random things happen. And I realized I've spent a lot of the past several months feeling angry and isolated. Bitter, sour. Mad at life, mad at the situation, mad at people. Friends who say or do the wrong thing, or, worse, nothing at all. If it's one thing I've learned going through this it's that doing something - anything - is always the best thing. There have been times when I haven't known what I wanted or needed and so I have been in no position to ask for what I need, because I can't identify it, although the closest name I can put to it is reassurance. Reassurance that people care and are there and silence doesn't help that one bit. People mean well but saying, "Let me know what you need" is not really helpful but I'm guilty of it too. It's what we do when we don't know what else to do. I just said it to someone earlier today. Being present helps, giving the gift of attention and care although that's admittedly so hard for any of us to do with so many demands - both virtual and real; we've all got our own stuff. I'm learning to appreciate those who have stepped up and are around, those who are clearly trying, while keeping a careful eye and an open heart toward those who have disappeared or stayed away. Resentment won't help this process and I'd rather have lemonade than a fistful of lemons.
I'm surprised when I can handle conversations about her wishes after she dies (cremation, short service, nice lunch afterward maybe on the water) and how to get rid of her things (take what we want and then let anyone we know take what they want, you never know when someone needs a spatula and why should they have to buy one when we have a perfectly good one here) - but then fall apart at random moments like when I'm asked to fill in my emergency contact person's information on a form. It doesn't seem like a good idea to choose her and yet I always have so it seems wrong to choose someone else, you know, while she's still here, but will that mean when I fly off my SoulCycle bike and end up in a full body cast, I'll end up rotting in the hospital until finally someone at work realizes I should have shown up a few days ago? I know that's a crazy talk, especially since you need to actually go to SoulCycle for that to happen. We laugh that maybe she didn't need to buy a 20 pack of toilet paper (something else to throw out after she's gone) and think of my grandmother who would only buy single rolls of toilet paper for the last 30 years of her life, always reasoning, "I'll be dead before I go through that much toilet paper!"
Mostly this time has helped me realize that even though the death of a loved one is universal, it is really effing hard. Nothing prepares you for it. It doesn't matter how many times you get to say goodbye. And there's not much that anyone can say or do to make it better. But you have to try to do whatever you can to make the process as bearable as possible, especially when it's a marathon not a sprint. Some things will work, like exercising and sleeping more, and the occasional brownie, and withdrawing when you feel the need to in favor of watching Scandal vs putting on a happy face and forcing small talk. Some won't, like a second brownie or that last glass of wine or talking to the friend who never says the right thing because she sure as Hell won't all of a sudden won't say it now and you'll be left wishing you stayed home with Scandal and a second brownie.
We have a choice in letting these situations make us harder or softer, not second brownie soft but the kind where you are open to all the feels, even the awful, devastating, terrifying ones. I'm still stripping away all of the brittle armor I've built up over the past few months - the scar tissue of pretending things are okay when they aren't while refusing to ask for help. Two weeks is just not enough time to get to the marshmallow center but I'm closer and I feel like I can breathe again. For now, anyway.
And now the real challenge begins in not letting it build up again.
