Impatience

I went to work yesterday for the first time in five months. I took the bus in, ran a small errand before entering the office. Brad was there, the research assistant. I talked to him for a while about the study, and what he was learning, who had recidivated, and whether the strengths-based model we were using had any effect on keeping people from relapsing or being re-incarcerated. We concluded that Central City Concern’s mentor program was a more robust model.

He then left for Salem and I sat down at my desk. I went through some email and opened and closed the drawers of my desk. I looked online at some relevant websites to the study. I thought about watering the plants, but it seemed like a lot of effort. I realized that I was really tired. I wasn’t ready to make my brain work. I wasn’t ready to be at work. I was really disappointed.

Today would be another chemo day if I were still doing chemo. I’m six weeks out from my last treatment. If I wasn’t on layoff status (which means I can work or not until actual layoff and still get paid) I would have been scheduled to begin full time work on April 2nd. An hour and a half was as much as I could handle yesterday.

Prior to my surgery and treatment, a typical day would start at 5:30 am, with aerobics or yoga or weightlifting, then I’d get ready for work, eat breakfast, make a lunch for myself, hop on my bicycle and ride 4 ½ miles to work. I’d then work a full day, often eating at my desk because I had so much going on, then leave at 5 pm or so, and would usually have a class or meeting in the evening. All that seems so impossible now.

I had a class last night, the last of a ten week series called Mind/Body at Project Quest. I was feeling sad and out of sorts from my earlier experience, being unable to work even a half day. The woman next to me was wearing some sort of perfume. It wasn’t particularly strong but I started feeling sicker and sicker. I tried to stay in the room, but my head ached and I finally had to leave. I was frustrated by my fragility. I’ve been feeling upset ever since. I went to a writing class today and wrote a very depressed little piece that I was too upset to read. I’m processing a lot of loss right now. The biggest lost is my energy and how that defines my sense of self.

I went on line, just looking at the job possibilities. I found a job that intrigued me, but I’m not going to apply for it. It’s too much and I’ve promised myself to wait a couple of months. I want to rush to the next thing but it isn’t the time yet.

I keep trying to look for the gifts in this situation. The freedom to attend writing classes and art classes and do the crossword puzzle in the morning, the freedom to slow down, to process, to grieve losses, to meditate, to draw, to lie in bed after waking for as long as I’d like, these are the advantages. It’s time to appreciate these and not go pushing the river, trying to get back on my feet before I’m ready.