Where’s 2002?
“Where’s 2002?” My pup cocked his head and stared at me as he typically does when I try to engage him in conversation. Each Christmas for the past 26 years, I’ve added an ornament to the tree that is dated for that year. Many of the ornaments are reflective of events or sentiments that marked their particular year. I hadn’t lost one yet and wasn’t about to start. But where was it? I was in the process of taking the tree down and had found every keepsake except that one. I hadn’t forgotten to hang it. I had the empty box as evidence. It hadn’t fallen and broken, because it was made of metal. The disappearance of the 2002 ornament led me to think about the year itself, recalling that it had been one of the most tumultuous years of my life. I’d gotten divorced and had struggled with all of the fallout – emotional, spiritual, financial, and legal. I had to take care of two children, relocate, and manage my own internal upheaval while working full-time. At the time, I’m not sure I would have been able to tell you how I was navigating 2002. I was spiritually grounded; and, though mostly long distance, I had a good support system. I now realize that keeping busy was a great distraction, especially the busyness of my professional life. Most of my co-workers had no idea that I was going through a divorce. The few who were aware did not realize the acute pain that I was experiencing. I accomplished quite a bit in the workplace that year as my professional endeavors were within the realm of elements that I had control over, while other parts of my life seemed to be in a tailspin.
There are, however, times when there is no escape from turmoil that is either internally or externally driven, and our work life stands to be negatively impacted. Enter 2021. Feeling replenished from two weeks of a holiday staycation, I began the new year with a short-list of professional goals, along with well-crafted plans for meeting them. On January 6th I hit a wall. Wednesdays tend to be one of my most heavily scheduled days of the week and the 6th was no exception. The day proved to be so busy that a couple of hours passed without my picking up my phone (not a record for me, but still longer than is typical). When I did come up for air, I found a string of text messages from friends and family, and alerts from every news outlet I subscribe to – the U.S. Capitol had been stormed! Though, I am proud of having served in the U.S. military (I’d do it again if called), I don’t consider myself to be a superpatriot, and I often struggle when the country’s practices appear to conflict with the ideals it was founded upon. But, storming the Capitol with Congress in session knocked me off my feet, and it’s taken nearly three weeks for me to get back up to speed.
Unlike my experiences in 2002, my mind has not been on my work, and I have some ideas as to why. Perhaps most important is the context. Between the protracted, conflict-ridden election season and the COVID-19 pandemic, stressors have been piled on top of each other, and like everyone, I have my limits. The pandemic has also altered my work setting. I currently work in relative isolation from others in a home office. During previous times of national crisis, e.g., 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina, I recall having formal and informal conversations with my colleagues. As mental health providers, we came together to process the emotional impact of the events of the day on our patients, on ourselves, and on our occupational practices. In my first blog post, as you may recall, I spoke of the joys of working alone. I am now experiencing one of the downsides of working in isolation. I don’t have co-workers that I can walk across the hall and check in with. There is no breakroom in which to discuss the day’s events over lunch or a cup of coffee. I find that text messages and phone calls, even with colleagues, tend to interrupt the flow of my work, and don’t provide the same level of comfort and support that face-to-face interactions do. Relationships with co-workers, especially work friends, may be less intimate than our other relationships, but are no less sustaining.
In the absence of the physical presence of my work family, and no interest in or energy for yet another Zoom or Teams meeting, even for the purpose of support, I’ve had to manage things on my own. And, to be perfectly honest, some days have been better than others. I’ve adjusted suspense dates when wandering thoughts interfered. I’ve turned off the video during meetings when an interesting newspaper article or social media post seemed to call me. While I continue to maintain a schedule and to “dress” for work, I’ve given myself permission for creative breaks that may include a call to a friend, listening to a short podcast, dancing to an old disco hit, reading a poem, or taking the dog out for a breather. I also allow myself news breaks. With so much happening around us, and so quickly, my stress level would be greater if I disconnected totally during an eight-hour workday. So, I’m not going to beat up on myself for being human. Nor, should you.
By the way, I found the 2002 ornament nearly hidden close to the trunk of the tree. It is inscribed, “Let the light within you shine on and on and on!”
Recent Comments