The Sweet Bitterness

On Sunday, my previous coworker Rose texted me to say that Sunday's just weren't the same without me.

I might have shed a tear or two.  She told me that I would never be forgotten because I had a beautiful soul.  I definitely shed a tear or two.  

On Monday, another previous coworker, Jill, texted me to ask how I was doing.  I definitely ugly cried after I told her how lonely I was and how there was no one to hug or touch or be vulnerable with.

Over the past few days, an entirely different coworker was  talking about her own mental health struggles and I monopolized the conversation to focus on my needs. She asked me if I was "happy"... 

... and that is where the sweet bitterness floods my mouth, my words, my heart, my mind... and my soul.

I am many things - and right now one of the things I am is an ADULT.

I work a job that pays the bills... 

I work a NEW job that pays the bills that have inflated due to Covid and Life and These Times.

Am I happy?  Do I even have the right to be?  The luxury of being?

no.  no I don't.

So am I happy?  

I am grateful, dammit.  Grateful. 

I am a grateful ADULT.

That has to be enough right now, because I'm grateful for so many things...

Grateful to work a job that has me indoors, sitting, and face-to-face with consumers, and challenges my brain and creates new synapses; I'm grateful to have a job that is more than the one before, that offers me potential.  I'm grateful to be employed, with security, and to be able to provide consistent income for my family, as humbly as we live.

But am I happy?

I WAS the cheerful one, the one who spoke encouragement and support, the one who rubbed their tense shoulders and told them they were amazing... I WAS the one who told bad jokes and announced silly happy announcements over the PA.  I WAS the one who listened to Worship Music on Sundays with my Rosie... I WAS.... and now I ....  I am.

I am not yet a part of the puzzle, the group, the foundation.  I am not yet the cheerful one who holds your secrets and your vulnerabilities.  I am not yet the one who goes to the manager to protect you, to protect our unit, to protect our family... I am ... "now"... and I am unsettled... but still searching for my place.

It is this sweet spot, of "was" and "could be"... and the bitterness within it, where I currently balance my soul and my heart and my emotion.  I don't like it... this bitter-sweet spot... but I will swallow it every moment of every day until it finally becomes just... sweet.

If you pray, please pray that the "sweet" comes soon because the bitterness is hurting me, its hard to swallow, its making me cry and wallow and argue against the joy that is hovering, potentially, for me to embrace.

If you don't "pray" - then send me your vibes, your energy, you thoughts and wishes and hopes... I need them all.

The Beginding, with Jenni

 Hey Jenni...

Today is the "day before my last day" on W1.  

I'm having a hard time leaving W1 because it is my only true connection to you.  I have your plants, your advice, the memories of you... but being around the other people who also feel the loss of you, who remember what it was like to work with you, hang out with you, and who remember the day your dad called to tell us you were gone, the people who mourned and grieved side by side over losing you - I feel like I need them to keep me tied to you; so... leaving them is really hard, but I'm doing it anyway.  

We all battled Covid together, Jenni, on W1. 

In the beginning, we were all of us, on W1, terrified and stressed and battling this fucking virus together in masks and gowns and gloves, slathered in sanitizer and fear.  On W1, we parented together, cried and cursed together, we told inappropriate jokes together.  We survived together.  We were all connected and bonded in ways no other coworkers outside of a hospital ever could be because of that fucking virus.  Until you died.  

Then we did it all without you; because we didn't have a choice.  We battled on without your wit and wisdom and care and sass and sarcasm.  We missed you, your stories about Lyvie, we still miss her now even... and tomorrow is my last day to be surrounded by all of the people who loved you and grieved the loss of you.  After tomorrow, I will grieve you on my own.  I'm not sure I'm cut out to handle it alone, but I will do it anyway because that kind of strength is an honor to your own srength.

Today I played with my/our plants.  I repotted, I refreshed soil, I watered and sprayed and wiped Neem oil on leaves.  I brought the indoor plants that I put outside, back inside.  I talked to and sang to and made promises to ever single one.  I planted newly rooted cuttings I had growing in water in my windows.  I embraced the growth and life and propagation.  I felt you, Jenni, in the funny way I referred to bottom watering as "butt chugging", and in the way I named the few little gnats I saw flying around, and how I named my most dramatic plant "Karen".  That plant is the one I bought from you as a gift for my son and his wife (um, now she's his ex but thats a whole different story friend!) but that I loved so much I kept.  She's pretty dramatic tho Jen, she likes to pretend to die randomly, and then return to full glory only after I've done EVERY SINGLE THING so I'm never sure exactly what it is that she wants.  Heh... maybe I should name her after myself?? 

If you were here, you'd tell me to suck it up, to move on, to do what is best for myself and my family.  Except, you'd say it over a glass of wine while Lyv bossed Griff around in my yard, or while we were talking late late at night while everyone else was asleep.  Then we'd laugh and laugh and tell stories about work and vent about life and exchange info about plants, about budgeting, about ex's and moving forward... until we had to hang up.  I guess I'm hanging up Jenni... for now.

I'm leaving W1 but only in body.  My heart and soul will always be there, with yours, and I hope they keep remembering you and your life and your joy and ethic and sass.  

Tomorrow is my "beginding"  the beginning and the end of something soul shattering and life changing and forever impactful.  Thank you for being part of it all my friend...