Image via WikipediaAfter Roman died I returned to work almost immediately. It wasn't that I felt particularly ready to return, I just did not know what else to do with myself. Plus I figured, if I stayed home alone every day, with my mom back up in Washington and my friends busy with full-time jobs of their own, that I was likely to lose my mind; or at the very least, become agoraphobic, or obese, or a hard core gasoline huffer. And while those three options sounded tempting, given my recently incurred psychological concussion, I decided it was most productive to simply return to the daily grind. So off to work I went.
Immediately once I returned, I noticed that my mind was not functioning as it had been only two weeks prior, when Roman was still alive. Waking up in the morning became a battle unlike anything I had known before. Sure, mornings and I were never BFF's. Still, I always managed to wake when the tiny voice in my head noticed the alarm and shouted, "Hey! Yo! Get the F up, lazy!" But somehow that obnoxious voice that I had attempted to tune out so many mornings before, was notably absent. Like it went out for drinks one night and just never came back. And I don't drink, so I couldn't imagine where it might have gone. Of course, now I know...it fell victim to that cognitive concussion I mentioned. Only then, so soon after my emotional injuries, I didn't know I had said concussion at all.
Once I eventually dragged myself out of bed, I made a B-line to my new Breville espresso maker that I recently purchased the previous April. Being a long time coffee addict, I was giddy with excitement when I brought home this smooth crema extracting, stainless steel, espresso dripping, machine of the Gods. It looked beautiful in my kitchen and it provided rich caffeinated deliciousness any time I wanted. What's more, back in those days, I liked to cook, and considered my espresso brewing to be something of an extension of my newly acquired culinary venture. And oh, how I enjoyed trying new gourmet blends from Whole Foods and mixing them with various flavors of Torani syrup; but ultimately, it was the simple vanilla flavor that won me over. It made for a cup of Joe that was akin to a giant cup of love, welcoming me into its nurturing arms each morning. And that was all before Roman died. So after he died, my morning brews became a creature comfort that I enjoyed more than ever. It was warm, comforting, and yummy - but more importantly, it was HIGH OCTANE.
It would have been fantastic if I would have had time to enjoy my coffee in the mornings, but after my string of losses, I struggled so much waking up, that I was almost always running late for my morning IEP meetings. Further, these meetings often began at 7:30 am and they took me about an hour to drive to, because I lived so far away from my workplace. So my mornings usually amounted to gulping down my coffee, taking the world's fastest shower, slapping on some make up, putting my hair in a styleless, half-loop pony tail, getting dressed and then rushing out the door like a tornado.
By the time I arrived at work, I was mostly awake, but still lagging. I did my best to labor through my meetings and not to show others how tired I was. It's not as though I needed to hide it back then though. I mean, everyone was surprised that I returned to work so soon after Romans death. Even with none of my colleagues having the slightest idea about Roman's lies and his cheating, most people were more than willing to help me out at that time, just on the knowledge that I had lost my husband. And their outpouring of support was not lost on me - I really appreciated it. But as I said, I couldn't stay home by myself all day, so I felt I had no choice other than to chug right along and get back to normal in an effort to get over all of the trauma. Likewise, at least at work I had a purpose and could interact with people, so as not to get totally lost in my grief. I was certain that while work was a challenge, it was the best thing for me.
Looking back now, I still feel that my choice to return was right. I do think that staying home alone was a recipe for disaster. Although, work too, was not without it's setbacks. Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that a couple of my coworkers at that time, were the exception to the rule, and had little regard for my loss. They were just as demanding and entitled as ever. In fact, I might even go so far as to say they were worse, but that could just be because they were demanding at a time when I had less to give.
One of them used to come to my office door every morning during her planning period, and just stand there without speaking. I could see her out of my peripheral vision as I sat working (as much as I could) on reports. As soon as I saw her it was like a big wet sorry blanket had been rudely cast over me, because she never failed to open her daily greeting with something droll like, "Shoot me," or "Welcome to my world," once I acknowledged her standing there. Yeah, it was neat. She was a delightful ray of sunshine.
Now, I know what you are thinking, readers...You're thinking, hellz yessssssss...coworkers like that are super awesome! I have energy to spare...hey, sign me up!!
But wait, before you get too excited - there's more.
The other light of my life at that time, was a teacher who was so displeased with my less energized, grief induced, job performance after returning to work, that she complained about me to the District more than once that year.
Her complaint?
I didn't come into her class enough to help her manage her students.
Which, you know, always struck me as a laugh riot, since I'm not a teacher and she had both aides and parent volunteers in there to help. This was back before budget cuts, when teachers and psychologists alike had help. Even so, she was an entitled one and she was not having this whole 'boo hoo, my husband died and now I'm sad' excuse for not helping make her life easier.
I actually ended up writing her a letter of recommendation so that she would leave the District (and it worked...she did leave at the end of the 2007 school year), because the sound of her voice nearly sent me into a seizure. All I had to hear was her snap my name, "SunnY!!" like I was one of her students, before I tuned her out like a grown up in those old Charley Brown cartoons. Her voice was shrill, her face was sour, and her cheeks, nose, and neck were always red - like she did nothing but grunt 24/7. She was okay to work with before Roman died, but after, was nearly intolerable for me on a daily basis. Though, thankfully, as I stated earlier, most people were really nice. It was just those two soul suckers who made getting back into the swing of things difficult. And I have since noticed, that while energy parasites are an unfortunate fact of life even on a good day - on a bad day, they can drain me of my last remaining ounce of life. Which is telling, because usually these personalities comprise, say 10% of the people that I work with, yet they seem to take up 90% of my time and already diminished energy; leaving me a mere 10% or so for me to give to myself and to the non-zombies. Not exactly the kind of boost a person needs when they are trying to regain normalcy in their life.
So, while I did my best to put on my productive hat and my happy functional face after returning to work, I usually found it near impossible to maintain my stamina past ten o'clock in the morning.
My solution?
Moooooooore coffeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
I frequented the local Starbucks near my work on a daily basis that year. Each time, I ordered a large iced vanilla latte with an extra shot. Mind you, that was in addition to the double shot beverage I chugged down after rolling out of bed, still half asleep. But no matter, I had to do what I had to do - and good old Starbucks helped me do it. Plus, I liked those big honkin' coffees. They were tastilicious. And as far as I could see, it was a win-win...for a little while at least.
Inevitably, the coffee fix peaked after a couple of hours, so I ingested another pick me up at lunchtime - a large Monster energy drink. And unfortunately it wasn't just sleepiness getting in my way - concentration was also a battle. Maintaining my focus was a constant struggle for which caffeine was of little help...
Most days amounted to me struggling to focus on anything long enough to be considered productive. My mind wasn't necessarily elsewhere, or thinking about Roman, per se, and it wasn't particularly distracted by any one thing; it just couldn't stay put on anything. I describe it now as being much like a clock radio that can't dial into a frequency for long before it has to be adjusted again. Or similar to an infant whose neck muscles have not yet developed, so its little head just sort of rolls around in place while the baby unsuccessfully attempts cranial liftoff.
My ability to focus was not phased by my will or desire to be productive. It also did not improve when faced with negative consequences like seizure inducing, wet blanket tossing zombies, or having to bring bring an ass-load of work home with me each day. My attention span, like the voice in my head that I once relied on for years to get me out of bed in the morning, was just not there anymore. Poof...just like many of the other constants in my life at that time - it was just gone. And since it vacated my mental premises, it caused simple tasks, like writing a sentence in an assessment report, to take eons at times. Moreover, this unwelcomed change in my executive functioning sucked big time, because my daily happenings at work are dictated by strict state and federal education laws, which require that I get my work done according to legal timelines. Timelines that couldn't care less about my concentration's willingness to cooperate - let alone my grief, or my efforts to return to normal.
So after Roman died, from the end of November, until the end of June, I started my day with a double shot espresso, had another double shot espresso around 10:00, and rounded off my turbo charged, caffeinated day, with a large Monster energy drink at lunch. All to perform at a minimum level of proficiency due to inattention, while also contending with two delightful, aura zapping colleagues, in addition to the regular day to day contentions that come with the territory. Sure, the caffeine helped keep me from falling asleep on the job, but it was no magic fix.
Needless to say, by the end of that 2006-2007 school year, I had lost my zeal for the almighty coffee bean. And that summer, when I was on break, I kicked the habit cold turkey. I cut back to taking my caffeine by way of Diet Coke, simply because it felt icky being so hopped up on that much caffeine all the time - plus I eventually became desperately ill over the taste of coffee. I didn't drink coffee again for a couple years after that, because over time I began to associate it with such a difficult point in my life. A time, which thankfully, is behind me.
Needless to say, by the end of that 2006-2007 school year, I had lost my zeal for the almighty coffee bean. And that summer, when I was on break, I kicked the habit cold turkey. I cut back to taking my caffeine by way of Diet Coke, simply because it felt icky being so hopped up on that much caffeine all the time - plus I eventually became desperately ill over the taste of coffee. I didn't drink coffee again for a couple years after that, because over time I began to associate it with such a difficult point in my life. A time, which thankfully, is behind me.
While my attention span has improved from that first year following Roman's death, it is still very much impaired. Frankly, I am amazed that I was able to write those ten parts of my back story here on my blog - because since Roman died, I have found it hard to do anything in sequence, let alone tackle my memories of the events that left me with this inattention problem in the first place. I have used whatever tools I have had at my disposal, which also included yoga and ADHD medications. I didn't take to yoga very well because it made me more tired and I always wanted to giggle during the poses. Meds helped me survive the curse of inattention at work for the past four years, but they also caused spikes in my blood pressure and in my anxiety, causing headaches and countless other attention robbers. They are a quick fix that have their place when combined with other treatments, but as I have said before - grief and all the joy that accompanies it, is inconvenient. Grief will not take a back seat for long until it demands to be heard and dealt with.
Now, I am taking a leave of absence from work because the demands have doubled in the wake of unprecedented budget cuts. My district lost six psychologists to cuts since Roman died, making an already challenging job too much for me when coupled with my bouts of depression, and ongoing anxiety, inattention and chronic sleepiness. After a while, there was not enough Starbucks, Monster energy drinks, Paxil, Zoloft, Concerta, Effexor, Buspar, Wellbutrin, Adderrall, Pristiq, Paxil, Ritalin, Wake Up On Time, Up Your Gas (oh yes, it's an energy thing..and you bet, I tried it), or B vitamins in the world to help me get over that mountain. So eventually, I just had to call time out. And I am grateful that I have a job that allows me to do that. Because when I needed a break most, I actually got it. Go figure. Maybe somethings do have a way of working out after all.
