"People in mourning have to come to grips with death before they can live again. Mourning can go on for years and years. It doesn’t end after a year:That’s a false fantasy. It usually ends when people realize they can live again, that they can concentrate their energies on their lives as a whole, not on their hurt, and guilt, and pain."
Once again I am faced with another "timeline." I've already made it quite clear in a previous post that I don't believe in grief timelines. It's different for everyone. The timeline that's currently hindering any possible progress in my Quest for a New Normal is when I should go back to work. I use "go back" loosely because I left my job in Florida when this nightmare happened, therefore I have nothing to go back to. Each day I feel less and less capable of performing the professional skills I once prided myself in being pretty successful at. My brain feels like Jello most days.
So many family and friends have kindly suggested that finding something to do outside my home would be good for me. Perhaps not at the executive level I used to work...but something. Through this journey, I've met many parents who returned to work just days after they buried their child, while others waited a few weeks. It's been a year for me and I'm scared. So I ask myself: "Is there an appropriate time to rejoin the workforce after the death of a child?" My answer? Nope. I mean, seriously, how many employers out there are looking for grief stricken mothers...writers...who have been unemployed for a year? And what about the days I'm still unable to get out of bed and face reality? The days I don't even know my own name? Would that change if I got a job? Many around me say it would. But how do they know? These are people who have no clue how my pain is constantly screaming in my head even when I'm doing my best to disguise it while doing "normal" things. I've actually become pretty good at the facade.
I'll be honest though, I've been considering it. And just the very thought frightens me. Once an employer reviews my resume' and realizes I only recently moved back to the St. Louis area, the first logical question would be, "What brings you back here?" Hmmm...how do I get around that one? Should I be straight forward and say my daughter was killed and I couldn't stand being so far away from her? If so, I'd probably cry myself a pool of tears right there! I'm sure that would go over well. (Note to HR: April Schuette is unhireable due to mental instability). Would a potential employer automatically assume that I, indeed, am not capable of holding down a regular job because of my circumstances? Am I capable? More importantly, am I ready?
The other day, my son said, "Mom, I know what I want to be when I grow up." "What's that" I ask. "A brain doctor!" Wow. I didn't even know he knew that specific kind of doctor existed. "That's awesome, Bryson! You'll make a fantastic brain doctor!" He then proceeded to tell me that he wants to make sure no one else loses "their Brittany" and other moms won't have to be so sad like his mom is. (He also said he was going to live in a big mansion with room enough for his parents and I can shop...a lot!) I'm gonna hold my little guy to that.
So...while I wait for my son to lavishly support me, I am still faced with my current conundrum: When will I be ready? I guess I'll never know until I try.
Once again I am faced with another "timeline." I've already made it quite clear in a previous post that I don't believe in grief timelines. It's different for everyone. The timeline that's currently hindering any possible progress in my Quest for a New Normal is when I should go back to work. I use "go back" loosely because I left my job in Florida when this nightmare happened, therefore I have nothing to go back to. Each day I feel less and less capable of performing the professional skills I once prided myself in being pretty successful at. My brain feels like Jello most days.
So many family and friends have kindly suggested that finding something to do outside my home would be good for me. Perhaps not at the executive level I used to work...but something. Through this journey, I've met many parents who returned to work just days after they buried their child, while others waited a few weeks. It's been a year for me and I'm scared. So I ask myself: "Is there an appropriate time to rejoin the workforce after the death of a child?" My answer? Nope. I mean, seriously, how many employers out there are looking for grief stricken mothers...writers...who have been unemployed for a year? And what about the days I'm still unable to get out of bed and face reality? The days I don't even know my own name? Would that change if I got a job? Many around me say it would. But how do they know? These are people who have no clue how my pain is constantly screaming in my head even when I'm doing my best to disguise it while doing "normal" things. I've actually become pretty good at the facade.
I'll be honest though, I've been considering it. And just the very thought frightens me. Once an employer reviews my resume' and realizes I only recently moved back to the St. Louis area, the first logical question would be, "What brings you back here?" Hmmm...how do I get around that one? Should I be straight forward and say my daughter was killed and I couldn't stand being so far away from her? If so, I'd probably cry myself a pool of tears right there! I'm sure that would go over well. (Note to HR: April Schuette is unhireable due to mental instability). Would a potential employer automatically assume that I, indeed, am not capable of holding down a regular job because of my circumstances? Am I capable? More importantly, am I ready?
The other day, my son said, "Mom, I know what I want to be when I grow up." "What's that" I ask. "A brain doctor!" Wow. I didn't even know he knew that specific kind of doctor existed. "That's awesome, Bryson! You'll make a fantastic brain doctor!" He then proceeded to tell me that he wants to make sure no one else loses "their Brittany" and other moms won't have to be so sad like his mom is. (He also said he was going to live in a big mansion with room enough for his parents and I can shop...a lot!) I'm gonna hold my little guy to that.
So...while I wait for my son to lavishly support me, I am still faced with my current conundrum: When will I be ready? I guess I'll never know until I try.
Obviously no one around you is going to be able to say when you're ready. Only you can judge that. You may never feel that you're truly ready to go back to work, but as the saying goes, sometimes you just have to take the leap, and build your wings on the way down. Maybe start out simply volunteering somewhere? It could be a good way to still get out of the house, but if you find you aren't truly ready, you haven't made a tremendous committment.
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