“So how was the week?” My therapist is a nice woman but frankly her voice annoys me. The way she speaks reminds me of a mom from a 80s sitcom.
“It was fine. Work was fine. Not much to do and people are being…delicate…but I’m bored. My family keeps texting which I appreciate it but at the same time I don’t. My mom keeps calling. She tries to be supportive but just keeps breaking down and crying so I end up having to make her feel better. I wish the family would text her. That would solve two problems.” I fully acknowledge I sound like a bitch right now but I since I don’t care about how the sitcom mom thinks of me I can just let the mean out. I can’t with anyone else. Everyone else I need to be more delicate than they are treating me. The consequences would be too severe if I wasn’t.
“It sounds like people are trying to show they care but not giving you what you actually need. Have you told them what you need?”
Is she kidding me right now?
“Well, I’m not sure what I need right now. And I know they need things too. So I haven’t. I figured I would just let them show me what they need and then I can figure out what I need along the way.”
“Fair enough. Do you feel like you have the right to ask people for what you want?”
I sarcastically laugh “That has never been an issue for me”.
“Do you feel like you have the right to say no to those asking you for things, especially when you are in the process of dealing with this tragedy”. This tragedy. This tragedy. It doesn’t feel right calling this a tragedy. It makes me think of theater masks of comedy and tragedy. But what would you call it? A surreal shitshow of a nightmare?
“I’m not sure it is fair to say no, especially to certain people in my life. This tragedy impacted them too. I know they are trying to be there for me, but they need support too”.
“That is not necessarily your responsibility”. Well duh. I immediately hear Billie Eilish’s Duh from her song pop in my head. It was his text notification sound on his phone. I pause for a moment because I can hear my voice cracking before I have said a word.
“Just because it isn’t my responsibility doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done.”
She looks at me for a moment. I think she would rather I just sit here and cry. What is the phrase, a soldier’s daughter never cries? I want to cry. But at the same time, I don’t want to cry in front of her. Not because I feel like I can’t but because it feels wrong. She didn’t know him. She doesn’t know me. It feels like I am dishonoring him by being wasting tears in front of her. God that is a really messed up way of looking at it.
“Did you start a journal like I asked?”
I exhale.
“Yep, wrote my first entry. I didn’t get an actual journal. I just started a private blog. It works better for me.”
“Good. And I’m glad you are customizing to what works best for you. Writing can help get out the thoughts and feeling that you might leave unsaid. It can give you a safe space to let out the emotions you might feel bad or guilty for having. But it can also be a good space to let other thoughts start to come in to as you heal. Which can sometimes make you feel guilty for having because they aren’t about your son. But that is normal. And letting yourself have an outlet is important”.
It’s hard to concentrate. I know I should, it’s rude not to and stupid since I am literally paying her. But the idea that I could have a thought that isn’t around Michael is insane to me. I don’t even know what that could be or what that would feel like.
I wake up and think of him. I turn on the tv and think about what he thought about that show. I eat and I think about whether he liked that food or not. I pee and I think about how he would miss the toilet. Everything is him. Everything. How can there eventually be a time when it won’t be?
And what kind of mother would I be?
I already know what kind of mother I am, I lost my son.
It should have been me.
After the appointment I swing through the drive through to pick up some food. I have to hop on a conference call but I won’t really have to talk. They will spend the first fifteen minutes talking about their kids and the weather before anything actually gets discussed. Sitting on mute is my norm with this job. I thought I would enjoy working from home a lot more but I am a bit bored. There is not enough to keep me busy and I can catch myself looking out the window for minutes at a time, lost in thought. It’s not related at all to Michael, this was the scenario before any of that happened. No, it reminds me of when I was in 6th grade. I would get finished with the work pretty fast but then had to sit there and be quiet.
I never wanted to be quiet. And being bored on top of it made it worse. But that was what was expected. So I would work on proving proofs, the mathematical laws. I would sit there and work through the logic, trying to make sure I understood the why. I was bored, I was a nerd, it made sense at the time. My teacher thought it was weird. She would tell me so. So I stopped.
Oddly enough my ability to do that is why I have the job I have. It is also why I am probably bored right now as they talk about how it was really windy there last night.
Just shoot me.
“Alex, I think you’re on mute”
Shit. “Sorry, yes, I just ordered some food. I’m STARVING and didn’t feel like cooking. What was the question?”
“Hahaha, I totally get that. No, I had just asked if it was windy there for you too last night?”
The amount of shit that could be talked about and yet it is wind. “Actually it was a pretty calm night. The sky was pretty clear and you could see the stars. It was quite beautiful”
“Oh, that sounds so nice!” “I wish the rain would let up so we could see some stars” “That is nice, should we get to the agenda?”
Ah, at least there is one sane person I can count on. I know Chris finds all of this as annoying as I do. I get that Jolene and Piper are just trying to bond in a nice work appropriate way with all of us but I just see it as wasting time. Want to bond? Let me shoot you with a paintball gun. It is a nice bonding experience and stress reliver. Plus I wouldn’t need to talk about the weather.
“You’re right Chris, we have a lot to discuss so let’s get started. Alex, can you fill us in on how the analysis is going? I know you have had a lot on your plate and”
“It’s done Piper. Its up on the drive for review. I also went ahead and built a template in case the client wants something similar again.”
There is a pregnant pause.
“Oh wow, that’s awesome. You know you don’t have to rush to get things done, we all understand that you have a lot on your plate and.”
“Piper, I enjoy the work, takes my mind off things. In fact, feel free to give me more. I like being busy.”
“You are just a miracle from heaven Alex, that would have taken me forever to do.” Jolene pipes up.
“Thank you, I appreciate it. But honestly, that’s my job. Just tell me what is needed and I’ll get it done.”
My Slack goes off on my phone, I look over and see a message from Chris – suck up.
I grab the phone and message back – better than talking about the weather.
This line is never going to move and I will starve here in a drive through roughly 250 feet from a grocery store.
I go back on mute and only half listen. Notes will go out anyway. Most of what is being discussed could have just been sent in an email. That’s how most meetings are though. I think people just want to have a human connection to make work feel more important and not feel like just a cog, so they schedule meetings. Pretend that important things are being decided when really it is just boring banter, some gossip and just a verbal checking off of to do lists. Nothing is decided, nothing changed. Yet I bet if we asked them, they would say these meetings are vital.
Well, expect for Chris and I. But we both work from home and really would rather deal with computers than people. Computers want things to be straight and to the point. No fluff, no couching commands in nice ways. It is just write the formula exactly as you need it. Code without filler. People are the opposite. If you are too honest with them, if you go straight to the point, you can break them so easily.
What evolutionary purpose does that freaking serve?
I can feel the tears start to well in my eyes. No. Not here, I am not crying in a fucking drive through.
“Alex? Can you take on the analysis for Sitwell?”
“Yes, of course, when do you need it by in time to review first before sending to the client?”
Long pause.
“Alex, are you okay? Your voice sounds…weak”
Fuck. “Oh, hahaha, sorry, I took a big sip of my coke and choked a little. I’m fine. When do you need it by?”
“Oh, hahaha, as long as you are okay, I mean, with everything, and”
“Friday, we need it by Friday Alex” Jolene cuts off Piper.
“Fantastic, you will have it. Just send me the formal criteria list and I will start as soon as I get home. Thanks!”
“No! Thank you!”
I know they are trying. But I really hate this. I want to scream at them and tell them to stop, just stop. But I know they are trying. But I just need one place, one place, where its not all about Michael. One place. Why is that so hard for people?
My Slack goes off again. Jolene – are you really okay?
Then right after Chris – How long is this meeting going to take? If they start talking about temperatures again, I’m hanging up
They are trying. I need to try too. I need to do better.
I need to be better.
But I don’t know if I can.