How to recover from a disaster
Today is the 75th day of my long-term sick leave. I’ve been signed off by my doctor, on account of the sudden and inexplicable death of my mother in a house fire that has destroyed my family home and left my father homeless. No, I didn’t make that up.
A Walk in the Forest: Seeking Peace
I’ve decided to take my dog for a walk in the forest with my Dad, and we silently trudge the familiar route around the reservoir, woodland, open views, and fields of Cheshire. It’s a sunny day, and my ornithology app reports twelve different bird species in just five minutes. Listening to the birds and watching the app name them has been a little trick I’ve used to calm the incessant nagging little voice in my head that wants me to return to work.
The Internal Battle: Returning to Work
“It’s time. You really ARE OK. What will they THINK? You’re rapidly ruining your long-term career prospects. They’ll make a note in Workday that you’re on indefinite leave. That means only one thing: demotion…it’s just a matter of time. Seriously. Park the self-pity and get back to it.”
Lucky for me, I know this voice well. She’s a mean entity who has absolutely zero interest in my emotional well-being. She just wants a resemblance of normality and steadiness. Back to back meetings, a full inbox, structure and process, strategic planning…and the odd colleague who just wants to talk things through. Plus, hosting large project calls and facilitating the planning, decision-making, and plotting the path to progress, whatever that entails. Hitting targets; correcting the course if necessary.
Comparing Life Now to Before
All these things were easy before the fire. I enjoyed the challenges, the people struggles, the predictable pace. But with my Dad in bits, my daughters in deep grief, the rest of my family and friends reeling, I feel like I’m on a little boat poorly equipped for a hurricane in the middle of the Pacific. Waves washing over us, clinging on and hoping for a respite before the next wave hits. So adding work into the equation seems bloody impossible when I actually allow myself to feel all of this.
I know this, but the voice doesn’t stop. I hear it out. I even talk to it and write it down. I look at the words. I feel my body. “Is it true?” I believe so, until unexpectedly, conversation opens up with my Dad that leaves me heaving in tears and admitting I’m barely holding it all together. “I know,” is what he says. It’s obvious to him but not to me.
Tools for Coping: My Personal Toolkit
So this is the thing. Even I, with all my coaching tools and years of personal development under my belt, can still hear the persistent voice in my head. She is pretty incessant. But I have my tools to deal with her so that I can properly process what’s happened, and find a large steady body of water to navigate this little vessel of mine.
So, if you’re interested in my toolkit of wonders for helping you during a period of crisis, it is here. These tools and apps are working for me, and without them I know where I’d be: back at work, going off camera to breathe deeply or scream into a pillow and crying on the bathroom floor (oh hey, these might be options for when I return; no judgement..). In time, the gulping down of emotions and the multi-tasking of family needs with workplace deliverables would have led me down to a familiar path that I never want to revisit. So I really don’t have a choice, when I think about it.
Yes, I’m fortunate to be able to take long-term sickness leave due to my corporate policy. I’m taking it and Little Doris in my head will just have to lump it. I don’t have a clear plan out of here but I know that no plan means: space for new beginnings.
Amen to that.
