Yesterday was the 2nd anniversary of my moms passing, as well as the 1st anniversary of me and my partners relationship.
The first part of this story has me trying to change the date of our anniversary last month, citing that technically our first date was January 24th. My partner was a good sport about it, knowing that I was trying to fool myself and figure out a new way to cope with the day. Unfortunately, my idea didn’t execute very well… So we decided to go ahead and stick with our original Feb 1 anniversary, with a floating date for the celebration. Ok, this will work for me.
This week wasn’t too bad considering all things, plus a last minute rush trip to the city the weekend before for a funeral. It just seemed like I couldn’t quite get back into my groove… I was at my receptionist job and I had gone to the bathroom to wash my hands and I just walked out of the bathroom with the tap still fully running. Ok, whatever it happens. Same day, I’m pulling files for the next day… I can’t find this one file. I look 4 times over the filing cabinet, through all the other spots it could have been put… Nothing. I ask one of the massage therapists to look too. Still nothing… until she finds the file in the stack of files I’ve already pulled. Wow, ok. Maybe it’s just been a long day.
I had originally intended to not take any clients or work on THE day, for obvious reasons. February 1st arrives, and somehow I’ve booked myself 2 coaching sessions and a cleaning job. How could this be?! I was supposed to take the day off so I could have all the feelings and pack for my trip to SF the following day. Apparently my coping mechanisms had other ideas. Right.
I notice as the morning moves on, that I’m feeling a bit scatterbrained. My timing is off, I’m not nearly as present as I pride myself on being and my energy is just a bit haywire. “Ah well, just one of those days” I tell myself as I take some half assed grounding breathes.
While I’m finishing up the cleaning job, a gf calls and we’re chatting about life stuff and she mentions how she knows it’s a sad day for me today and asks what am I up to. I tell her… Her response was “you might want to find some time to sit with this”. In that moment, I realize that I’ve booked myself completely solid for the next week, so there isn’t really even time if I wanted to, to just sit with it. Whoops.
This question and answer thing, I guess it had the impact of connecting me to what I had done subconsciously and that realization threw me into some serious fog. It felt like some one came and stuffed my brain full of cotton and then made the world into this foggy slow motion place where even telling the girl at Starbucks that I wanted a breakfast sandwich and a cookie was the most impossible task. My words and sentences were no longer connected to the place in my brain that makes my mouth move in a way that makes sense. The girl at Canadian Tire looked at me like I was high when I went in and attempted to book my truck in for an inspection. I couldn’t communicate that my truck was making a weird sound and I had to travel the next day. Words felt like climbing a mountain. I was able to say “I’m really out of it today” in between attempts of explaining what I needed. Unfortunately I think that might’ve only proved her possible theory of me. I’m wishing that more people understood the difficulty some days are to some people.
At this point, I’m fully aware I’ve launched my emotional self off the planet and there was no return trip in sight. Ugh. Getting home wasn’t much better, although I did somehow manage pack a suitcase with what I’m hoping were things that will be useful to me. I guess it’ll be a surprise!
Today was a bit better, I feel a more capable of communication although I’m noticing that I’m still not totally back. I parked across the handicap accessible reserved spot on the ferry… You know, the one right in front of the elevator so disabled people can go upstairs to use the bathroom and get food. Yup, totally blocked. And then, me, the girl who double checks every detail of her flight/trip information, almost missed the first of two flights because I read my boarding time wrong AND I was at the wrong gate. I finally heard my name being called out as I was buying some snacks, “final boarding call!”. I ran like the wind.
The day and my trip to SF aren’t quite over, but I thought I’d offer the highlight reel of what it’s like to live a day (a week?) in the life of a dissociation pro.
Here’s hoping that I can allow my body and my brain to meet again soon!