Man, today sucked. I know- what an intro. But it’s true. We had some shit go down at work and I’m feeling heavy. I won’t get into it, but it’s amazing how transformative any version of grief is, isn’t it? I imagine you might be thinking: ‘of course!’
P.S. I didn’t use duh because that feels dated, though much more comfortable for me.
Yes. Grief is impactful. Sadness is intense. What I mean by transformative is that it literally gets to me on a cellular level. Things hurt and ache and I feel them in a way that I didn’t in the before. I’m hypersensitive, as if I suddenly came down with some version of extraordinary sensory abilities. Except, instead of seeing musical notes as colors, everything just feels like too much. Too loud, too bright, too harsh, too hard.
Perhaps this feeling is exacerbated when it’s unexpected, as grief often is, and in my case, sometimes it’s made worse by the pile-on effect. Meaning, there was some baseline sadness and then, another thing occurs, that thing is more unexpected than the first, and it feels like an absolute avalanche. Suddenly I’m under a mountain and I cannot seem to find a viable way to get out. Nothing. Nada. It’s just blackness and dust.
Usually talking about things tends to make me feel better. I get it off my chest, as the expression goes, and I feel lighter. Nothing in the world has magically changed, but I was able to give voice to the situation that’s troublesome and that alone feels like an unburdening. This time it didn’t work.
At all.
I spoke about this burden, this sadness, to at least three different people. I morphed myself into the most vulnerable form I take- the version of me that offers my softest, most gentle parts up for the reaping. I thought, as I often do, if I speak into existence my torture- the way in which it just defies logic, and I am validated in those thoughts, then I can free myself of the weight of them.
But like I said- this time it didn’t work. I tried my darndest and still, all the thoughts were swirling around my brain.
There is a lot of talk about how cold corporate America can be. It’s always made sense to me because business is business. There is little room for sentimentality when it comes to revenue. Yet, there is a reality that exists that defies this cold approach, which is that there are humans behind businesses. There are warm-blooded, living breathing humans who staff businesses.
There are people who spend more of their time in their offices than anywhere else. There are co-workers who have experienced more of life’s ups and downs with each other than they have shared with their families and close friends. There are employees who have cancelled vacations and stood outside of theaters on conference calls, and relentlessly refreshed their email at weddings and funerals and graduations.
Yes, these folks do it for the paycheck, but there are also many (me included) who also do it because they take pride in what they do. They have an unmatched work ethic and drive. They care. They really, really care.
So, because of this dedication, this devotion, there’s a kind of betrayal that’s felt when things go topsy turvy. There are normal feelings, like embarrassment, anger, fear, and the like, and then, there’s the ‘how could they do this to me?’ sentiment. And the ‘this’ can take so many forms. The disloyalty can run the gamut from benign, which looks like a night of tail tucking, to life changing, which looks like a total pivot.
While I understand that things need to change and situations occur and there are a lot of justifiable ‘this’ situations, I also think that we get it wrong, a lot. I think we are hasty and short-sighted. I think, no, I know, that there is little energy or effort put into finding a way to do things that’s sensible and also, maybe kind.
Someone told me that difficult things are never done well in the eyes of those impacted. I mostly believe this based on my experience. Maybe that IS just the human experience, generally. We look at the way someone handled a situation and always think we could have done it better. Part of that, of course, is that we have the benefit of hindsight. We’ve already digested the facts and can assess what went right and what went horribly wrong.
Also, it’s just the fact of the matter. When everything gets uncomfortable and ugly and dark, the only way to the other side is often traversing through muck. Still, I have this fundamental belief that we can do things better. That we can be incredibly efficient and still, be better. Be more respectful. Gentler. More loving.
We can navigate through our humanity, while also keeping in mind the bottom line. And there’s no reason to believe this isn’t possible, because it literally happens all the time. So does the opposite, I’m aware. I believe that the leaning into this hardline take actually causes more unrest, more turnover, higher anxiety, more dollars wasted, and less cultivation and growth of talent. I believe that because I’ve seen it.
My grief will not make me do my job differently. Sure, I may be a little “off” emotionally for a few days, but I’m still going to give all of myself to my tasks and responsibilities. However, my feelings will have shifted, forever. I will consider carefully my choices, my words, and the thoughts of my future. That’s really the result of these decisions.
Perhaps if you asked someone whether they care that things are felt this way (by many), they would tell you that it doesn’t matter. That behind me there are a million of me, waiting to fill my teeny tiny shoes (literally, because figuratively, I have big fucking shoes to fill), and I don’t think they are wrong. And yet, I know something is lost there. Something important. Something a little intangible, and still, critical.
I tend to think that thing that’s lost builds over time- and becomes a monumental hill of lost opportunities.
And honestly, there’s nothing sadder than that.
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