Everyone keeps asking if I’m going back to work. Yes, in January. On 10th. Or maybe 11th. Do I want to go back? Well… If I could be a paid lady of leisure, then I’d seriously consider not going back. But I can’t, so I will.
I’ve also had a lot of questions about whether the whole shebang has made me question the way I live my life, and the place I work, and the relationships I have. And the answer is…. no. I still feel the same way about work as I did before this happened. I still feel the same way about my lovely home. I still have the same friends as I did before this happened: though some friendships are much stronger, and one – or maybe two – I will hold more loosely and invest slightly less in going forward.
I get the feeling I’m supposed to think that tearing up my neck, and having a stroke as a result of that, is the worst thing that ever happened to me. But it is not. It was a tad scary for a few people, not including me. It was inconvenient for a lot of people, including me. I’ve missed a few things I would like to have been part of. I suspect there will be some issues catching up and re-integrating where things have rolled forward in my absence, exactly as they should have, but they don’t worry me, because they will work themselves out. And there have been some huge positives…
I’ve met a lot of good people. I’ve learned a lot of new things. I’ve been forced to learn it’s ok to – occasionally! – be vulnerable and let other people take over responsibility for things – including, sometimes, me – for a while. I’ve been allowed to see different sides of people I thought I knew very well. And me being ill scared someone I care about very much enough to decide that life might be too short to waste, and to make some dramatic changes, for at least the next year anyway. And now, well, now I feel like I’m back to more-or-less the way I was, it’s nice I have a couple of weeks to chill, even if Christmas is slap in the middle of it. I know things would be different if the impact had been more significant or protracted. But it wasn’t. And it is what it is.
As some of you know, I had been thinking of taking a 3 month sabbatical from Oct-Dec this year, but a combination of circumstances made me think that wasn’t the best idea and hold off talking to work about it until next Summer, when I’m due to write a dissertation for the MSc. I guess I got the sabbatical anyway. I mean, I would’ve chosen to spend it very differently: a lot less hospital and recovery time, and at least one overseas holiday with sunshine. But I’m told that sometimes we don’t get what we want, but what we need… who knows. There is certainly at least one thing that I’m glad happened as a result of all this, and so I can’t be sorry that it happened.
But I can still relate to this:
And I am so back on my feet.
You have been warned.