My last day of work before I went on maternity leave was September 11, 2009. I packed up my office, and had three cardboard boxes carried down to the basement for storage. When I returned to work one year later, those boxes were sitting in my office, waiting for my return. Everything was the same. Except for me. I was returning as a mother.
And a widow.
My life had been drastically, uncontrollably, suddenly altered. I was not the same person who had packed those boxes less than 365 days prior.
Today, more than two and a half years later, those same three cardboard boxes are stacked, still packed, against my back office wall. I’ve opened them to pull some of the important stuff out. But for the most part, they remain untouched. I don’t want to open them, go through them. I’m afraid of what I may find. Memories of an old life, an old person long ago lost.
I’ve become pretty good at compartmentalizing my life. Acting different, looking different, in different situations. At work I am the employee. Professional, business-like, in control. I am the friend. The mother. The daughter. The consumer walking the aisles at Walmart. Each role has its own set of expectations, responsibilities, rights and wrongs. And I think I adapt pretty well to each.
But hidden in between, falling through the cracks, is the one role I am really struggling with. That I have yet to figure out. That role is me. I’m like an actor who has played a part for too long, so long that they assume the qualities of the character they were playing. So when faced with those rare moments where I am alone, and don’t have to act, I don’t know what to say or do. I don’t know how to just be myself....
And then there are the other moments. When, for whatever reason, the emotions overpower the situation. When i just can't contain things, separate things any longer. That's when the tear escapes my eyes at work for no particular reason. When I avoid a certain aisle or product at the store because it reminds me of other things. When my parents on the phone ask why I am down without me offering it. When Gavin comes up to me, sits on my lap, and asks what is wrong.
Today, more than two and a half years later, those same three cardboard boxes are stacked, still packed, against my back office wall. I’ve opened them to pull some of the important stuff out. But for the most part, they remain untouched. I don’t want to open them, go through them. I’m afraid of what I may find. Memories of an old life, an old person long ago lost.
I’ve become pretty good at compartmentalizing my life. Acting different, looking different, in different situations. At work I am the employee. Professional, business-like, in control. I am the friend. The mother. The daughter. The consumer walking the aisles at Walmart. Each role has its own set of expectations, responsibilities, rights and wrongs. And I think I adapt pretty well to each.
But hidden in between, falling through the cracks, is the one role I am really struggling with. That I have yet to figure out. That role is me. I’m like an actor who has played a part for too long, so long that they assume the qualities of the character they were playing. So when faced with those rare moments where I am alone, and don’t have to act, I don’t know what to say or do. I don’t know how to just be myself....
And then there are the other moments. When, for whatever reason, the emotions overpower the situation. When i just can't contain things, separate things any longer. That's when the tear escapes my eyes at work for no particular reason. When I avoid a certain aisle or product at the store because it reminds me of other things. When my parents on the phone ask why I am down without me offering it. When Gavin comes up to me, sits on my lap, and asks what is wrong.
There are some things a box, regardless of the size, just cannot contain. Some emotions, some memories, some triggers that just will not stay hidden. The old eventually will find you, no matter how hard you try to pack it away.
And as for those boxes in my office? I think I will leave them packed. I haven't missed their contents thus far, and it may be better not to know what is in there.... At least for a while longer. I don't really need to rediscover that past life just yet.....
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