Time to Take
We're sitting at a long table, or at least it feels long to me - The Last Supper Style. One person is on my left, my current boss. The other, down at the far end, the Human Resources Representative, who up until now, hadn't been anyone I had interacted with except to take candies out of her dish as I walked by.
I'm in tears. "I wouldn't have made a different choice, I had to choose my family."
What's happening here, is the Performance Improvement Plan (PIP) Meeting that my then boss and my then, HR Representative are having with me. It was Fall 2011. They told me I had to write a letter, apologizing to the Disability Representative that I had some words with in the prior weeks, that I had to write a letter stating how I was going to improve my performance and I had to have weekly meetings with my boss to manage my progress.
Prior to this meeting, I had been told that I had been missing too much work time. I had missed approximately one hundred and sixty hours (three weeks), two of those weeks due to bereavement as my father had passed away and other days missed due to the heavy lifting related to his estate matters. What I didn't expect was that I was be getting my performance managed. I considered myself to be a high performing employee, with no issues (it's possible I had an over inflated sense of how good I was...I was in my 20s after all. ha). I knew I hadn't been the same since my dad passed away in April, but thought I had been masking things relatively well. I didn't understand (or maybe didn't want to know) the options that were available to me. When I had finally applied to Short Term Disability in October, I was denied. They told me that I was sleeping, exercising and eating so didn't exhibit the symptoms of someone who was under extreme stress. Oh, and the fact that I wasn't on any sort of medication to help with the stress was a strike against me too. So, I stayed at work and got put on a PIP.
What I finally realized later was that I should have taken the time. I should have asked for a leave earlier. I should have taken the time off unpaid, maybe I should have worked a modified work week. What I didn't know then, was that those options were available. I also didn't know that I could afford the time, I thought I needed to work. I thought that like when my brother passed away in 2001 during my first year of post-secondary, I'd be able to just power through like I always do. I still remember my dad bragging about my relatively high GPA in that semester that Jaden passed away, and I thought that like that GPA, I'd be able to pull through work in the same kind of way. Turns out, I was wrong.
Fast forward to October 2018. My sister and I get the news that Mom passed away suddenly and tragically. It was a Sunday night when we got the news and we met in Regina by noon on Monday. We planned her funeral as a team, we buried her and we left after five days in Regina. I got home and knew right away, that I couldn't go back. I couldn't walk into work. I was tired in a way that I had never been. It seemed that everything I had experienced in the last 17 years had finally caught up with me. I took the time. The time allowed me to rest, like really rest. The time allowed me to help my Grandpa move into his new care home. The time allowed me to get out into nature. It allowed me quiet time. It allowed me time with my friends.
There were moments when I started to pressure myself to go back. After a little more than a month off, I got ready for work, packed my lunch, had my coffee to-go poured and as I went to step out of the house, had a meltdown. I called my boss, Tracy. I told her that I was sorry I couldn't come and I felt terrible that the team had to carry my absence and my work. Lucky for me, Tracy encouraged me to make the decision to stay home. Three weeks later, I went back to work. The first three days of work were littered with calls about grandpa's new care situation, my first ever mediation meeting with the less than friendly union and a call from my sister sharing the coroner's report about mom. It was too much. I went off again. I was so ashamed. I had wondered what had happened to me and when I had lost my ability to just power through things. I guess, if you power through too many things, you eventually lose your ability to do so.
When I finally returned to work, two and a half months after mom died, I was ready. And when I went back, no one questioned why I was off. Most people asked the awkward, but well intended "how are you?" Many gave their condolences and some understood, better than me, the gravity of losing parents, even if that is the expected cycle of life. No one criticized my decision, at least not to my face. I respected and appreciated the people who could face me, and my grief head on. It solidified the feeling that I had made the right decision for myself.
In a recent conversation with my Vice President at my now job, we got personal. She knew my mom had passed, it had been one of the reasons that the recruitment process for this new job was delayed. They were gracious and compassionate. They waited. They sent a sympathy card to me, someone who hadn't even got a job offer yet. I had told her, that it takes me a long time to learn lessons but the lesson that I have learned is that, I have to work differently now. Work will always be there, the time won't always be. People, who really care, will wait and they will understand. It's up to us, to make the decision for ourselves to ask for what we need, which is perhaps the hardest thing of all.
Grief is a complicated experience, it changes you. It changes you in the short term and it changes who you are in the long term. What you need and want now, is different than before and it might stay different forever. I find myself trying to fit myself into what I was before - didn't need to rest much, didn't need quiet, could have a jam packed social calendar and had all the energy for all the social things. When I try to jam myself back into the mold, it usually backfires and results in me cancelling plans (I'm sorry if this was something that I did to you) or having some semblance of a meltdown. It's uncomfortable realizing that I can't do what I've always done and having to readjust. Not only, am I navigating my own grief and sadness, I'm navigating this slightly different version of myself. Now, I need to rest (my mind and my body), which is a skill I'm trying to learn. Sometimes, I need quiet. I need to be ok with only being able to plan a day or two in advance for social events (which goes against everything my Type A personality wants) because I might not have the energy. I have to be ok with the fact that I won't be able to muscle through the hardest bike rides or workouts some days and some days, I'll have to go back to bed, even after eight hours of sleep. I need help and I need to be around people that love me and that I love back. The other thing that I am learning is that, you can't always give and sometimes, it's your turn to take. It's ok to take the time. And, it's ok to take the care and love that people offer. Taking their love and their care isn't taking advantage of anything, if you would do the same for them (which I would in a heartbeat). Part of the 'paying it forward' cycle isn't just paying it forward, it's also accepting it when it's your turn.
There is a part of me that hopes I can return to "Old Kyla" but there is another part of me that is always, after some time, thankful for the changes that these experiences have given me. Right now, it's uncertain where I might land and who I might be once I'm through the thick of this; I'm trying not to worry about it. I do know, this is just a point in time - everything always gets better. So, in the meantime, I'm just going to rest.
I'm in tears. "I wouldn't have made a different choice, I had to choose my family."
What's happening here, is the Performance Improvement Plan (PIP) Meeting that my then boss and my then, HR Representative are having with me. It was Fall 2011. They told me I had to write a letter, apologizing to the Disability Representative that I had some words with in the prior weeks, that I had to write a letter stating how I was going to improve my performance and I had to have weekly meetings with my boss to manage my progress.
Prior to this meeting, I had been told that I had been missing too much work time. I had missed approximately one hundred and sixty hours (three weeks), two of those weeks due to bereavement as my father had passed away and other days missed due to the heavy lifting related to his estate matters. What I didn't expect was that I was be getting my performance managed. I considered myself to be a high performing employee, with no issues (it's possible I had an over inflated sense of how good I was...I was in my 20s after all. ha). I knew I hadn't been the same since my dad passed away in April, but thought I had been masking things relatively well. I didn't understand (or maybe didn't want to know) the options that were available to me. When I had finally applied to Short Term Disability in October, I was denied. They told me that I was sleeping, exercising and eating so didn't exhibit the symptoms of someone who was under extreme stress. Oh, and the fact that I wasn't on any sort of medication to help with the stress was a strike against me too. So, I stayed at work and got put on a PIP.
What I finally realized later was that I should have taken the time. I should have asked for a leave earlier. I should have taken the time off unpaid, maybe I should have worked a modified work week. What I didn't know then, was that those options were available. I also didn't know that I could afford the time, I thought I needed to work. I thought that like when my brother passed away in 2001 during my first year of post-secondary, I'd be able to just power through like I always do. I still remember my dad bragging about my relatively high GPA in that semester that Jaden passed away, and I thought that like that GPA, I'd be able to pull through work in the same kind of way. Turns out, I was wrong.
Fast forward to October 2018. My sister and I get the news that Mom passed away suddenly and tragically. It was a Sunday night when we got the news and we met in Regina by noon on Monday. We planned her funeral as a team, we buried her and we left after five days in Regina. I got home and knew right away, that I couldn't go back. I couldn't walk into work. I was tired in a way that I had never been. It seemed that everything I had experienced in the last 17 years had finally caught up with me. I took the time. The time allowed me to rest, like really rest. The time allowed me to help my Grandpa move into his new care home. The time allowed me to get out into nature. It allowed me quiet time. It allowed me time with my friends.
There were moments when I started to pressure myself to go back. After a little more than a month off, I got ready for work, packed my lunch, had my coffee to-go poured and as I went to step out of the house, had a meltdown. I called my boss, Tracy. I told her that I was sorry I couldn't come and I felt terrible that the team had to carry my absence and my work. Lucky for me, Tracy encouraged me to make the decision to stay home. Three weeks later, I went back to work. The first three days of work were littered with calls about grandpa's new care situation, my first ever mediation meeting with the less than friendly union and a call from my sister sharing the coroner's report about mom. It was too much. I went off again. I was so ashamed. I had wondered what had happened to me and when I had lost my ability to just power through things. I guess, if you power through too many things, you eventually lose your ability to do so.
When I finally returned to work, two and a half months after mom died, I was ready. And when I went back, no one questioned why I was off. Most people asked the awkward, but well intended "how are you?" Many gave their condolences and some understood, better than me, the gravity of losing parents, even if that is the expected cycle of life. No one criticized my decision, at least not to my face. I respected and appreciated the people who could face me, and my grief head on. It solidified the feeling that I had made the right decision for myself.
In a recent conversation with my Vice President at my now job, we got personal. She knew my mom had passed, it had been one of the reasons that the recruitment process for this new job was delayed. They were gracious and compassionate. They waited. They sent a sympathy card to me, someone who hadn't even got a job offer yet. I had told her, that it takes me a long time to learn lessons but the lesson that I have learned is that, I have to work differently now. Work will always be there, the time won't always be. People, who really care, will wait and they will understand. It's up to us, to make the decision for ourselves to ask for what we need, which is perhaps the hardest thing of all.
Grief is a complicated experience, it changes you. It changes you in the short term and it changes who you are in the long term. What you need and want now, is different than before and it might stay different forever. I find myself trying to fit myself into what I was before - didn't need to rest much, didn't need quiet, could have a jam packed social calendar and had all the energy for all the social things. When I try to jam myself back into the mold, it usually backfires and results in me cancelling plans (I'm sorry if this was something that I did to you) or having some semblance of a meltdown. It's uncomfortable realizing that I can't do what I've always done and having to readjust. Not only, am I navigating my own grief and sadness, I'm navigating this slightly different version of myself. Now, I need to rest (my mind and my body), which is a skill I'm trying to learn. Sometimes, I need quiet. I need to be ok with only being able to plan a day or two in advance for social events (which goes against everything my Type A personality wants) because I might not have the energy. I have to be ok with the fact that I won't be able to muscle through the hardest bike rides or workouts some days and some days, I'll have to go back to bed, even after eight hours of sleep. I need help and I need to be around people that love me and that I love back. The other thing that I am learning is that, you can't always give and sometimes, it's your turn to take. It's ok to take the time. And, it's ok to take the care and love that people offer. Taking their love and their care isn't taking advantage of anything, if you would do the same for them (which I would in a heartbeat). Part of the 'paying it forward' cycle isn't just paying it forward, it's also accepting it when it's your turn.
There is a part of me that hopes I can return to "Old Kyla" but there is another part of me that is always, after some time, thankful for the changes that these experiences have given me. Right now, it's uncertain where I might land and who I might be once I'm through the thick of this; I'm trying not to worry about it. I do know, this is just a point in time - everything always gets better. So, in the meantime, I'm just going to rest.
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| Picture from Garibaldi Lake during November 2018 |
I had no idea you have such a talent for writing! I love Kyla version now - she is a culmination of Kyla 1.0 with promising future versions :) and I appreciate your sharing the journey as you have certainly had your share of grief and I often think of you.
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