Five months ago I went no where without my watch.  Even with a clock in my car, on the office wall, cell phone, desk phone and computer I had to wear my watch.  Referring to it often during my day was as much a part of me as breathing.  When I went into the hospital October 4, 2012 the ICU nurses asked I send it home.  When my return to work never happened I have worn it three times in five months.

Keys are another thing I have all but surrendered.  The Saturday we packed up my office and I left all things agency owned behind I left a keyring so full of keys to remove one was difficult.  It didn’t even house all of my work keys.  The ones I used repeatedly during the work day I left on a separate ring. Today I have six keys on my keyring. I miss the weight of those work key rings in my hand. Mostly I miss the trust they symbolized to me.

The badge I wore Monday through Friday when in the office and to provide proof of identity to use agency credit or discount cards was also left behind.  So were the cards. I find myself momentarily frightened when I notice it is missing from my purse.

For 13 years my identity was defined mainly by being a Believer in God, motherhood, being a wife, and my job at a nonprofit agency.  My life revolved around these roles and wove into one another in tight connection and intertwining locks.  My job was a safe place for me and the tasks often a coping mechanism when my health troubled me or life’s struggles grew difficult. 

On January 10 of this year my resignation became official and on February 19 we “celebrated” my “early retirement” on disability.  My job is no longer my job, it is split into one full time position and some of the tasks delegated to others.

It seems the watch, the keys, the job were symbolic for me of the larger losses in my life over the past four years.  I don’t mourn not being a slave to the watch, the keys, the job and juggling being a wife, mother and a Christian.  But I do mourn.

I weep over the losses as if they were family or dear, dear friends dying.  I grieve the loss because God wired me to give everything in every relationship.  I do not know how NOT to give 110% as much as humanly possible. 

By now I was assured I would see the wisdom of those making decisions that closed the doors on my employment.  By now I was supposed to be calling them to say thanks.  Yet, I don’t see the wisdom of my best interests having been accomplished.  I am not yet in the frame of mind to say thank you for leaving me only the option of disability.  Will I ever be?  I won’t say never but it sure isn’t now.

Mourning I do not do well.  It raises the depths of my depression, the strength of my anxiety attacks.  It also whispers 1001 plus reasons to stay securely in our home.  Something I give into far more than is healthy for my emotional well-being.

But I AM DETERMINED to rise up from this a better mother, a sweeter wife and a more dedicated child of God. For now I have my time to mourn, somewhere in my tomorrows God has promised a time to dance and so we shall.

I will do so free from time restraints, stressful job demands. No watch. No job daily expectations. No excuses for not writing or painting. For this I can give 110%. The rest will come, in God’s time.