When it was time to go back to work full-time, I was "warned" that one of the hardest parts would be the commute. The long hours spent in the car with nothing to do but think. And then, after a long day of work when I probably didn't have much time to think about my little one, the guilty feeling that would sink in on that drive home would be something new to wrestle with.
I can agree. Sometimes, a long drive is tough. Especially when the weather is bad. The heaviness of life can really weigh me down. But I'm fortunate in that my commute is only 30 minutes. And I have the good fortune of commuting with Rich (and a van-load of students), so the time passes pretty uneventfully.
For me, the hardest part of going back to work has been the slow acceptance that life does go on. It races, actually.
There's the little things. The daily minutiae. Small teenager fires that teachers put out. Job politics. Traffic jams.
And there's the big things. People having babies. People telling you they're pregnant. People complaining about their kids and families.
Today I lament my inability to handle all the big stuff that has thrown itself at me in the last couple of days. I worked in a deep fog today, instead of fighting my way through it.
I've had such a long string of "good days" that when the hard stuff hit me it felt that much harder. I was left utterly abused. Punch after punch came rolling in and I took them all in the gut it would seem.
It's always hard like this when a milestone approaches.
In a few short days my baby turns 5 months old. Can I phrase it like that still? Or should I say he would have turned? Should I say it will be 5 months without him?
What I do know is that today I was reminded of my humanness. Of the fact that there is some serious sadness in my heart and it can still surprise me. I have to give myself a break sometimes. I have triggers. I can't ignore them.
I have a long drive ahead of me yet.