My fears about work were both unfounded and, by 16:23 today, founded.
The unfounded part was being generally able to cope alright. Years ago, when I started out in this work I remember vividly thinking that it would be doable because I had my husband ‘at my back’ ... some sense of solidity, a stable and supportive constant in amongst it all. I recall thinking I might struggle otherwise.
Although it has been a struggle since he died I have managed.
It has been hard to know if the struggle has been because of the grief and all that has come with it, depression, the isolation of it, or that it is just plain challenging, relentless and draining. So many colleagues who have the background support will say the same and there are numerous articles about it.
When I changed jobs recently due to the structural changes one of the key deciding factors was to stay with a team that I knew well and a supervisor that was always supportive and would ‘have our backs’, who works thoughtfully, questioningly, intelligently, with great care, and in a well measured way on our behalves.
Unfortunately he’s off at the moment ... but it has been okay as I have navigated the uncharted stuff of this week working it out for myself pretty much okay ... finding ways of working, adapting, blah, blah ...

So, to the ‘founded’ bit.
16:23 on a Friday ... due to finish after an unprecedented week and not thinking what it might possibly be like not to go back into a cocoon of a family, albeit in separate isolation but a nest shared with loved others. Not thinking what it might be like not to finish on a supportive, encouraging note, but rather finish on a pedantic, critical, isolating note. Isolation is generally alright without other people, I find, I’m pretty well practiced. Rock on Sartre ... although not so much other people perhaps but hell is shit managers. Micro bloody management, unthinking, unintelligent, box ticking, incapacity to flexibly take time, take stock, adjust, adapt, lack of care, lack of kindness, lack of thought, lack of consideration, lack of broader perspectives, lack of ... I’m sure there’s more but ... bottom line ... thoughtless, unkind and uncaring. The diametric opposite of what it shall be about.

(I know it is probably anxiety driven by systems that create this style of approach and foster these roles being taken up by people who flourish in the world of the box and the tick but that doesn’t make it okay).

I managed to finish what I had been doing (that wasn’t relevant to the box or the tick but was relevant to what I felt was my direct responsibility and raison d’etre ... and much later because of all the absurdity) and I started crying into a true feeling of isolation that I would not have otherwise have felt. The isolation engendered by contact with others. And I can’t say it has dissipated yet and has left me feeling exhausted and wanting to retreat for much longer than the weekend that feels foreshortened already by the legacy and the lingering fallout of difficult emotions.

This is a complex business this talk of isolation.

I realise I have managed to find a few words in my anger and tears.