Tomorrow is my last day before I go back to work.
I have felt nothing for days about this. No anxiety or dread. No fear or sadness. No excitement or anticipation. Just, nothing.
Ironically, this confused me but my counsellor discussed this with me and I think I have thought it through now.
A thought has been developing the last few days though, like a rosebud slowly opening. I feel different. I’m not the same person anymore.
I can’t quite tell if that is because this experience has changed me or whether the fact that I battled so long with my stress and anxiety before my breakdown has meant that I couldn’t remember myself before that.
Will I be the same person on Thursday? Will I slip on my teaching persona like the suit I will wear? Or have I been tainted or altered by my experience?
Will I be better at recognising and controlling the stress or will my newly healed mental wounds be susceptible to reopening?
I don’t fear seeing anyone. I don’t particularly care what they think about me or my absence. What is important is me being able to do a good job, enjoy it, but protect my fragile sense of self.
Yes, I am mother, daughter, sister, teacher. But I don’t want to be defined by those things anymore.
I want to be defined by my own self. Those parts of me are facets on a diamond – they add to it, help create it – but do not define it. The facets help to make it special, to shine. But they do not create it. The beauty is there all the time.
So, what am going to do with my last day? I’m not sure yet. But I do know it will be what I want.