Sabbatical: The first 100 days

It has been 109 days since I read the words that abruptly ended my career. A bit more than three months.  It feels much longer than that. 

The first month seemed seemed to pass  really quickly, mainly because I still thought I could save my job somehow. I was in complete disbelief. I had nightmares every night, replaying the harrassment and aggression I endured until the day I just couldn't take any more.

The second month wasn't too bad either, as I had accepted that I'd no longer have any hope of returning to my job. I was still having nightmares but during the day I was managing okay. I was confident I'd find another job. I was certain the wrongful termination lawsuit would vindicate me. I was hopeful. 

The third month passed, with no job prospects and zero movement on the lawsuit. The nightmares continued to disturb my sleep. I started sleeping late into the morning and then napping in the day.

I channeled my stuck energy into organizing the hall closets and kitchen drawers. I ironed pillowcases and tablecloths. I tidied the  laundry room. I sorted all my shoes, clothing, and jewelry. I tackled 10 years of paper files. Then I organized the Christmas decorations and all the junk that had pulled up in the basement. Keep, donate, discard, ad infinitum. 

I took four carloads of stuff to the second hand store. I threw out two pickup truck loads of junk. Nothing remained that wasn't useful.

I guess I thought organizing everything would help me feel like I have some control over my life. I'm glad it's done, and I'm pleased with the results,  but I don't feel any more in control than I did before. 

Keeping busy didn't keep depression away.

The first wave hit me hard, right after I finished cleaning out the basement. The only logical plan of action I could see ahead of me was to end my life. I was a loser. A failure. I had let everyone down, like I always do, and they would be better off without me. I should go before I mess anything else up.

That passed after about a week. I was relieved to feel it lift. I felt myself level off. I pulled out the fall decorations from my super-organized basement. I cooked and baked. I read a book on cleaning and scoured the house. I lit scented candles and bought toss cushions for the living room. Everything was beautiful. I imagined myself living in domestic bliss. 

But now that has passed.

I need a job but I can't get one. My reputation and career prospects were destroyed when they publicly announced that I was dismissed for gross misconduct. The months will go by until my employment insurance runs out and then I will have to go work in a restaurant or retail shop.

The other day, a friend of mine sent me a message, hoping it would cheer me up. She told me that the board members were saying nice things about me and my contributions. I wanted to scream. I'm sure she was taken aback by my frank reply, where I made it clear that their words were a facade hiding months of harassment. It doesn't make it better at all.