It's hard to say goodbye.

Hello Funseekers, it's been a while.

I'm beginning a new journey as the Pyjama Smoker you all know and love - I call her "back to work" Pyjama Smoker. Though I believe this to be a good thing, I think my body is rebelling. Perhaps I'm just... allergic to the idea of work? I'm sick with some kind of chesty flu thing, and remembering what it was like to deal with this AND work. I haven't really gotten physically (virally) sick since I took my leave, so this is the first time I've really had time to ponder the time I've had off, the time before I had time off, and so on. That, and my sister has been as sick as a dog for about a week, and is still going to work because she is one fucking badass scientist. Makes a gal think.

I used to get so, so sick, for months at a time. SICK. I mean, the way I feel today is childs' play next to what I used to go through. First of all, there was the impending doom with oncoming illness. It's the "oh shit I have to cancel all my client work tomorrow what are they going to do, when am I going to be better so I can reschedule next week is going to be doubly hard because I'm taking this day off" feeling. Holy SHIT I don't miss that feeling.

Then we go back a few years when I was taking care of Mum. That was the "motherfucker I have to work at the bar tonight because there's no one to cover for me oh wait, my best friend who also works there will cover for me tonight god bless him, okay tonight I'm going to collapse but I have a paper due tomorrow afternoon and Mum will be up at 7 am and if I sleep tonight maybe I can skip class tomorrow and get Mum off to her day program and write the paper during the skipped class and get it in on time and then work tomorrow night" era.

Which begs the question - why am I surprised I used to be sick for weeks at a time??

I am now, officially, employed. I start working at a bar in the next few weeks. I have made the decision not to go back to work in my destined field (social work, outreach work, counselling) until after this summer is over. I call that my "destined" field of work because despite the fact that I'm not currently *in* it, I still feel passionate about it, love it, and yes, very much miss it. That being said - I am sick, it is winter, and I am taking care of my body. No, I mean, I'm taking CARE of myself. And it's something I have finally decided to prioritize. I think I remember how to do it, it's just been so long since I've allowed myself to do so and (more importantly) had the privilege and freedom to do so.

So here I am, day two of doing preeeeetty much nothing. I'm smoking very minimally (just enough to keep me from getting cranky and restless - yes, I'm an addict) and not drinking. I'm taking in fluids, emergen-C, eating steamed veggies and rice, using my nasal lavage, steaming my head with hot water and tiger balm. I am going to recover in a predictable period of time, goddammit, if it kills me in the process! I have no excuse - no work, minimal obligation. It's like being a fucking kid again! Only without my Mum here making orange Jell-o and setting me up in the den in front of the TV. My version is natural fruit juice, knitting, and ongoing episodes of the TV show "Thirty Something"

Anyways, the next few weeks are going to be quite the flux for Miss PJ. I'm going to shed the actual PJ's and re-enter the workplace, only in a very part-time and "my terms" basis. This year has to be... HAS to be... less about me fulfilling my dreams of creating change through work, and more about me creating change in myself so that I can once again work in my preferred field.

But I digress.

The topic of this blog was "It's hard to say goodbye". One of the first posts in this blog was about my first experience meeting with my therapist and psychiatrist, and the struggles I had even walking in that door. Some things have changed so much, some have changed not much at all. I still wake up most days with sadness, depression, the inability to see my future being more than this sheltered, safe but lonely life. I still have nightmares every night. That being said, I have learned so much about coping, and being gentle towards myself.

Today, I had my very last appointment with my therapist and psychiatrist, and I had to say my goodbyes. If I have ever written anything of any kind of significance, the following is the most important thing I have ever written and acknowledged. And as I write it, I cry.

My therapist and psychiatrist's departing words, jointly, were as follows. And I don't think I will ever forget them: "Don't settle. Don't settle in life if because you know when you need or deserve more than what you are settling for. Take such care of yourself, physically and mentally, and be gentle on yourself, because you deserve kindness. You are one of the most unusual people I have met - and I mean that in a good way. I hope that you will be able to continue to push the depression further away, and live your life with love for yourself."

They left me with the name of a woman they both agreed will be a good long-term private therapist, if I can afford it. I have already decided that paying for this private therapist will be a priority in my financial planning. I trust both of them to have referred me to someone who will suit me.

To the two people I said goodbye to today. I cannot reveal your names, but just so you know, I will never forget you - the kindness you have given me will forever be etched in my brain. You, perhaps not physically, but emotionally, wrapped your arms around me and gave me true unconditional love and support. I know that as a counsellor, that is real. It's not something you do because you're paid to do it, you do it because it's real. Thank-you for everything, and I promise you that I will be kind and gentle to myself. And on the days it is difficult to do so, you will pop into my head and remind me. I am truly honoured to have been cared for by two inspiring, kind, loving, professional women such as yourselves.

xo
PS