I did go to the funeral, and I was so grateful for all your encouragement to do so, even if that feedback might have been sliiiiiightly skewed due to me saying, pretty much verbatim, “If you think I shouldn’t go, don’t say so”—and so I also thank those of you who thought I shouldn’t go but refrained from saying so. It takes great internal fortitude to keep quiet when you think someone is making a mistake, or anyway it takes ME great internal fortitude, so again, thanks.
As the time to get dressed and get in the car grew closer, I grew increasingly stressed (“HOW DOES THIS EVEN WORK. WHERE WILL I PARK. WHERE WILL I SIT. WHAT WILL I SAY. WHAT WILL I WEAR. HOW MUCH WILL I CRY. WHAT IF ALL MY CHOICES ARE WRONG”), so all those “No, really, it’s a good idea to go” comments helped get me past the Bailing Out window, and then afterward I felt very glad that I went. The family seemed glad to see me. I was glad to be there. I was glad to have been there. It was win-win-win.
I have found a way to chill out a bit about my working situation while I figure out what to do, and that is to pretend I’m doing a series of jobs, each for one year. I immediately relax: “Oh, I can do this for two more months, no big!” Lots of things can change in a couple of months. Maybe in two months I’ll be settled into my new schedule and I’ll be content again. Maybe in two months my “I cannot leave her” client will have died or gone into a nursing home or moved beyond my ability to care for her. Maybe in two months my supervisor will be replaced. For now I’ll stop thinking I have to RIGHT NOW make the decision between “Quitting THIS MINUTE” and “Doing this for the rest of my life.”
Instead I’ll think about what job I’ll do NEXT, which is a fun topic rather than stressful, if I’m thinking about something I’ll only do for a year. Bakery again? Bakery was pretty okay. I always smelled delicious. Something in the school system? Something where I sit next to a computer with a pile of paperwork, occasionally chatting with co-workers?
Oh, I just finished this book and I think you might want to try it:
(image from Amazon.com)
So Sad Today, by Melissa Broder. One of the reviews on the back describes it as “uncomfortable,” and I would say some sections certainly qualify—but it’s the kind of discomfort that can come from someone being really, really frank about themselves, not the kind where someone is describing, say, cruelty to animals. There was one chapter about a fetish, and I sort of skimmed that quickly: after 17 years of motherhood, the sound of someone about to barf fills me with nothing but horror. But I found a lot to identify with, and the whole thing reminded me of blogging I remember from years ago, where it was more like Online Diaries. One chapter is about a time in her marriage when they were non-monogamous. Another is a series of funny texts between herself and her Higher Self. There is a lot of talk about living with anxiety and depression and what that’s like for her, and some of her coping mechanisms. There’s an interesting chapter about fake crushes, and methods she does/doesn’t recommend for getting over them.
Your post reminded me of this thing I read a few years ago that has stuck with me: Always Go To The Funeral. I am particularly touched by this part:
In my humdrum life, the daily battle hasn’t been good versus evil. It’s hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus doing nothing.
I’m glad that you went to the funeral, and I’m glad that you feel good about having gone.
What a great article. Thank you for sharing.
I’m so glad you went to the funeral! I had been thinking about your post and MEANT to comment “yes, you should go!” on it, but then I … didn’t. So I’m glad the rest of the internet stepped in to give you encouragement. I work in healthcare and the patients and families always seem to like it when we acknowledge that our patients are PEOPLE, not just diseases. So going out of your way/comfort zone/ routine is usually REALLY appreciated.
I’m so glad you went! And I also really like your work stress reduction method. My dad had this saying about unpleasant things that were temporary, “you can hold your breath that long.” And I have repeated that to myself MANY times and it reminds me exactly of what you doing with the year-at-a-time.
(Also, why isn’t there a MANUAL? For things like attending funerals? “You can wear any dark color, needn’t be black. It’s perfectly fine to sit in the back. You do not need to go to the burial if you don’t want to, but here’s what happens if you go.” Would make life so much simpler to have GUIDELINES to follow!) (Same goes for tipping service people thank you for empathizing!!!)
I’m glad attending the funeral was a win-win-win. I didn’t comment that day, but I thought it couldn’t do any HARM to go. I always think it’s nice when caregivers take some time to pay their respects.
Interesting-sounding book. Onto the (super-lengthy-) Goodreads list it goes!
I also intended to comment and didn’t . I totally think it was good and appropriate to go, but one negative comment from anyone beforehand would have been my excuse not to go. Impressed that you went.
So glad you went to the funeral! I was someone who didn’t encourage you to go, because I (mistakenly) thought the opportunity to go had passed, and I didn’t want to make you feel worse for not going.
I, too, am glad you went. You feel better for having gone, the family appreciated the fact that you went – total win win.
I heard something on the radio the other day that struck me as a crucial piece of life advice. It was something along the lines of always go to the funeral, always go to the wedding and always go (somewhere else) (sorry, I got distracted and missed that part) – you will never regret it. If you don’t go, you will.
I am a NICU nurse and have, unfortunately, attended several funeral services during the time I have worked in our NICU. I do so to honor the baby who has been lost and also to make sure the family knows that just because their baby is no longer in the NICU does not mean that I have stopped caring for them. And I also do it so I can mourn for the loss, as it is very difficult to lose patients when your job is to save them. I have never regretted going to funeral, but I have had some that I could not go to and wished that I could. I am glad you decided to go. So many people would shy away from the discomfort of that experience, but your relationship with you patient was honored by your presence there.
I am glad you managed to go. It is hard to face new situations, but it is something you won’t regret having done.
I shall adopt your thinking in years method! I am struggling to find something to do and pick the right thing, and thinking that the thing I do next doesn’t have to be lifelong helps. I think I want to do something quiet next, like filing. Or maybe work in a mailroom. I do like sorting.
I’m curious if I’m the only one who wonders how that conversation about funeral attendance went with Paul. Did Swistle just say she was going, and that was that? Was the blog support cited? If so, did Paul change his mind under the combined weight of opinion against him, or did he stick to his guns and declare the internet was wrong? Was there haughty sniffing about how everyone is entitled to their opinion?
Obviously I’m not trying to pry into a truly sticky conversation, but if that information was up for sharing…
Ha, I would be wondering too! I said, “By the way, I am going to that funeral. I know you think it is weird. But I don’t think it’s weird.” And he was like, “I never said it was weird, you ASKED if it was weird and I said yes.” And I said, “I don’t think I did ask if it was weird, I think you just said it was weird. Well, anyway, it is not weird.” He was like, “Well, it’s your funeral.” No, no, I’m kidding, he didn’t say that! I’ll bet he wishes he HAD, though! He just made a “Whatever, it’s up to you, it doesn’t matter to me” face and body posture and sound. When I came home I said, “I’m glad I went. And it wasn’t weird.” And he said, “Good.”
I didn’t mention the post, because I thought he might want to see it, and then might point out that I had asked for silence from anyone who agreed with him.
Good thinking, Swistle!
I, too, am glad you went to the funeral. And, I’m glad you are glad. Also that book interests me very much.