They left koi in the pond

It was the discovery of more living things to take care of that started the floodgates.  Ultimately, the koi are not my problem; they are not my fish. Above my paygrade. But I left the house worried as though I were leaving Miss Jones uncrated and to her own devices.  Miss Jones has no road sense. When she escapes, all bets are off as to whether she'll survive a run through traffic. The koi are contained and content. And not my responsibility.

 I stopped crying after about an hour but then on Sunday, the discovery of a damaged piece of art work at work riled me to such a degree, I physically sick from the adrenal rush. 

In my head, I am serene in my grief. Maybe wearing a Grecian gown, under a willow, idly running my fingers along the water. When I cry, it is graceful and elegant.  I wear beautifully embroidered shawls and stare with heartbroken resignation and marvel at the intricate beauty of life and loss. 

In reality, when I cry, it is full on snot-crying, with deep hacking sobs.  I am struggling to focus and THAT is dangerous, especially in my lines of work where detail and nuance are crucial.  Even laundry is beyond me. I stare out the window, but my jaw is clenched. I startle easily.  The anxiety feels more hair-trigger, a combination rage and terror.  It's disprotionate and displaced. The worst is done, in motion. There were things to right on the ship that weren't mine to right and the ship made it to drydock for repair.  It was never about being there in time, was it? 

So, I begin again the process of saying 'no' to certain things, stepping back from others. It is hard to quell that hypercritical voice, screaming in outrage because they were cake donuts.  To admit that I am not my best, to reconfigure work and social plans, stirs a gamut of emotion: shame, relief, certainty.  

I haven't taken time off work since the year my son died in 2010 and that was only because well...I had to. And I tried to force going back, only to wind up in hospital with a raging ulcer. So, is this learning the warning signs? Is this....a sign of maturity and recognition that the reservoir is not infinite?  Who knows. But I'm strangely relieved to not be on cake donut duty for the next couple of weeks.