I guess I really did need to lose my husband and my job to finally find my life!

Keep on the contemplative path. It is the only way for some of us!

Laura Lee aka The Crisis Queen

I experienced the beginning of a breakdown (which I view as occurring all through a body and a person — nothing seems to be unaffected) a year ago, beginning with a bad ‘flu. Long story short, major depression kicked in, followed by some stresses that went over the top and brought on PTSD (which I’ve had most of my life anyway). A year later, I am about to enter a hospital with a sterling reputation for respectful and competent care — and what looks like a more integrated (multi-disciplinary) model of care for people whose illnesses are primarily psychiatric. I’ve been off work for the year, too, and it has been a most difficult time … but also an opportunity to think, read, write … make meaning and sense of things that I’d literally not had the time or space for before I became ill.

The culture we live in doesn’t allow for contemplation … convalescence … occasional retreat for quietude and “recharging the batteries.” This struck me as I read about your choice to take time off when you are in mourning … That is a reverent time and needs long, careful tending … The current norm (in North America at least, and if you’re lucky) for paid “bereavement leave” from employment is three days. THREE DAYS! A person’s not even over the shock of loss … and still in the throes of a funeral and all the chaos that comes after it. THREE BLOODY DAYS!

I read something recently about the Victorian era … (and I know this is the norm in many other cultures and times) … that mourning lasted a year. I suspect that most of us would go bonkers if we had to do nothing but focus on a loss for a full year (and — heh — as if we need to be told to focus on it) without anything else to do … but there definitely needs to be more paid time given to workers than three days. I was once fired from a job three weeks after my mother died (and I took one week’s unpaid leave) … It was an administrative position in a small business that required constant speed and accuracy. There were days after my mom’s death that I would find myself starting at a file folder, not knowing what it was. I *had* to function — was single, for one thing … so I managed pretty well except for those times when I’d just go numb for a spell. After about three months, that started to abate … but not enough for my employer, obviously …

Being in a semi-stupor is normal after an intimate loss. I wonder if employers would do all of us good by instituting bereavement-loss time of one to three months when a person has lost a mate, child, parent, sibling, best friend … anyone who was intimate kin to an employee.

Trying to squash all your bereavement into a three-day leave … insane.

Over Christmas my daughter became ill and was diagnosed with Glandular Fever. All the glands were up. Her ears ached, her nose was blocked. Her throat, looked extremely ugly really. Even her tongue was swollen – and her liver was inflamed.

She had recently spent a month in Sydney partying. There she spent all her saved money for her trip over seas, on alcohol and fun. She came home empty handed and goal less.

At first she was devistated being ill. It wasn’t until New Year’s day when she saw the news footage of a fire in a night club in Thailand where she had origionally planned on being, that she started looking at things differently.

This was time to re-assess. She had been running away from decision and committment, by partying.

I’m not sure if she realises her fear around those issues yet, or if she’ll listen to what is screaming at her. She is after all only 19. But I must admit, I was supprised that she recognised her illness as more than just an illness. I’m not sure that I would have at her age.

Laura Lee, maybe you should send Oprah your wonderful book “Midlife Magic”. In fact, I was so impressed with it, I think it should become required reading for all aging humans. I just passed it on to my sister in her forties, like a torch to light her way.
Maggie G