Working Through

Last week was my first week off, home, and alone. I did yoga, I ran, I listened to Chekhov short stories on ipod, I started to navigate the overwhelming but fascinating world of podcasting, I curled up with hot tea in my reading room and journaled. I made a few tactical errors like watching a DVD on serial killers while alone. Not so good. Time for a major Netflix queue revision.

Now that I have worked 3 night 12’s I find my loneliness consuming. This is the opposite from my previous experience. Work used to be my refuge. When I was married I was pulling 50 hours a week easily. I felt lonely and wanted to be at work to see my friends. The prison felt like a community, a family. In June I was on the last day of my stretch when a random officer asked me what I was going to do with my 7 days off, what I was looking forward to. I really couldn’t think of anything. I was thinking about a hole in the schedule and considering another shift. In that moment I knew that I had to do something. That was the instant I decided to leave Eric.

When I was dating Mike I still wanted to get back to work to return to order and sanity. He worked days, so I almost never saw him at work. He worked with his people and I worked with mine. The only reason I knew him was from his time on nights over a year ago.

Now at work I feel raw, like all of my skin is gone. I don’t have the energy to navigate the complex webs of personality disorders and relationships. I am faced with boundary issues with inmates and staff that I suddenly don’t feel like I can handle. I still feel emotionally enriched by working with most of the inmates, and I get along very well with most of the staff, but things are tougher now. I am very conscious of the fact that there is nobody waiting for me at home to hug me and help me process the environment. Driving home is a point of serious vulnerability for me. When I get home I just try to go to bed as fast as possible. The good news is I’m not having any trouble sleeping now.