The call came though around 4 p.m. My phone, as usual, was on silent. The vibrations stirred me from my light sleep. Emily Bitto's "The Strays" was perched next to me, a worthy conspirator.
"Hello?" I mumbled.
"Hello? Is that Pandora Behr?" The voice is bright and over confident.
Mr Sunshine on the other end of the phone was a recruitment consultant. Would I be interested in taking on a Business Analyst / Training role.
"Thanks for thinking of me, MrSunshine. I'm taking a month off."
"A month off? You're not looking for work?"
"No, sorry. I've had a death in the family. I worked 48 weeks last year - two of the weeks I had off I was really sick. I need a holiday."
"Oh. Well I'll make a note to give you a call at the end of the January, see if we can give you a hand getting a job."
I've had three of these calls in the last ten days, which is a nice thing. I'm always very pleasant to recruitment consultants - you never know when you might need them to get your a job.
What's been most surprising is my own reaction to these calls. I'm wondering why I feel guilty for saying that I'm taking a break.
Stupid thing is, I need a break. I have to have to have a break. I'm exhausted. This is the first week where I haven't had to be somewhere under rather stressful circumstances (Christmas and funerals are rather stressful) I just want to sit and crochet and read and not talk to people.
The other thing I've noticed. I don't want to talk about my niece at the moment. After nine months where every day I was forced to think about the horrors of what the poor kid was going through, talking to friends about what she was going through, now that she's passed, I want a bit of this time back.
A lovely friend called to chat tonight. She lives interstate, we don't talk often - once or twice a year. A mutual friend had told her about what had happened.
And I found myself talking about it all - again.
I hate to think what my sister and brother-in-law are going through on a daily basis. These conversations are draining.
People have been most kind and most wonderful, but as I was telling my friend tonight, we all process these things differently. I turn inward. I do a lot of talking with close friends, but I do my grieving by myself. And we talked more about what went down to my niece in the last nine months.
Maybe this is the anger stage of grief. I'm over talking. I don't want to process this with people any more. I'm sick of feeling like a bit of a side show.
Life goes on. I just want to get on with it. Or piss off to Bali for a fortnight.
It's a tempting thought.
All I know is I feel like I have to justify every action at the moment, even though my head knows that this is not the case.