Floater Dan

My nights are becoming increasingly later and later. It is now 11:57 pm, and I am just sitting down to write today's post. Not good. Not good.

I'm not being hard on myself, as I do know that I am trying to accomplish plenty these days. I had a long day at work, which went very well. I am truly enjoying getting to know the various people in my temporary unit. Since I was hired on as a floater, I don't really know how long I will be working with these people It already makes me feel sad. For some reason it seemed that many of my coworkers came into my office today to chat, or to share a laugh. I sat at my desk enjoying each and every one of them. Last night I had gone out and bought these beautiful brightly colored banners from my favorite store, Eye of the Buddha. I hung them on my walls and also took in a new orchid to place on my desk. Everyone was admiring what I have done to create such a peaceful environment in my office. As I was laughing, and having a good time with everyone, it dawned on me that I could be yanked from this office at any time. As a floater I am sent where there is the most need. This will not necessarily come with much notice. When I realized this, I began to feel very sad. I began to become conscious about the fact that I was beginning to genuinely care about each of these people, and it will be quite difficult having to leave them, and to start all over again some where else.

Maybe being a floater at this time in my grieving process is not good for me. At this point I need to be building a new supportive group of friends, not losing them. I wish there was a way to convey this to those in charge, but I don't think I can get any type of accommodation due to being widowed. As far as I know, being widowed is not considered a disability.

After work I had to race home to check on the boys, then get back into my car to attend a Back to School Night at my son, Dante's, school. I got there a bit late, but found that there were very few parents that showed up. Actually, I may have been the only one. Once again, I had a really good experience getting to know the school staff.

Soon I was back at home for a quick change of clothing, then back on the road to participate in my yoga class. I loved the class, which was smaller than usual. Once we were done, and I was heading for my car, I experienced what has now become a consistent response to my yoga, tears. I'm not sure what it is, but I always leave my class in tears. If I am walking out with a group of the guys, I fight off the tears. Yet once I am secure into my car, the tears begin to flow quickly and easily.

I am doing very well in my grief recovery, but part of this process is experiencing each and every thought and emotion that comes along. Yoga is a very centering experience, and I am always leaving my class feeling good, but also quite vulnerable. It serves as a reminder that while I feel that I am doing well, and definitely moving in the right direction, that it all takes so much more focus and emotional containment than I often realize.

All right. I have finished coping