Things Fall Apart

I have shied away from talking about work since being reprimanded a few months ago. And even though I think that a) using a psuedonym instead of my real name, b) not saying the name of the agency I work for and c) not using people's real names most of the time isn't crossing any boundaries, apparently I am wrong. Censorship is a bitch, isn't it? But I can't not talk about how difficult work has been. Every time I sit down at my computer to tell you how I am, what is on my mind, work floats to the surface. I spend most of my waking hours there. The people I work with are dear to me. They are family to me. After almost 4 years, this is my home away from home. I can't not talk about it because it is really effecting me.

We have been through so much turmoil in the past year; it is a wonder more of us haven't bailed. Yesterday was my friend Amanda's last day. I was so lost in my head about other things that when I walked into her office and saw the box of her things at her feet, I had to immediately excuse myself and ran to the bathroom to gain some composure. The weight of being the last one standing pressed down on me. She leaves this week. Jules leaves next week. And others murmer about jumping ship too. It's all just too much.

As I reached around her big, pregnant belly to hug her, the tears filled my eyes. She has been my touchstone, my confidante, my comfort for the past few years. When all hell was breaking loose, we were together in our office trying to hold one another up. We've bitched and moaned and shared our lives. We have watched co-workers leave for better paying jobs, school or new locations. We've watched co-workers pack up their belongings in confusion and despair. We've been there. Together. And now, I feel alone.

Of course, there are other friends/co-workers there that I trust and adore. Saying this isn't to belittle the affection I have for them or their importance in my life. But Amanda and I . . . we are like war buddies. We lived through it together. We have tales to tell. We know without having to speak it. There is a hollow place left in her absence. No one can fill it.

As her friend, I am relieved she will be away from the stress of work and thrilled that she is weeks away from being a mom. She will be a fantastic mom. But as her co-worker, I am in mourning.