Monday, April 27, 2020

Adieu but not really

Today, I lost my entire team. In a time of social distancing and isolation, I am not able to express how hard-hitting a loss this is for me. Whereas a lot of people have found these unprecendented times have meant more free time, somehow the inverse has been true for me: work has increased multifold in the last month. Insomuch that, those I work with have become even more my support system.

And that's on top of them already being more than just work colleagues. Imagine having no familial support system whatsoever. Imagine being so overworked that you're only sporadically in touch with your other friends. Friendships built over time have also been diluted from having taken unconventional routes where they've stayed the traditional paths: friends have gotten married, had kids, moved to the burbs. Me? Not so much.

Over the years, these people have seen me through so much. They've been there for me when I've gone through health issues, when I've been emotionally low. They've let me put my head on my desk to quietly cry and let me have my space. They've let me be loud and joyful, singing random songs whenever I so chose to. They've let me be the rude bitch, knowing deep down I'd drop everything to support them at a blink of the eye.

They've been there through heartbreak, feeding me popcorn chicken or letting me walk around yapping nonstop, venting about this or that - my lack of a lovelife or whatever. The point is I've yapped nonstop about everything under the sun and they've listened (like kudos to these guys for listen to me talk about girly stuff).

I've been lucky to have a boss - actually not just one but two over the last 2 years - that let me do things my way because they respected the end value I always produced. (For not just one boss but two using the word "genius" to describe me.) They've applauded my audacity to say the most irreverent things and gave room for me to be unfiltered and blunt in expressing myself.

They've let me dance on tables (bought me more drinks to encourage me!) or drag them to karaoke, knowing I would always cheer them on even if they didn't believe in themselves. Because they believed in me. They've let lead the group because they trusted me implicitly. They've let me get away with pranking them to no end. They've let me have quiet days where all I want to do is listen to music and tune everything else out.

They've paved the way to ensure credit was given to me when I was forgotten, and have gotten furious when I was made to work 16 hour days. They've fumed when I left my own birthday party to come to work to resolve an "emergency". They've listened to my arguments in strategy sessions and respected my input, seeking my guidance on projects they were working on because what I thought mattered to them.

It is kind of funny: Where I gave up on the idea of that perfect soulmate, I found a support system right at work, of all places, that collectively gave me what that one ideal person should. It's no wonder that today I found myself breaking down in the woods, in the very same spot I always go to when I feel that gaping void of loneliness open up and I fall and fall and fall, not knowing when I will actually hit rock bottom. It's no wonder that I find myself sitting and writing about this gaping void, simply because of how much this loss has impacted me in these times, despite me knowing that there's going to be a better day tomorrow for all of us.

Thank you - you have given me a family and friendship in a place where typically you shouldn't find it. Thank you for letting me shine, for always having my back, for letting me rage and laugh without reservation. I will always have yours muchachas, even if you're not sitting on either side of me anymore.