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Invisibility

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As much as I know spending the first month after my husband was killed curled up in a little ball at home would have been good for me, reality doesn’t work that way.  Utilities, banks, car payments, none of them care that your world has been smashed into little pieces.  Which means you go back to work.

So I went back, before I ready, but I’m a big girl, I could handle it.  And I did.  I’ve never been the most social person at work.  I’m a bit of a misfit, don’t care about sports, don’t have kids to talk about, and I read.  But now it was like I was invisible.  People glanced away so they wouldn’t meet my eyes, I barely got hello in the mornings.  Heck I’ve had more social interaction when I had the plague.  Now, no one talks to me.

I get the normal explanations – don’t want to make it worse, don’t want to bug you, not sure what to say.  And I get it, I do.  But avoiding my husbands death, pretending it didn’t happen creates the weirdest dissonance, like maybe he isn’t dead, maybe this is a bad dream and I’ll wake up and he’ll be there.

Unfortunately it isn’t a dream.  No matter how much I wish it was, I don’t wake up.  this leaves me at work, floundering feeling even more isolated and invisible than I already felt.  But up until now, I had him at home to be there for me.

My advice?  Go out of your way to talk to the person, talk about a movie you saw, ask how their week has been doing, ask if they’ve learned any lessons (and trust me they have, learn from their pain) and just remind them they aren’t invisible or alone.

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