On reminding myself to breathe.
It’s happening again.
I’m feeling myself tumble-down that rabbit hole just like Alice.
One thing, that I want to state before I go further, is that I love my job. I really and truly love being a funeral director. But I would be lying if I said it was easy.
The funeral home where I’m currently employed does quite a lot of calls every year. In fact, when I tell people the amount of calls we do, they’re often taken aback. It’s a small building with two funeral directors, one full-time assistant, a trade guy, and part-time help that I can count on one hand. It doesn’t make sense, how everything can get done. But it does, and we do a damn good job.
It’s a joke, it really is, that anytime the owner goes on vacation, everyone in my town dies. This past week and a half was no exception. Ten death calls in ten days. Seven full funerals (visitations, church services, burials). One cremation with a memorial service. Two direct cremations. And I was the only funeral director in the building.
I find myself conflicted emotionally during these times. In one way, I crave these challenges. I drown myself completely with work and the families that I serve because I love proving to myself that I can do it all and do it well. I get a high off of this. Instead of cracking under the pressure I push myself harder to be a better funeral director. My organization was so spot on and communication with my assistant so clear that these services could not have run smoother. I’m proud of myself.
But in the same breath, I only have so much inside of me that I can give. Today was the last burial. The phone hasn’t rung. And now that I’m coming down from my high, I’m tired.
Compassion fatigue is a real thing. And now, it’s almost eleven at night on a Saturday and I’m feeling the pull. I’m feeling myself slipping because I haven’t had a break and for a moment, I’ve forgotten how to take care of myself. I know the steps. I know what I have to do. But when you’ve fallen down that rabbit hole in the past, the route can be just a little too familiar.
So I wanted to write this down, to remind myself that I’m human. Sometimes, I do an exceptional job being a funeral director. And sometimes, I let all the bad stuff choke me. I have to talk about it, because it’s not bad that I’m feeling these emotions. It would be bad if I didn’t share these things and hid them away all to myself. There are resources to help me and people who care about me. This is just a little bump in my journey, not my destination.