Ghost days
A photo at a Van Gogh exhibit. It has large panels of his artwork, mixed with excerpts from his personal journals. This one read "often whole days pass without my speaking to anyone".
I used to teach at a school for kids with disabilities. I worked there for over a decade. By the time I left to pursue my own consulting work, my mental health had taken a fair battering - I discuss this in some of my presentations, or workshops focussing on supportive workplaces.
Going through my old Instagram posts, I found this pearl. I read it now, and can feel the heartbreak and loneliness, as bitingly strong as it was on the day I posted it.
“Ghost days.
It's what I've decided to call them.
Days when I float through space, seemingly invisible.
I go to work and no one speaks to me; nor I, them. I do good work but no one acknowledges. I sit in a room of twenty teachers and am totally alone.
Those days are the pits.
Ghost days
Eating lunch at my desk because the alternative is too much - trying to stay present in a conversation across a classroom with multiple coworkers. Pretending I've heard the joke and laughing along with everyone else.
Fake smiling until my face hurts. Palms sweaty. Pulse thumping.
Ghost days.
Sitting in a meeting where we discuss the importance of differentiating the curriculum for kids, understanding the need to communicate effectively.
I could choke on the irony as I read the slow, transcribing app on my phone in a room with no accommodations made for the staff member sitting right here. Masks and hands covering mouths. Words murmured into chests or papers. Breakout sessions that make the echoey room a cacophony of mumbles.
Ghost days.
By the end of the workday I am shattered. On so many levels.
I keep my head down as my battery is empty. I walk the dog on the lead because the thought of a fleeting conversation at the park makes me want to stab myself with a fork.
But I need to remember - I'm not a ghost. That would hurt.”
I want to emphasise that this was written at a time of low energy and hopelessness. I was someone battling my every day. Trying to get through. I am not in this place now. I am in a much safer, calmer, self-sustaining space.
These words still ring true in situations. Certain scenarios will put me back in this frame of mind. It’s life when you have a disability.
But I do not live in this permanent state anymore. I battled like hell and got out. Some people aren’t so lucky, and I will continue to raise this awareness for them and others facing the same fight.
