I am struck by the change of mood and tone in the office this week. It’s coming towards the end of the voluntary redundancy period and details of the new organisation, potential opportunities and stark realities are now more in the public domain.   And this new information and knowledge strips hope bare.  The result is a more sombre mood, whispered conversations, quiet resignation and occasional bursts of anger and despair.

On the days that I go into the office, I make it my mission to smile, to be bright and cheerful.  It’s a colourful mask that I wear, snapped on as I step out of the car and it’s very firmly fixed as I tap my identity card through the door barrier.  To wear it requires a mindset of curiousity “how can I make this better today?”  I am aware that my enthusiasm is not for all.  In some ways I am lucky to have missed the steady slow demise of these past few months; lucky to have learned new coping techniques for dealing with change outside of my control; lucky to know what’s important, what’s transient and what’s downright trivial in comparison.

But being forced to move on or even choosing to move on isn’t easy (although I do believe that having choice is harder than having something happen to you).  Whether its  company takeovers, redundancies, ending relationships, reviewing education options or even the current interminable  Brexit/Brexin debate in the UK, it all creates inevitable change. Our choice is how we choose to face this, how we move on, recognising that there are days when this is easier than others.  Let’s face it, even the more perfect souls have down days too.

I am not immune to reacting poorly to change.  I confess I’m finding it difficult to come to terms with all of my current physical inconsistencies.  The tongue that works some days and not others.  The shoulder which stubbornly refuses to move, the pain in the jaw which comes and goes and comes roaring back again, the lack of sensation  and ‘thick skin’ in the left hand side of my face and neck. Even the scars which are more visible now that the warmer weather is here.  Moving on from the physical effects of getting rid of my cancer is proving to be tricky and a positive mindset is often illusive.

As a result I’m a social hermit.  Given the amount of love and support I soaked up during treatment and its aftermath, it’s important to me to allow my tribe to move on with their lives and to not be one of those needy people, stuck in the grove of needing attention.  And this positive intention manifests itself in crazy ways.  I avoid the phone. I don’t invite myself round for coffee or invite friends over for wine or gin and chat.  I’m conscious of people having to ask me to repeat what I’ve said.  The word ‘pardon’ or phrases like “excuse me”, “say again” or “I didn’t quite catch that” have taken on ridiculous proportions in my head. For someone who has much to say, it’s really frustrating that I can’t speak too long without jaw pain, tiredness and the inevitable slurring.  On days where I’m being kind to myself and more mindful, I remember that I’m learning to improve my listening, to use my NLP to look at the structure of the conversation, not the content.  But there are days where I beat myself hard, where I push to enunciate more, to exercise more, to say more, socialise more, be more ‘normal’.  And the price is a lack of energy, increased levels of pain, a heightened sense of self-consciousness and greater irritability and tiredness.

My desire to take action, to get over this, to move on, burns fierce-bright. My good days tease my down days with possibilities that achingly remain just out of reach.  I know I will get there, I just don’t know when.

When dealing with adversity our instinctive response is to fight, take flight or freeze.  Sometimes, standing in the moment, being rooted, is the best version of ourselves that we can be.

Moving on may not yet be the best option.