We started painting late this morning because I had a scheduled home visit from my area manager to discuss my "return to work".
I told her that I had never felt so unwelcome anywhere in my life when I walked back into that workplace. I told her that my two co-workers has both left the little kitchen/office within a minute of me entering on my first day back, that there was no "Welcome back!" of any sort above a weakly smiled "morning". She asked me how they could help me "when" I return. "I don't know". I don't think there is anything that would ever make working there a comfortable experience again.
She wrote all of this down and I signed it. I cried (of course) and she said that it seemed as if I hadn't moved on from our last meeting.
I have. Indeed I have moved on a long way in my journey. But talking about my grief and talking about that place and the utter lack of compassion and for some reason, hostility from someone I once thought of as a friend brings on the tears.
But I'm ok now.
Meeting done, Ray and I trundled off to splosh some more paint about. Well, I splosh, he is definitely the professional in this situation. Although he has offered me the job of painters mate after my trial period so I can't be too bad. I'm giving the offer some considerable thought.
An overloaded veggie pizza and meat laden kebab later (we lazily ordered from the take out that Ray's brother works for so we got "extras") and the bloated poppets are off to bed.
Love to you all.