Last night was a disaster.
I work at an Amazon warehouse about 28 hours a week at night / on the weekends. Lots of deaf people work there and in order to help the deaf and the hearing communicate, Amazon periodically offers (optional) basic sign language classes.
I went to my first class last night. The teacher and interpreter come in, both awesome and friendly.
What are the odds that the teacher’s name is Rachel, the same name as my dead daughter? I fought back tears the whole class, tried everything I could think of to hold it together. Seeing her sign the letters for R a c h e l repeatedly, knowing my daughter could never have learned to sign because she went blind. It was too much.
I am so upset that I couldn’t control my emotions, in public, for the first time since she died.
I am angry that my grief is public and I feel exposed.
My grief life and my fake work life have intersected. I want to quit.
I tried to cry it out in a bathroom stall but had to stop in order to clock in to start my shift. Standing in the time clock line, dozens of people saw me crying. Another grieving Mom dragged me into the bathroom and waited with me while I ugly cried. I stayed after the class and worked my shift.
I DESPISE how I feel when I cry in public. 3 more classes to go…