The Loop
 

I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be out of the loop. I joked about it before I retired. When I took three or four days off, I would say “I’m a little out of the loop.” Now I know that you can’t be “a little” out of the loop any more than you can be “a little” pregnant. You are in or out. I’m out.

I knew that it wouldn’t take many weeks before I no longer knew which new stamps were coming out, or had the current rates on the tip of my tongue. But I had no idea to what degree the loop represented more than my job itself. I was unaware how much my loop was comprised of people, and now...mostly...they are people whose lives go on without me.

Am I so unreasonable that I expect my replacement to fill me in every time I walk through the door, keep a running list every day, jotting down what’s new so that she can read it off to me? Of course I don’t expect her to do that. But Lord, how I want her to. I want her to realize that those things didn’t stop being important to me the moment headquarters cut my final papers.

I went from thirty years of talking to lots and lots of people every day to some days talking only to Bob...who doesn’t always especially care to hear me talk. When I go to the store to get my paper, and the Post Office to get my mail, I force myself to remember those customers who had no one to talk to, and so talked to me. And talked and talked and talked. I genuinely cared about those souls, but I’m not ready to be one of them. It’s too soon. I’m too freshly out of the loop.

The accusing voice in my head tells me that I could BE in the loop if I wanted to be, if I really made the effort. After all, I can still walk, still drive, still communicate. Yeah, so far. Thanks a lot, voice, for the reminder that there are those who consider me lucky to be not so very disabled yet.

The loop gets farther and farther away, and it takes much more energy than I have most days to keep reaching for it, to keep trying to find a weak spot where I can muster up my puny muscles and squeeze my way back in. Somehow it’s easier to simply sit and watch the loop go by without me. Easier, that is, except emotionally.

So what DO I want? Do I want people calling me fifteen times a day with updates? It boggles my mind. Do I want people dropping in unannounced, showing up at 6:00 p.m. when I’m circling the drain? Inviting me to do things I can’t do and go places I can’t possibly go? Expecting me to follow chains of thought and carry on witty conversation? Expecting me to be...the same?

I know what I need to do: make a new loop. A smaller, slower, easier-to-manage one. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be something. Maybe I’ll get on that tomorrow, if I’m having a good day.

I know what you mean, B2Y. You want people to want you to be in the loop, and you actually want to be there, too....just without all the energy it takes to actually be there!

I guess that's why everyone likes Facebook so much. You can keep up with what's going on with everyone you know (who's on Facebook) without actually having to call or speak to them.

My son offered to help me set up a page.....I might actually take him up on it. I'm tired of being out of the loop, too, but just not able to keep up with everyone like I used to.

I miss the loop. :(

NeuroTalk is my loop now.:grouphug:

I like NeuroTalk and Facebook as "loops". NeuroTalk is my loop with MS friends and Facebook is like a combo of those MS friends and my real life friends. With Facebook, I can logon and get instant updates on everyone on my friend list. It's pretty cool. I don't have the energy to chat on the phone all evening with my friends anymore, so Facebook fills a void for me there.

Oh, do it, do it, do it! I'd be happy to be your friend if you wanna practice! Some days, it's the only thing that keeps me sane. Helps me to remember my life still matters. Other days, being out of the loop isn't so bad :rolleyes:..

Not to be morbid...or anything...but...
 

...doesn't it almost feel like mourning? It's such a huge loss. I truly miss the loop as well. I've been out of the loop for around nine months. I thought I would go visit weekly...but guess what??? I haven't felt well enough. I can count the number of times I have visited my school this year on ONE hand! I just hate this. And in the meantime.... their lives are going on as usual.

:Bawling::sing::nopity:
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on...
La la how the life goes on !

I don't think it is morbid to mourn how your life used to be. I think it is natural. As long as you mourn it for a bit and then move on otherwise, you end up trapped in a dark place and that isn't good.

We all have to figure out ways to move on when life changes us. Sometimes, what is different and hard to get used to ends up better in the long run. We just all have to be open to lifes changes and try to see how to make it work for us.

Im having one of those weeks. It happens in the spring for me. The snow clears, the sun comes out, and folks start re appearing from their winter nests. Plans are made, BBQs are fired up, and folks start making plans to play. I have been asked so many times to so many places, and I simply cant do it. Alot of folks have stopped asking. Some ask even though they know I cant/wont be able to go. I miss being able to play.

I try not to whine, I have a good life, a good hubby, my bills are paid, I have great medical care, and I am alive. Im just bored, and sick of this. Can I get a do over please? MS cheated me out of my turn. MOOOOOMMMM!!! :p

I totally understand. I had to pass up an invitation to a cook out Sunday afternoon. It would have been a long event and all afternoon outside.....just can't do that anymore. And I wanted to go so badly! I get so tired of hearing "wish you could have been there". :(

I hear you all..:grouphug: Even though I've had MS since my 20s (Lite then), I didn't have the big loop change until my early 50s. Even then, I pushed myself to go and do, as much as I could. The day came, though, when I could no longer keep up.:(

Most of my so called friends disappeared....like I was contagous or something..:mad: Even my best friend doesn't call or stop in, like she used to do. She is still there when I need her though and her Kids. I love them all and I understand they have their lives...just like my own Kids..:hug:

The "Loop" has stretched out to be one long limp wet noodle..:D

Sometimes being out of the loop can be a good thing.;) I do not miss office politics, corporate red tape, having to go to work related functions based on a "position" you held, etc. ;)

What I do miss though is some of the social interactions and the helping people in the work environment. I sometimes miss getting up in the morning and having somewhere to be. However, I do try to get over to my parents once a week, go to the library and use the computer there a couple of times a week, and volunteer 1-3 times a week for a few hours at church. Doing this really makes a difference for me as I get the social interaction and the somewhere to be but on a more flexible schedule.

I think once we stop working there is a transition phase that we have all gone through, even those that are healthy and retiring. Although, it is different when "retiring" due to an illness as you don't have the "health" to just do what you want. Once you go through that phase, you start seeing all the possibilities of things that you CAN do and you start doing it. That makes a huge difference.

Give yourself a little time B2Y and know that what you are going through is normal and will eventually pass.:hug: Besides, you have all of us to keep you in the loop.;):D

Thank you, all my loopy friends! :D

And yes, yes, a thousand times yes...it's a form of mourning. (Can you see the newspaper notice: Tuesday at 7, support group for grieving loop loss) Especially when leaving the loop is more like flunking out than graduating.

People ask, "So, are you enjoying your retirement?" The first couple of times, I couldn't think what to say. In their defense, a lot of people didn't KNOW I retired because I had to...after all, I worked there for 29 years (and 4 months).

Now I'm ready for that question, and I say something corny like, "You know, there's something in just about every day that I enjoy."

It kind of hurts sometimes when it's as though I disappeared off the face of the earth ("nobody calls, nobody cares") but then I say to myself, "So...how many times did you call Sue or Cheryl after THEY retired?" Ouch.