This week was fraught to say the least. We're in our second week of high temps and cloudless skies, second full week of not sleeping properly due to the heat and feeling like a wilted daff by the end of each working day.
On Tuesday, rumours started to circulate in work, one particular team had been told that they really must attend Thursday's site meeting for important news. We discussed, at length, what it could possibly be. Closure of the building is already planned, redundancy is already a given... what else could they possibly tell us?
On Wednesday, our team were gathered together by the manager to advise that we too should attend Thursday's meeting. An email popped into view to advise that a union meeting was arranged for Friday to answer any questions raised after Thursday.
Thursday morning at 4.45am, I lay in bed thinking that I only had a little over five hours to wait. My stomach churned and my heart raced. By 10am, seated and waiting for the meeting to begin, I was ready to crumble.
After 36 hours of worry. There was very little information given that we didn't already know. I was in such a state, I convinced myself that I was missing some vital piece of information, something in between the lines that was hidden. A friend clarified that I hadn't missed anything, maybe if I was older, my choices would be different, but for me, there is nothing new. It was exhausting. All of that worry... for nothing.
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