Severance & Going Back to Work
Would you sever in your grief?
This post contains spoilers of the Severance Season 1 premise. There are no spoilers for season 2 or anything in detail. Maybe skip this post if you haven’t seen it yet1 and plan to watch. And I do highly recommend watching it without knowing too much about it!
Severance is my favourite show I’ve watched in a long time. It’s a creative concept, the writing is excellent, the production design is beautiful, the cinematography is outstanding, and the performances are masterful.2 It uniquely blends the tone of a workplace comedy with a psychological thriller with aspects of science fiction and mystery, all while exploring deeply human experiences. Also, there are baby goats!
In case you haven’t seen it3, it’s set in a world where technology exists to be able to “sever” your work self and your private self. Imagine going to work and your work “innie” has no idea about life beyond the basement floor of your office, and your “outie” version never has to be work. I’m sure there are a ton of interesting think pieces on this concept, but I’m focused on the grief at the centre of the story that drives the lead character to sever himself.
After Mike died, I would have absolutely considered severing myself when I had to return to work. Despite all the downfalls and questionable morals of this procedure, in my grief there is a high chance I would have opted to sever.
I had the privilege of taking time off work after Mike’s death, which not everyone is able to do. Here in British Columbia, the standard bereavement leave policy is three days if you’ve experienced the death of an immediate family member.
Three. Days.
We hadn’t even buried Mike three days after he died, let alone the impossible task of going back to work. My employer generously gave me two weeks of paid leave. They offered to be flexible pending what I wanted to do, which again, not everyone is graced with. But due to many challenges, I left that role.
I then took about 2.5 months off to begin to grieve Mike, come to terms with everything I had to immediately do, tend some of the death admin, and to try to get my bearings in my new normal. This included dealing with Mike’s vehicles and many of his belongings, moving apartments, and trying to understand how he could be dead. None of this was easy. And I had to make the best choices I could at the time.
Besides needing an income, I reached a point where, partly due to my visa status, I needed to return to work. I needed a certain number of weeks worked to apply for Canadian permanent residency or else face having to leave the country. I was nowhere near on my way to healing or feeling like I could cope. I still had a lot of brain fog, insomnia, and unprocessed trauma. I didn’t even have a new couch yet! Still, I searched for work and found a show with a whole new team that knew nothing about me or my experience.
The smallest thing seemed impossible, my sleep was fraught and virtually non-existent, getting dressed felt like a grief minefield, driving was challenging with extreme anxiety about accidents. The idea of getting myself there each day, learning new processes, meeting new co-workers, and functioning in the fast-paced world of film production seemed somewhat impossible.
And I needed to do it.
If I had been given the option to sever myself, I probably would have taken it. The thought that there could be a version of me who could exist without being weighed down by this deep loss would have appealed to my painful desperation. Just the notion she could get through the day without having to run to the bathroom or her car for a quick cry before the next meeting, would have seemed like a miracle.
I would have been tempted with the idea that this other version of me wasn’t anxiously dreading being asked any personal questions; or that she didn’t have trauma triggered by scenes in the show they were filming; or that she wouldn’t feel so alone despite working with a crew of hundreds of people.
I would have loved the idea of this other version of me out there, laughing at a joke without feeling like she is somehow betraying the memory of her dead husband; making small talk about what’s for lunch without holding back tears because burger day was his favourite; or not expecting to see Mike step out of the blue shuttle when it pulled up, casually swinging his lanyard with a twinkle in his eye.
Going back to work was HARD.
I would have severed.
And I would have missed so much if I severed.
In search of images for this post I went to my camera roll at the time and found this.
I remember arriving at work after my commute and maps said “You made it to work” and I felt so validated. It was like the app knew how difficult just getting there was.
I also found this selfie. It was the deep-covid time of masks. I felt proud to be doing this hard thing. And I can see in her eyes the shock and weight of it all, and all that it cost to put one step in front of the other.
Through those dark days I still managed to make connections and experience growth and moments of light. The new team didn’t know about my loss, so they didn’t treat me as so. This meant I was able to sort of pretend I was fine. Not something you want to do all the time in grief, but it was helpful in some ways. Sure, sometimes a question like “is that an engagement ring?” would lead me to burst into tears and I did begin to share my truth. However, much of the time I could focus on meaningless tasks like reorganizing the snack area, sorting the sodas into colour order, or ensuring my boss was perfectly caffeinated4. It helped give myself a sort of pretend distance from my pain and remind myself that I still existed in the world.
I love Severance for its realness and portrayal of grief. We also see other depictions of grief including other characters grieving the same person, and different types of loss. Generally, I roll my eyes at the use of a “dead wife” as a way to motivate a lead male character. But in this case, the show is a beautiful exploration of grief.
Whatever hard thing you’re doing right now. Hang in there. And fantasize about severing if you need to. If you’re asked a personal question you don’t want to answer, perhaps make a joke about that being your outie’s business. Be sure to map your way to the closest bathroom if you need to cry in solitude. And remember the work is mysterious and important5.
Would you consider severing if it was possible?
Are there any shows/films/books that capture something true about your grief?
Can you recommend anything to tide me over until Season 3 comes out?
What are you waiting for!?
Also, the theme song is so catchy and will get stuck in your head. You’ve been warned.
Please go watch it… right now! (Then come back and read this afterwards).
Truly an assistants art - not too little, not too much!
Or is it. My work would feel a lot more important if there were baby goats involved!