A New Normal

Something has shifted in my world; I am not sure how I feel about it.  I think it is the “new normal” that I believed could never happen.  After Scott died, we knew that our lives would never return to “normal”. Rich and I were instant empty nesters with a hole in our hearts that you could drive a freight train through.  I knew that it would never heal and it hasn’t and it won’t.  Along my journey a few dim bulbs told us things like, “it will be easier after things get back to normal” or “time heals all wounds”.  And, while I still think they are complete buffoons (Thanks for the word, Dad!) I understand why they said it.  However, don’t take that as a suggestion to tell someone in grief.  It only makes things worse.

I didn’t think I would ever have a day that I could make it through without tears but I started to have them every now and then.  Next, I could go a week or two and so on.  I have never reached a month of no Scott tears and I doubt I ever will.  AND, I don’t think I ever want to.

So, what does this “new normal” look like? It looks like I found out I can fit my feet into shoes again.  Not the same size as they used to be but a size smaller.  In my “new normal” all that dumb stuff in the outside world can now upset my apple cart.  Regular living can be so annoying, I had pretty much forgotten.  For the past almost three years, I processed everything on a scale against grief and nothing could be as heavy as losing Scott.  Things that two years ago wouldn’t have been a blip on my radar are now causing angst.  For example, having to replace my ATM card twice in as many months because of data breeches, the annoyance that my Ziploc leaked and got balsamic vinegar all over my favorite lunch bag and car seat, being in loud restaurants and crabby people are now becoming noticeable to me.  The first day it happened was strange, I thought it might be a Scott day sneaking up on me, but a few weeks later I had another one and POW, I realized it was just life bothering me…not overwhelming, suffocating, depressing grief just regular life. 

This realization was a highlight and a lowlight all rolled into one.  A highlight because I am functioning more like a person and less like a robot but a lowlight because I realized that Scott is becoming more “past tense” than “present tense”-even for me.  I never thought that would happen and I hate that!  I hate it that Scott is the same as he was on May 17^th, 2011 for me, I don’t know how tall he is now (he was still growing), who he married, if he had kids, where he went to college and if he followed his dream to go into the Peace Corp.  But, it is good because I can be more present my life and the LIVING.  That means going for a walk with the dogs and Marissa because SHE had a cruddy day.  That means spending a weekend in a few weeks running (190 miles from Calistoga to Santa Cruz) with 12 other people on a relay team to celebrate the gift of life that donation can bring.  That means rebuilding friendships that I took for granted because I wasn’t able to give, it is my turn to give now, and my friends have given so much to me.

The other thing that this epiphany delivered was the consciousness that three years of Scott grief equaled thirty pounds.  Thirty pounds that were making me tired and frustrated and they were in my way.  So, the new normal means getting away from the tub of Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream a few nights a week.  For three years, I ate when I missed Scott, I knew it was a bad idea but I figured it beat drinking given my family history.  But, two months ago, I just stopped doing it and started to feel better.  It was like a switch came on.  I am now 23 pounds closer to where I was three years ago but I have energy and wake up most days ready to face the day!

A few of you may be wondering, well, what’s wrong with all that?  It sounds good to me, she is moving on.  Many of you will say you are proud of me (I will say, “You have been the wind beneath my wings for 2 years, 11 months, 6 days and 5 hours”).  Well, that is the thing, I don’t want to move on, and I don’t want to forget Scott.  I don’t want him to not be here.  I no longer want him to come back though that would be selfish!  He is where I can’t wait to be! Heaven! But I so wish I wasn’t the one who “lost her child”.  It is a title that I don’t want.  I wish Rich and I had regular empty nest syndrome, the one that you long for the days your children lived with you but you still get them to come home on spring break.  But, coming ‘round again I have a “new normal” that finally feels okay. 

Thanks again for listening to my heart.  I hope it helps you find your “new normal” if your life is ever turned upside down.