It’s only been a week of this new normal. Only seven days. Mostly it still feels insane, but I think I’m numbing to the glaring absurdity of it. My brain recognizes that none of this makes sense, but there is something underneath, a vague but powerful influence, nibbling at the edges of my perception. The reality is that the restriction of shelter in place, of not going to work anymore, of not dropping my kids off at school, at not seeing my friends or my family, doesn’t feel so rough around the edges anymore. My subconscious is trying to prepare me for my new reality, and maybe it’s doing a better job that I gave it credit for.
I notice it, the subtle softening of the absurdity, when remnants of my old life rip tiny tears in the facade. In the middle of the week when my phone reminds me to check for my daughter’s flute. I stop, in the midst of the upteenth hour of managing my kids and my job at home, momentarily thrown off balance by this reminder from a past me, a me who knew nothing of this possibility, let alone this eventuality. I shake my head remembering that I used to pick my kids up at this time, from aftercare. Will I pick them up from aftercare again before the fall?
Or when my eyes fall long enough on the family calendar in the kitchen that I see the me who stood there with the marker in her hand, copying each meeting and event, the routine occurrence that peppered our days, with no doubt in her mind that they would come to pass. I can feel her, I can stand inside her, but she doesn’t feel comfortable anymore, there has been a shrinking, and she no longer fits. And yet, there is such a distinct recognition of the world as she saw it, of how all those events that still sprinkle the next two months on that white board, felt so obvious. Guarantees.
These moments of clarity, these little rips in the fabric, allow a glimpse into my old life, that in some part of my mind is still running parallel to this one, just waiting for me to find my way back.
Some days I think, oh, this is just an anomaly, a short detour of sorts. It’s weird, but life can be weird sometimes, and these outliers do littler more than further define normal. But in those moments of clarity, when I am jolted back to the way things used to be, I’m reminded of just how alien this reality is. A huge part of me wants this to feel “normal” because normal is something human brains crave. But this is not normal. And it’s not going to be normal again for a long, long time.
I hope I can remember what normal really is.
This was SO normalizing! Thank you.
Nerves are getting me to make shopping lists, then I go into my kitchen and review and realize all can still wait and do not need immediate filling. So I put down the idea of going to grocery store and remind myself the neighbor I saw yesterday had been that day to the grocery and said shelves still not at all normal. Fresh produce is ok supply however. SO I refocus and stay in isolation so I do not add to the overloading. I think the numbers we will be seeing in about a week are going to be huge reminders to stay distanced. Hope so much that everyone is being careful. Being a non-senior does not make you safe.
I have big fat rusty-brown breasted robins in my yard. Fun to watch and such reminders of my childhood when they were ALL OVER the neighborhood all the time! They have come back from Rachel’s Silent Spring period. I am glad.
Our worlds are slowing in so many ways right now, I hope you all can sometimes relax into that side effect. And that children calm down into their new routines so parents can too. TRANSITIONS are hard for all of us.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING AND FOR REPLIES. You are better than even the robins for me.
Yes to all of this. Around ten days ago I knew that schools and offices would likely close soon. But I remember hearing that some people weren’t doing play dates and that sounded so extreme. And within a few days, of course, no more play dates. So in a week, will I have a loved one on a ventilator and think, wow, I can’t believe that just a week ago I didn’t know anyone sick, much less in the hospital? Or will that be in a month? Or never? Or will it be my husband? It’s so weird to be told that something really bad is going to happen but we don’t know how bad yet and just wait for it. The day to day is fine. We went for walks and did puzzles and watched movies. I can even get lost in it for an hour or two. But then I pull back and it is just too hard to wrap my brain around.