I hear that phrase tossed about all the time.
Getting used to "a new normal", usually used
in reference to learning how to get your life
back on the rails after the bottom has dropped out,
or in the face of some other calamity.
I haven't faced any calamities.
I recognize quite clearly that by all measures,
I am a blessed person.
A good job, two good jobs, in fact.
Photographer and Respiratory Therapist.
I have a husband who is a good, solid man.
He loves and supports me and puts up
with my BS on a regular basis,
God only knows why.
I have friends sent from God.
Honestly, I won the friends lottery.
I am afforded the opportunity to do things
that I dearly love, like photo shoots for websites,
shops, and see my work appear in magazines.
I'm lucky and I know it.
But every single day, there comes a certain time.
Sometimes it hits me on the drive home.
Often it hits me when I hear certain songs.
Two days ago it hit me when I went into
a grocery store I hadn't frequented in over a year...
the grocery store she shopped in all the time.
I remember.
The waves of grief, which I thought had lost
their magnitude over the past 3 years,
wash over me tsunami-style,
and leave me struggling for breath.
I miss her. I miss my mom.
She was my best friend, my fiercest defender,
my biggest supporter and number one fan.
I feel her presence when all is quiet.
I imagine the talks we would have.
"Hey, guess what Mama??? I just found out
that I have two magazine features coming out this Christmas!"
And she'd cry and be thrilled and gush over me
shamelessly as only a mom can.
"Hey, Mama? I'm really struggling
with some physical and emotional changes lately."
And she'd listen. And listen. And listen some more.
I go to sleep most nights knowing that
even though my husband loves me completely,
no one has ever loved me as fully and unconditionally
as she did. I was her only child. I was her world.
We were a team, she and I.
My father was a good-for-nothing,
and it was the two of us against the world
most of my life.
Now I feel as though I'm fighting
so many of those battles alone.
Not literal battles, but the struggle to project a sense
of normalcy to the world at large while also
fighting to keep the PTSD under control.
She was the one...my rock...who talked
me off ledges, figuratively speaking.
My new normal....life without my mom.
Three years on after losing her,
it still feels anything but normal.
I stumble, I fall, I say and do the wrong things.
I really do strive to lead an honest and honorable life,
but some days, just the mere act of making it through the day
without crawling into a ball in the corner
is an accomplishment of the highest magnitude.
I've closed the blog to comments for the past year or so,
but I'm opening them up again for this post.
{ comments closed as of 10/12/14-my apologies }
Maybe some of you can relate and want to share.
Maybe some of you would like to tell me
to snap out of it and knock off the pity party.
Or maybe you just wanna say "hey...I get it."
Their is a certain beauty in grief,
at least I've found that to be true.
I've tried to become a kinder, more empathetic person.
I appreciate more fully the fragility and brevity of life.
I want to make the most of every moment
that God sees fit to give me.
I miss my old normal,
but I'm ready to embrace the new.
Due to a security glitch this morning,
I was temporarily locked out of my blog.
This post is now closed to comments as a result.
Thanks to each of you for sharing and for your
most generous and caring words.
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