Normalcy, where?

a permission slip to not return to who you were

Elizabeth Winthrop Chanler by John Singer Sargent

There has been a lot of impressive wind here, lately. Gusts that rise from nowhere and slam into our house with such force the windows shake. Wind that knocks hats off and topples over empty planter boxes. Sporadic weather that teeters from cherry blossoms and short-shorts to frosty mornings and tornado warnings. It’s all over the place, and so am I.

I’m front row at the internal circus of postpartum hormonal shifts mixed with sleep deprivation mixed with missing my mom mixed with grieving my daughter (it’s been one year since she passed on Sunday) mixed with eye-watering joy as I love on my beautiful baby boy. I’m crying a lot, and I never know quite why. Which thing is it, or is it all of the things at once? Maybe I just need a nap? Maybe I just need a hug?

I’m floundering for routine and quiet familiarity, crisply folded t-shirts, and sparkling clean countertops. But also craving socializing and celebration, pretty frosted cakes, and coffee chats with friends. In reality, I’m covered in spit-up and have my boob hanging out for most of the day.

Searching in vain for normalcy is a theme I’m seeing online everywhere lately. It appears that many, many people are teetering between what was and what is. We have experienced a lot this last year, and many of us are still reeling a bit, trying to find our footing. Loss is prevalent in our collective hearts, trauma is resurfacing to be healed and things feel a bit uncertain. We’re in a time and place we haven’t been to before - we’re different than we were. There is earned wisdom and grace stamped on our bones.

I realized I can’t ever return to ‘normal’ - it was buried along with my loved ones. That past reality is not nearly as rich with texture and understanding as this one. I’m in the sacred now, and it’s messy - and that’s okay.

Here is your permission slip to let go of the need to ‘return’ anywhere -

You are different.

The world is different.

May the grace of the sacred now find you

With great heart may you live.

with love,

Rohini