This blog post is in response to a realization that I had the other day with a co-worker who is also going through their own loss. Although their loss is much different than mine, I feel as if a theme resonates through any recovery. There will need to be a new normal.

I didn’t automatically identify it as being a “new normal” since, after Tony passed, there were so many changes. There was a lot of packing, throwing away, purging, and crying. I was getting ready to relocate across the U.S. to go back home for a while, so I wasn’t able to identify, at that time, what the “normal” was. Or, that one would even be created. I do recall that it took me a few weeks to stop picking up the phone after work to call him and tell him I’m on my way home. I would pull out the phone, look at the screen, see his name, and then have to say to myself, “there is no one on the other end of the phone.” That was painful.

However, I soon realized there was a particular state of normal I was living in, my own head. I was constantly creating new questions, realizing new things, and, most of all, going over the “what if” and “why”. This whirlwind of unanswered questions swirled around in my head morning, noon, and night, but MOSTLY at night. When the lights are out, and the world seems at peace, my head certainly wasn’t. It is probably because I wanted to drench this whirlwind of emotions that led me to picking up drinking heavily at night, just to be able to sleep (or in reality, pass out).

About six months later, I stayed with my mom for a few months. I got a job and moved into my own place. I now realize that was the beginning of a second new normal. It was being alone. It was coming home from work to be greeted by my beautiful dog (who absolutely saved me), and yet, I was still met with loneliness. And again, I would drink myself into a lonesome crying session. The lyrics “So I caught up my pal Jack Daniel’s,
And his partner Jimmy Beam” was truly my theme song for that point in life.

It took months to get used to rediscovering myself. “Do I actually enjoy baseball? Or did I watch it because he liked it?” Rediscovering oneself will be for another post, but the rediscovery itself was part of the normal. It took months for me to be comfortable with the coldness on one-side of the bed. It took years for me to rebuild my credit. This rebuild was all part of the new normal. It was hard work, and it totally sucked.

What I think was the hardest was getting through the day. Even though I was able to find work, there would still be moments where I would hear a song, smell a particular food, or just see something that was a reminder of him. So, as part of the new normal, I would have to go someplace where no one was watching (usually my car or a bathroom) and cry. I bought only water-proof mascara and eyeliner because of this new normal. I would randomly and sporadically cry, so I had small packs of tissue stashed everywhere: in my car, in my bedroom, at work, I had a package in almost every room. There was also regularly hangover pain in the mornings. So my A.M. routine was trying NOT to look like I had drunk and cried myself to sleep, which required a lot of concealer and Tylenol.

Over time, I found that a ‘routine’ had fallen into place. I knew I couldn’t keep up the drinking forever, so there were things I did before work and after work to help my soul. I would take the dog for a walk, find new trails around my home, even involve myself in “Team in Training” fundraising and running for the Leukemia, Lymphoma Society. I had to force myself to get out and talk to people. As hard as it was to keep my emotions in, sometimes, I found people who let me be me and cry and talk about my situation. This human connection truly helped me to start to heal. Eventually, I developed friendships and started going out to events and parties. These friendships helped me not to mope so much.

So, as I am writing this, I see that throughout many phases of our lives, we may have many new normals. Some of them may be more painful than others; in others, we may learn more, and in some phases, we may grow more. Whatever phase you are in right now, let it be. It will all fall in to place as it should. As the normal unfolds, it may be painful, happy, or dull, but these are all just chapters in your new book.

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