It's funny, how our brains equalize stress into normal.
It seems, at times, that the stresses life throws at us are too much, they will break us down into a mass no one including ourselves will ever recognize as "us" again.
But, like the tiniest sunbeam through a storm, normal everyday events, and worries, and things normalize that stress.
Don't discount the damage that stress can and does cause, especially long term.
But do, oh, please do, embrace the normal that balances it all out.
Embrace the everyday that keeps us afloat.
I have a funny relationship with normal.
The morning we took my husband to the air terminal to leave for the latest deployment, the alarm went off as it always does and he hit the snooze button as he always does.
That felt normal until my skin registered that this would be the last time I’d feel his arms around me for months.
When we finally got ourselves up out of bed we stood side by side at our bathroom sink brushing our teeth….
The dog still needed to be let out.
The garbage still had to be taken to the curb.
I still had to correct my daughter when she teased her sister.
As we drove to base traffic proceeded as normal. There was no indication that the gravity of the goodbye that was hanging over our family was even registering to the outside world.
The line to get on base was backed up. No one felt our urgency in getting him there before the muster began.
We got to the air terminal, parked in the parking lot and a man in a hard hat was pounding metal on metal just a few yards away from us. The sound was deafening.
My babies’ wails began as he told them to “Be Good for Mommy.” The tears came down my face. He hugged us. Held us. And that one last kiss all happened to the sound of that repetitive metallic clank.
My senses raw and ripped open took it all in.
So many moments that feel as though the world should slow down… should perceive that this moment is different than the others.
But it doesn’t.
Because normal keeps happening.
We come home and I worry that I will flounder. And I would flounder….
Except that there are dishes to be done and laundry to be folded, work tasks to accomplish. I move towards these things that are normally drudgery with a sense of a relief. Here. Here I know how to show up. I know the rules. I don’t have to think about the emptiness… or about the hole he left.
The tears don’t fall so hard when I find the worn, comfortable, groove of routine.
I’ll wake up tomorrow and pull school books from the shelf, gather my girls around me and find solace in the practiced rhythm of teaching them. The time will be filled. We’ll find our way to the end of the day and to another X on the calendar by doing the things we always do.
I’ll call a friend, check the news, make meals and clean them up. I’ll see that the girls get their baths, read them bedtime stories, and tuck them in.
And we’ll be ok.
Because normal keeps happening.
It seems, at times, that the stresses life throws at us are too much, they will break us down into a mass no one including ourselves will ever recognize as "us" again.
But, like the tiniest sunbeam through a storm, normal everyday events, and worries, and things normalize that stress.
Don't discount the damage that stress can and does cause, especially long term.
But do, oh, please do, embrace the normal that balances it all out.
Embrace the everyday that keeps us afloat.
I have a funny relationship with normal.
The morning we took my husband to the air terminal to leave for the latest deployment, the alarm went off as it always does and he hit the snooze button as he always does.
That felt normal until my skin registered that this would be the last time I’d feel his arms around me for months.
When we finally got ourselves up out of bed we stood side by side at our bathroom sink brushing our teeth….
The dog still needed to be let out.
The garbage still had to be taken to the curb.
I still had to correct my daughter when she teased her sister.
As we drove to base traffic proceeded as normal. There was no indication that the gravity of the goodbye that was hanging over our family was even registering to the outside world.
The line to get on base was backed up. No one felt our urgency in getting him there before the muster began.
We got to the air terminal, parked in the parking lot and a man in a hard hat was pounding metal on metal just a few yards away from us. The sound was deafening.
My babies’ wails began as he told them to “Be Good for Mommy.” The tears came down my face. He hugged us. Held us. And that one last kiss all happened to the sound of that repetitive metallic clank.
My senses raw and ripped open took it all in.
So many moments that feel as though the world should slow down… should perceive that this moment is different than the others.
But it doesn’t.
Because normal keeps happening.
We come home and I worry that I will flounder. And I would flounder….
Except that there are dishes to be done and laundry to be folded, work tasks to accomplish. I move towards these things that are normally drudgery with a sense of a relief. Here. Here I know how to show up. I know the rules. I don’t have to think about the emptiness… or about the hole he left.
The tears don’t fall so hard when I find the worn, comfortable, groove of routine.
I’ll wake up tomorrow and pull school books from the shelf, gather my girls around me and find solace in the practiced rhythm of teaching them. The time will be filled. We’ll find our way to the end of the day and to another X on the calendar by doing the things we always do.
I’ll call a friend, check the news, make meals and clean them up. I’ll see that the girls get their baths, read them bedtime stories, and tuck them in.
And we’ll be ok.
Because normal keeps happening.
1 Comment
RSS Feed
