The last several months have held a whirlwind of change, not just because of the pandemic but in my every day life, as well. This week marked the beginning of things going back to a semblance of normal, also not just because of the pandemic, but in every day life as well. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions, I’ve been stressed as fuck, I forgot to eat for a couple days and let nicotine and caffeine and sheer stubbornness keep me moving forward. During the last few days the stars aligned. . . Or fell. . . However you want to look at it. . . and a lot got taken away from me. Or lifted from me. Again, however you want to look at it.
Y’all know I’m being purposely vague, because I’d rather not get into the nitty gritty details while it’s all so fresh. But I’ve had to shift my definition of ‘normal’ a couple times already this year, and it’s tiresome. I had a routine down, I knew what to expect day in and day out (with in reason – my hooligans surprise me with crazy shit all the time, of course). . . And then boom. Time for a new normal. And just as I was getting adjusted to that normal, something else would come along and change it up.
I don’t do change. I like a schedule, I like routine. All this change made me tired. It made me weary.
This week marks another change, and it’s one I’m semi-cool with. I know more about this normal, because it’s more dependant on my own actions, my own needs and wants. Sounds selfish. Probably is. My give a fuck is pretty worn out right now. Again, my hooligans needs and wants outweigh my own. But otherwise. . . ? I’m familiar with who I am and what I want and how to obtain it. This I can navigate fairly easily.
I did take a moment to mourn letting go of the previous normal I had become accustomed to, and it struck me that my old normal, my original normal if you will, was still there, dependable as ever. My routines still worked, and my steadfast friends and rock music were there to cheer me up. My rose colored glasses still fit, and weren’t any worse for the wear.
This morning as I sat contemplating how to move forward, not just one, but two Cardinals flew into my yard and landed on the fence over my garden. I believe whole heartedly in signs, and I couldn’t take that any other way than as a visit from my parents to bolster me and give me the push I needed to find the good, to dig down and remember just who the fuck I am. Stand straight, brace your neck, be strong, daughter. Remember who’s daughter you are, and straighten your crown. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t experience a serious blow, I’d be a liar if I pretended that the shit I just went through didn’t hurt like hell. But I’ve been through so much worse. This was just a bump in the road.
And hell. Maybe this new old normal means I’ll start writing again.