Normalcy

Another discussion came up for Andy and I as we were reflecting on our time together as a family.  In the context of coping with my permanent ostomy, the idea of finding "a new normal" has come up many times, that I am struggling with an ongoing grieving process and attempting to establish how to live with this permanent fixture in our lives.  It's like losing a loved one--grief isn't about crying for two months and then being magically better.  With each new experience, there's a part of you that wonders what that missing person would have thought or how they would have enjoyed that particular event--another wave of grief rolling in, fresh and painful as it ever was, even if you've found a few ways to cope more easily.  Grief is a process.  So is living.  Living with grief is a different process.  

Anyway, Andy's observation was that "normal" once it has been found only lasts for maybe three to six months at a time.  I had to chew on that.  Obviously, since I'm scribbling it out here, I'm still chewing on it.  I cannot disagree in principle, though I might have a few thoughts on the timeline.  

As a general example, right now, I reserve early Saturday afternoons to get some writing time in, I teach Sunday School at church on Sunday mornings, Wednesdays are choir practice, I go to the gym on Mondays and Fridays, and I play D&D with two separate groups on Thursdays and Fridays.  Andy and I tend to reserve Tuesday evenings, Saturday mornings and evenings, and Sunday afternoons for each other, or otherwise taking in some individual decompression time as needed.  

BUT, Tuesdays can also be times we invite folks over to our place.  Saturdays sometimes change to different adventures.  Choir is ending for the summer.  I've added in rowing with my normal Zumba times, and, actually, one of my normal scheduled times is not meeting over the course of the summer, so I'm gearing up to get back into the pool again.  The next two weekends I'll be out of town on Saturday and Sunday.  Even though the hours at work are the same, seemingly as a constant, I have a number of different projects that I'll find myself immersed in that make for a very different feel on any given day.  

These are all comparatively small changes.  But my "normal" schedule for the week is wholly disrupted.  The scaffolding is similar, but it's definitely different.  Even some of these consistencies have not been consistencies until comparatively recently.  

But as human beings, we like patterns.  We're comfortable in patterns.  We stand in the same place in gym class and even get territorial when someone takes our stall in the bathroom at work.  I've been going to the same Starbucks to write, even though there are several options in town.  Although, I admit it is fun to sit in someone's spot and watch the confusion on their face from time to time--some people will even confront you about it.  

Andy and I had recently been hurting for a normal week, that we needed to not be doing everything for a little while; and yet, I'm still not sure what that even means.  How much of the week has to be the same in order to "count" as a normal week?  If I have a substitute gym instructor, is that significant enough to knock out the routine?  If D&D is cancelled, does that make the week out of sync?  What are the necessary parameters that need to be in place to make something normal?  When does something happen often enough for it to become the normal?  Does the speed at which things change affect how soon elements are considered normal?  When we want a normal week, do we really mean a boring or predictable week, or are we needing to recognize that the week we're living is actually quite normal and our perspective is what isn't?  Are there different levels of normal based on the person that make the week count as normal or not, getting into macro v micro?  Where is the line for when we can and cannot comfortably break the pattern?  

At what point can we shed the illusion and just live?