Lately I’ve been restless, at times listless, and frequently disoriented. I had hoped the feelings would pass – and they do, briefly. But then they return with a vengeance, and only recently have I come to realize that I could sum up the current situation by saying that I’ve lost my sense of “normal.”
One of the difficulties in transitioning from one life stage to another is trying to find a new “normal” – at least – a new normal that suits, even if temporarily.
That “normal” that we seek?
It’s about regular activities; the routines and rhythms that form the structure that contains them. It’s about enough stability even in the moment to see who we are, what we’re doing here, and how to behave.
But it’s more than that. It’s a mindset. It’s acceptance. It’s recognizing your life.
“Normal” isn’t a word I use very often. I don’t care to compare myself (or my life) to anyone’s expectations but my own. Still, we all have communities, most of us have families; “normal” in the eyes of those whose opinions count is something we care about. More important – we need a sense of normalcy for ourselves. To be ourselves.
What is Normal?
Dictionary.com offers the following definition of normal in a non-specific context, and then, in a psychological one:
conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural;
psychology: approximately average in any psychological trait, as intelligence, personality, or emotional adjustment; free from any mental disorder, sane
Part of the issue – for me – is that my “normal” in the past 11 years included fear over my shoulder, warfare in the background, skirmishes and scars from an untidy divorce. While I’m glad that the more active aspects of that situation have abated, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been conditioned as a result: to expect the worst, to fret over what lurks behind me, to be ready for battle and for disappointment.
To be both worn and distracted by the necessity of that readiness.
How Long To… ?
Of course, if what you’re struggling with is coming back to your “regular, natural” rhythm following a life event like the breakup of a marriage, you may find yourself posing questions like:
- How long to recover from divorce?
- How long before I start dating again?
- How long before the children will adjust to dealing with two homes?
- How long until I get used to my spouse’s remarriage?
And if it’s unemployment? The questions are similar. How long to find work that pays the bills, that restores my sense of self, that allows the worry to lessen – at least for awhile.
Maybe the life event is a happier one – a shiny new spouse, the birth of a child, or relocation for a great new job.
But it’s the change which is at issue, and the need to reestablish routines of familiarity in which we know ourselves, we know what’s expected, and everything doesn’t feel unsettling. And we pose the same questions of “how long until” – while simultaneously enjoying the pleasure and pride of a new marital status, an infant, or the corner office.
Processing (Too) Many Life Events at Once
When many significant events coincide, finding a new rhythm is difficult – okay, make that God-awful. We’re processing so many changes that we don’t know which end is up. We’re crazed, we’re sleepless, we’re unable to eat (or overeating); we feel out of control, we try to put some structure around the unknown, but it isn’t enough – or fast enough.
It’s like those days in high school spent pouring over mathematical equations. X and y and ab this and cd that. If too many variables are unknown, solving to anyone’s satisfaction is impossible. No amount of moving the elements around will produce the desired result.
So what if you’re dealing with marriage and new baby and relocation and mother-in-law problems all at once?
What if you’re dealing with divorce, teenage dramas, illness, and job loss – simultaneously?
My Normal Has Gone Missing
It’s only been in recent days that I’ve been able to pinpoint some of my current discontent. There are very real worries – finances for one – but it’s more than that, as I begin to see that I’ve yet to establish a “new normal.”
I feel loss. It is acute, and it is specific. It is also generalized and sweeping.
For twenty years my days began with my children – regardless of the demands of the corporate or freelance jobs I worked, and whether or not my spouse was around. First and foremost, the structure of my days dealt with their physical and emotional care, and six months ago, that came to an end.
I do not have a “purpose,” which doesn’t mean I don’t have interests and passions, it doesn’t mean I’m not appreciative of what I have, and it doesn’t mean I’ve entirely lost my way. But the paths I’m attempting aren’t working. I’m strangling in my own constraints. I can look at my accomplishments of the past and be proud, yet I’m struggling with motivation, which doesn’t mean I’ve lost aspiration or inspiration.
I’m unable to grasp now, much less imagine the future.
Despite love in my life – a gift for which I’m grateful, albeit reluctant to yield to my own vulnerability – there’s been so much change in the past year, I don’t know which way is up or what to do next.
(Non) Midlife Crisis, Old Routines
No, it’s not a midlife crisis, but it is a crisis of sorts. Perhaps of many sorts.
What do you do when you run out of money and options? What do you do when you feel you’ve failed your purpose? What do you do when you’ve lost your signposts? What do you do when you’re so tired you can’t reorient?
This past weekend, I decided to jolt myself out of the routine of morning writing and try something that used to be part of my “old normal” – striking out bright and early Saturday to do the errands: dry cleaner, grocery shopping, post office, gas station – followed by a minimal number of chores around the house.
I was strangely energized by the bustle of others engaged in domestic tasks. For a few hours I felt like I belonged to something; I didn’t mind the time spent circling for parking places, the lines at the market, the wait at the drive-thru laundry.
But the next day, I was as inside of myself and outside of myself as “usual” which, theoretically, you could call my current non-normal.
Where to Light – In the Dark
I’m not depressed, exactly.
I’m floating. I’m drifting. I’m running down the clock. And this isn’t like me.
Try as I might, I’ve been unable to secure a viable rhythm in these past months. Part of the dilemma is a lack of regular employment or consistent project work that would enforce a more predictable hourly routine – the role that getting up each day and tending to my children played for years, as career was structured around parenting responsibilities.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that two decades aren’t reconfigured in six months, but this is something more: the mind that doesn’t know where to light, the empty rooms with their innumerable echoes, the weariness that dogs me as one day runs into the next.
The overwhelming sense of powerlessness. The fear of that other shoe, dropping.
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I am in the same situation too – waiting for the other shoe to drop. Changing from an 8-5 Monday through Friday job to three twelve hour shifts with some weekends is a huge change. Factor in divorce, moving into a new house, keeping up with the house, caring for two dogs and a cat that were not going to be given up because of a divorce, two separate visitation schedules and working an extra job to make up for lost income and you have mi vida loca.
I do like that I have four theoretical “days off” but I am so frustrated that I can’t get more done in terms of my own writing and research (trying to finish a PhD is somewhere on my list). I miss the rhythm of the 5 day work week and the structure that went with it. I thought I would be so much more effective (whatever that means) now that I don’t have to walk on eggshells at home. I forgot to add the “recovering perfectionist” too.
Brene Brown’s work on Women and Shame has been really helpful to me in the spare 30 minutes or so a day that I have to read and absorb her wisdom. I highly recommend her books and workshops.
I hear you, Laura. And that “recovering perfectionist” theme is none too easy to deal with as well.
I feel adrift, too. My divorce was 10 years ago, and my children are teens: one a delight, one a typical bitter, sullen nightmare. Of course I wonder, how much of this is the divorce, how much because I have been unemployed for almost a year, how much was being in and out of the hospital a year ago? It’s times like these I’m glad my love lives far away, yet I find myself wishing for the Knight in Shining Armor to arrive and that, too, creates its own internal angst. I’m coming to terms with my sensitivity, my vulnerability, wishing I were stronger, invincible, while knowing that pretending to be that way caused a world of hurt, professionally and personally. What IS normal, I ask myself. And am I able to find it, or will I continually seek a balance that may not be discoverable?
I don’t know what’s “normal” Gretchen, or how much people pretend to be living a normal that we’re trained to aspire to, and feel inferior if that isn’t what we live. I can’t help but think that the drag of unemployment is a major factor and the impacts, obviously, seep onto our kids.
I’m sorry for what you’re going through and understand – all too well. If there’s anything I can do to help – other than listen and empathize – please let me know. The pretending is harder than it looks.
Really interesting thoughts here. I actually had a similar conversation about having a purpose with my mom just last month. She feels the same aimlessness. And as we begin the adoption process I have begun thinking about what it will be like when I’m no longer working. Granted it will be about two years before the child is actually placed with us, but it will be the first time in my adult life that I’ve not worked full time and I wonder about how the change to my “normal” will feel.
I’m glad you found your errands energizing. Is there some way that you could find other ways to do things that are “outside” yourself to help ease the transition? Volunteering. Exercising. Watching all the movies you missed while you were raising kids? Perhaps you’ll find that with time the adjustment will happen on its own, even without your intense focus on it?
Along these lines….I’m so stressed out that I’ve completely ripped out my left eyebrow five times over. It will never be the same. There is a Luke Perry slash through the middle, and at the end, it grows straight out like Einstein.
Sadly, I’m not as moodily cool as Perry or insanely brilliant as Einstein.
I feel this often, though I don’t know why. For me, it’s as though nothing changes and I just tread water through the days leading to … well, you get it.
I have to say, these lines? “…this is something more: the mind that doesn’t know where to light, the empty rooms with their innumerable echoes, the weariness that dogs me as one day runs into the next. The overwhelming sense of powerlessness. The fear of that other shoe, dropping.”
Gorgeous.
dearest D
waving to you from the flight from los angeles back to nyc.
just wanted to say that your honesty has engendered a breathtaking deep sigh and identification in your readers and in the comments and that alone has to make it worthwhile – a purpose, if you like.
when we get stuck and lost we do a couple of things – we try to get to bed early for at least two nights in a row (sleeplessness being a real problem in our listlessness) and then – bear with us on this one – it’s a tiny bit Craft-y – but it works – a vision board.
there’s something about tearing out pictures and words and titles and ideas and not censoring ourself and pasting them on a board while listening to great music and a large pot of tea on a tray nearby and something to nibble on and a cool breeze from an open window and most probably candles even if it’s daylight outside there’s something about candlelight that brings forth the muse…..
and then – when the board is done – we look closely and end up saying:
“hmmmm, no idea we Wanted to do/be That Next?!”
and all along the new normal was searching for us.
is that too esoteric?
but the best thing was reading your post – and then the comments – it reminded us of the phrase (Muriel R?) “if one woman told the truth about her life, the world would break open”
that’s what blogs are.
the sound of the world breaking open before it is re-formed.
yes, jet lag descending.
but also hope.
sending strong thoughts and supportive smiles.
_tg xx
I don’t think I’ve found my new normal yet since the kids struck out on their own. Maybe it’s harder for mothers since we tend to identify ourselves by our (sometimes hidden) desire to be needed by our kids. When they are grown and gone, we struggle with our purpose. I feel for you as you struggle with this. You aren’t alone.
But, depending on the situation, maybe sometimes “normal” is the last thing we really want to be! 😉
This post has stayed with me for days since I first read it. I can empathize — my circumstances are by no means the same, but I know the need for a new routine to fill the old, the desire for “purpose.” And fearing the other shoe. I swing between actively storming the walls of my limitations and shrinking from them. A middling pace or level of effort I could sustain would be nice, but life doesn’t exactly make that an option a lot of the time.
Thinking of you and hoping a “normal” you like will begin to emerge soon for you.
Thank you, CT. I know you’ve weathered your own storms and none too simple. A little perspective always helps, as do good things that happen for good people.
Don’t forget poetry. Make it a practice.
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
–William Carlos Williams
Women too.
That’s a beauty, Wolf.