I don't believe in normal anymore

Most of the time life feels like an uphill battle. In this house those battles take the form of battling grief, hormones, teenage drama, weird illnesses, medical bills, adhd, anxiety, control, sadness, and fighting for normalcy. Actually, I don't believe in normal anymore. 

I don't believe there was a normal before the pandemic, and I don't believe there will be a normal after the pandemic. I don't think things have been normal in Washington DC for the last four years, and I don't think that normal has now returned to the white house. I don't think things were normal before Justin died, and I don't think they are normal now. I think normal is a lie we tell ourselves so we feel like we are alright.

I was on the elliptical machine at the Y this week and a song came on my playlist. "This is my fight song" 

I almost started pumping my fist in the air to this song. It struck such a cord with me. 

This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

I have felt like I have spent the last 3 1/2 years trying to prove I'm alright, trying to find normal. I have been trying to prove all the things I can do without a husband. I have been trying to show everyone how strong I am, how resilient I am, and how good I am at grief. I even wrote a whole blog about getting a gold star in grief. 

Here's the thing, I am strong and resilient, and I took back my life. I continue to get up every single day and take back my life. And some days that looks like stumbling blindly through all the hard. 

Here's the thing about grief, if you haven't figured it out yet. There is no formula. You don't wake up 3 1/2 years later cured. You can fall in love and even that won't wash away all the pain of what you lost and what you went through. And anyone who hasn't lived in this house with grief, with melanoma, with 5 surgeries in 3 1/2 years, they don't get a say a word and what they say doesn't matter. 

This is my fight song and this is my fight. And here's the truth. I am not alright. And that is okay.  Because quite honestly if I was alright there might actually be something wrong with me. 

My plate is full. On a daily basis, I am balancing more shit than a one legged bear on a beach ball. I have no idea what that means, but I started typing the sentence and it needed a good analogy. If you have a better one please let me know what it is. This analogy feels appropriately bizarre.

Just in the last five days I took my daughter for another surgery at the hospital, worked forty hours, went to the Y four times, did bible study, cooked dinner four times, put away five loads of laundry, paid bills, sat on hold with the IRS because I still haven't received my 2019 tax return, and was a mom and a girlfriend. 

I am about to turn forty-five and I am peri-menopausal. So, I have fun new normal hormonal times where I cry like I did postpartum about Sydney going away to college, except this time she is actually going away to college. 

I cry more than I have ever in my life. I am more vulnerable and open than ever. I am paying attention to what is going on around me. I care and I love and I cry. 

You all, I am tired. 

Tired is about as close to normal as I get anymore. 

But like a small boat on the ocean, sending big waves into motion. I will continue to take back my life. I will figure out how to balance love and grief. I will keep fighting for my girls. I will show up to the battle daily armed with what I have. 

And I will keep telling you that the only reason for normal, the only normal that matters is the normal of a God who keeps showing up. A God who gives me strength, a fire burning in my bones. I still believe. 

And though it feels hard and heavy and crushing daily, I will keep on, because this life is short. We should love God and love people, and this should be normal no matter who is president.

I might only have one match but I will make an explosion. Cause I've still got a lot of life left to live, even if it isn't normal.