Normal

I frequently question what is normal and what is not normal for my journey through grief.

It’s not that I want to be *normal* but more the fact that I want to NOT slide into clinical, chronic depression.  I want to continue to maintain functionality, to maintain my forward momentum.

So when I have days and moments like I did last week, I wonder… is what I’m going through *normal* for grief?  Or is it the slide into something not functional?

The answer, according to my doctor, is that I’m normal for an abnormal situation.

I go to work, I’m engaged in work, my mind is active, I’m functioning as well as possible… then I go home.

Home is where the real work begins.  Home is where I’m faced with the loss, where I’ve got to help the children with their grief, with their day to day functioning, where I’ve got to cope with hormones and anger and pushing boundaries.   I get home, and the ability to be “okay” is compromised.

My day truly begins when I get home and face everything that has changed.

So when I’m overwhelmed, when I’m losing my mind, when I’m sitting on my couch, wondering why I’m not doing the dishes or folding the laundry, or crafting… its because I’m grieving.   And that is normal.

It’s nice to know these things.  It’s nice to know that I should worry when I can’t pull myself out of the funk.  That the concern is not being able to see a future.  It’s not about the right now – its about the “is there going to be a tomorrow” that I need to worry about.

There’s always the promise of tomorrow. I have plans.  I have things I look forward to.  I have friends I can’t wait to see.

And then there’s Mike.

I’m “normal” in my grief, in how I’m grieving, in how I’m coping.  I’m learning coping skills that will pull me through this.  It may very well be that in a year, 5 years, 20 years, I’m blindsided by grief again…and that will be normal.

I loved Mark, with every fibre of my being. I loved him hard.  I loved him deep.  He was my best friend, my lover, my soul mate, the person I wanted to grow old with.   I will *always* love him.    I will *forever* miss him.  There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him, wish he was here, wish I could share something with him, wish I could show him, wish I could snuggle with him.  That desire is *always* there.  It always will be.

And that’s normal.

Grey's Anatomy

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