Well, I have survived a little over a year without adult supervision, and I've actually learned some things.
Bounce dryer sheets eliminate static cling better than Snuggle dryer sheets.
Two out of three times, a half-gallon of milk in my refrigerator will go "blinky" before I can finish it.
Muscle memory is a real thing as I still put the seat up and down when utilizing the facilities.
Most times, I can now make a tank of gas last at least a month, which means a bigger ammo budget.
Spiders do not have to immediately be killed "just because."
Previously hilarious "must see" t.v. shows don't seem as funny now as they used to be.
Even though I now live alone, ending phone calls to loved ones by saying, "We love you" is a hard habit to break.
There are a lot more things I could list, but one important thing I've learned is that life will never "get back to normal."
There's just no way to bring back the one who defined my "normal." I can only move forward as just "me" instead of "we." And that will always feel a bit awkward instead of normal. Becoming okay with the "new awkward" as my "new normal" will pretty much be an ongoing process from now on. I'm still figuring out if I'll be awkwardly normal or normally awkward.
Second, I'm not sure many people would have considered me normal in the first place. Insert your own joke here.
So getting back to normal is off the table. Life has changed. I have changed. A big chunk of my life--of me--is gone, but I am pressing on. I'm too stubborn not to.
I was an ornery cuss when Candi was around every day. Without her adult supervision, I'm an even bigger ol' mess. But I'm not complaining or looking for sympathy here because I know I'm not the only one that has experienced loss. In one way or another, we all have. I just want you to know that if my leaky, barnacle-encrusted hull can navigate through turbulent waters, you can too. Just stay afloat best you can.
So I still lack adult supervision, but thanks to divine intervention, I haven't blown anything up yet...well, almost anything.
Bounce dryer sheets eliminate static cling better than Snuggle dryer sheets.
Two out of three times, a half-gallon of milk in my refrigerator will go "blinky" before I can finish it.
Muscle memory is a real thing as I still put the seat up and down when utilizing the facilities.
Most times, I can now make a tank of gas last at least a month, which means a bigger ammo budget.
Spiders do not have to immediately be killed "just because."
Previously hilarious "must see" t.v. shows don't seem as funny now as they used to be.
Even though I now live alone, ending phone calls to loved ones by saying, "We love you" is a hard habit to break.
There are a lot more things I could list, but one important thing I've learned is that life will never "get back to normal."
There's just no way to bring back the one who defined my "normal." I can only move forward as just "me" instead of "we." And that will always feel a bit awkward instead of normal. Becoming okay with the "new awkward" as my "new normal" will pretty much be an ongoing process from now on. I'm still figuring out if I'll be awkwardly normal or normally awkward.
Second, I'm not sure many people would have considered me normal in the first place. Insert your own joke here.
So getting back to normal is off the table. Life has changed. I have changed. A big chunk of my life--of me--is gone, but I am pressing on. I'm too stubborn not to.
I was an ornery cuss when Candi was around every day. Without her adult supervision, I'm an even bigger ol' mess. But I'm not complaining or looking for sympathy here because I know I'm not the only one that has experienced loss. In one way or another, we all have. I just want you to know that if my leaky, barnacle-encrusted hull can navigate through turbulent waters, you can too. Just stay afloat best you can.
So I still lack adult supervision, but thanks to divine intervention, I haven't blown anything up yet...well, almost anything.