My New Normal
By Rhobie Toussaint
On March 13, I woke up after snoozing my alarm numerous times. Little did I know, March 13 was also the last day I woke up at 5:30 AM, went to school, and saw my school friends. It was the last day I knew what “normal’ was.
It is currently a little past Mid-April, over one month after my last day at school (though I didn’t know it was my last day at the time). [Mostly] Everything has changed. My mornings on weekdays begin with classes via Zoom that I dread to wake up for. Sometimes I wake up early enough to do my devotional before “class,” and other days I do them right before falling asleep again.
Every day my mom calls my name over five times to help her with something. She, a teacher, also has to work from home now. I know this is all new to her too, but I can’t help rolling my eyes at least once every other day before reluctantly rolling out of bed, dragging my feet to the living room, and plastering a fake smile on my face right before saying “yes, mom.”
There are times when I am so lucky that my mom remembers that she needs something else right before I open my bedroom door. I take a deep breath, turn around and walk right back to the living room.
Whenever I exit my room it is always for a specific reason — to remind my dad to take his medicine, to eat, to go to the bathroom, to step outside for five minutes so I can remember what it feels like to be outside and then washing my hands again, things of that sort.
And on the (very) few occasions when I get to step into the car and head to Publix for groceries, I see masks on everyone, everywhere. But it doesn’t seem like anyone’s afraid. It’s as if they are simply used to this, as if they have accepted that this is their new normal.
Then when I get back home, I bring the groceries inside, change my clothes, wash my hands, and then sanitize everything (safety precautions). By then, it is usually time for another nap, but sometimes I get a reminder that I have an assignment due in a few hours instead. On those days, I glare at my laptop before opening it.
Some days I write, some days I ignore the news alerts of how many new cases of COVID-19 there are in Florida, but of course, I can’t forget the days when I lay in bed for hours with a million thoughts swirling around in my head.
Some of them are so convoluted that I can barely make any sense of them.
If I want to talk to my friends, then I have to call them. And if we want to see each other, we FaceTime. We reminisce on the days where social distancing wasn’t in place, before realizing that just over a month ago, our lives were completely different.
Just over a month ago I was planning a trip to the beach. Just over a month ago I was allowed to go to church services throughout the week and I was able to hug everyone after service was over.
Just over a month ago, my “normal” was different. And now, it will never be the same.
In the words of an article I read, “It’s a slow life, this social distancing thing.” Even when I was writing this piece, it was still mind-blowing to think about the fact that EVERYTHING was different just over a month ago. And even after this passes, nothing will ever be the same.
Every day can feel like a blur when you’re home all day, every day, but the extra time also leaves an opportunity to self-reflect, to make changes that you’ve been putting off. You can take up new hobbies and try out new things.
Right now, all of us have a different ‘normal.’ In fact, the very picture of what normal looks like in our minds is probably all distorted. But we can make something of it.
Make something of your new normal.
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