The Wall

I hate the phrase “new normal.” It sounds so clean. So adaptive. So corporate. Like a poster in an HR office after some organizational disaster. My “new normal” is that the love of my life died and now I do triage on a household while pretending to know what the hell I’m doing. That’s not a new normal. That’s a forced occupation. I didn’t choose this version of life. I didn’t gradually evolve into it. It was dropped on me like a piano from the sky and now everyone wants to act like I’m supposed to decorate around it. Sure, I understand the concept. Life changes. People adapt. Language tries to soften the blow. Still hate it. Because every time I hear it, what I really hear is: please package your devastation into something manageable for others. No thanks. Some things don’t become normal just because they become regular.