A long view of time can replenish our sense of ourselves and the world.

A long view of time can replenish our sense of ourselves and the world.

I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Every so often when campers know I’ve been pretty poorly over the past few years, they ask me how everything is. I reply with that it’s the most “normal” I’ve felt in 3-4 years.
But it got me thinking: on Returning to Normalcy … What Does that Even Mean?
The last time i worked at Sandy Island, properly, My life was in a state of mental whiplash and I barely even realized it. In barely a few years I’ve gone from being in a death spiral to staying up super late drinking wine with friends, climbing icelandic waterfalls, running for late buses. I went from planning out my funeral to doing radiation oncology and beginning to start a PhD. I’ve gone from thinking I’d never step foot at Sandy Island again, to working my longest summer contract here.
But it’s taken me to get to this summer to look back to see just how far I have come, compared to even just last year. Even in January this year. Even April.
Before going further I have to share how profoundly grateful I am to everyone. I can’t even write these words without gushing tears.
So the thought of a return to normalcy is like a warm embrace: to feel like the last few years were a mere aberration that has been rectified. I can’t explain the joy I got when my brain could feel bored and my body wanted to live again. I have about 4–6 hours a day that feel like they did before. The thought of getting to blend my social passions with community and art and social change immediately sets me to problem solving and creating again. Or the thought of unlocking a new meaningful lifestyle that I can plan for has me losing sleep piecing it together while I should be sleeping. I tweeted the other day that I’m already overwhelmed by the projects I’d like to work on now. It made me so happy to tweet it, to feel like I could be back to normal.
But how can I expect life to be normal? I’m still on a small doses of medications to help with everything from pain, to swelling, to hormone balances, to immune function stuff. As much as a return to normalcy seems the obvious goal, I’m definitely not normal now – so much pain & fatigue, still, and it just hit me I have no idea what was so great about normalcy before.
Being in the USA, seeing friends, being at Sandy Island with friends (staff and campers) has been incredible because these friends are all hard chargers, both professionally and personally. They’re exciting to be around because they are making the most of all parts of their lives and doing so thoughtfully. One of them asked what the projects were I was referencing in my above tweet, and in full imposter syndrome mode I stumbled at trying to explain what I was going to professionally do.
I constantly share that my biggest life insight is that while you have the time, optimize on the meaning you find in life.

In some rush towards normalcy and wanting to make the most of said normalcy, I find myself leaping to my old life – a life where I didn’t see my family, I made excuses not to see friends so I could just work or do less meaningful things. I told myself that I was going to do loads of things at Sandy this year, and I didn’t – as much as I wanted to. I should have spent more nights with Julz and Katy. I should have visited Anya more. I should have drank with Chris more. So many shoulda-woulda-coulda’s. Instead, I spent a lot of time trying to catch up with online stuff (such slow, at times non-existent, wifi). I spent quite a bit of time in bed – fatigue. I spent time that I have no idea where I spent the time?!
So there, Sandy Island: I‘ve been racing to get back to normalcy, racing to shed my death shroud, and I’m on the verge of disrespecting what I’ve been living through just to feel “normal.”
What is so great about normal?. Many of the years of trying to work as a freelance artist were financially crippling. The past years working freelance and undertaking clinical placement whilst feeling ill were exhausting.
Am I sick or am I better? Is a return to normalcy my goal or my loss? How can I maintain this profound sense of gratefulness for life, if I queue up in the same old lines?
Is my death shroud an exoskeleton I can to pull myself out of, instead of dragging it along?
This summer has given me the time to reflect upon this, and think out what’s next, and Sandy Island people are helping me figure this new chapter out, and reminding me just how lucky I am. I’ve never felt so loved in my life; and I am so grateful to be.
Special friends have showed me just how normal love looks. It’s not always a mad-dash to the airport, it can just be a heartfelt hug for you feeling better. It can be an incredible gift like a personalised book full of love and wisdom to help guide you when you’re not super sure what’s next. It could be a cool turtle dove as a reference to your most favourite movie ever (friends for ever — home alone 2!).
The gratitude i feel for all of this is completely over-whelming.
A pilgrim is said to carry all their back-path with them as they move forward. It is the back-path that brought us to where we are now. Without it, we cannot enter the path that lays in front of us.

So i’ve been asking myself: Can I make a future of the unknown and still be myself? Can I ever return to normal? And why do I want to?
Thanks for reading this far if you have.

Much love always, your friend – smizz x