The Weight of Ordinary Days

No one tells you how heavy normal life feels after everything changes. The world expects you to return to routines; to answer emails, make dinner, show up on time. And on the outside, it might look like you are.

But inside, everything is different. I came to appreciate the everyday chores of dishes and laundry where I did not have to make a heavy decision. I had decision fatigue. 

There’s a quiet exhaustion that comes from carrying something invisible. Grief doesn’t clock out. It doesn’t wait for a convenient moment. It comes with you into the grocery store, into conversations, into the spaces where life is supposed to feel simple.

And sometimes, the hardest part isn’t the big moments. It’s the ordinary ones; the frustrating moments when you are trying your best to learn a new salsa dance pattern and your brain and body will not engage. That lack of control hits you like the death of your loved one while an unsuspecting dance instructor sees you break down in tears and wonders what they did. 

The ones that remind you how much has changed. I’m learning that it’s okay if ordinary days feel heavy. That doesn’t mean I’m failing; it means I’m carrying something real. And maybe the goal isn’t to make life feel light again.

Maybe it’s to learn how to carry the weight without losing myself in it.