Losing touch

A new normal in 2024

Saturday night during December in West Hollywood is, by all accounts, a glitzy landscape. But inside my body, it is quiet. I watch as Dudley sniffs every square inch of the bushes on our street; he and I seem to occupy an exquisite pocket of peacefulness that I haven’t ever really experienced in this town before, save for the first few weeks of the pandemic. The contrast is stark against the bustle around us. I hear the whiz of Ubers and Lyfts on Fountain and a couple of two-person conversations overlap Christmas music in one of the apartments nearby. I look down at my sweats and slippers, covered in dog hair. How different this holiday season is from last year’s.

Joan Didion famously said, “I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be.” Each seismic change in my life - graduating, marriage, cross-country moves, divorce, re-marriage, and now, sobriety - has led to a new iteration of me. It only makes sense, then, that with each person I become, I have to establish a new normal for her. When it comes to big transformations, we often talk about needing to grieve the old versions of ourselves and greet the new ones. But what about after all of that, after the grandiosity of this ritual? What about the minutiae of daily life - what then?

This is where I’m at right now, and it happens to line up perfectly with the holiday season. I’ve gone through the spectacle, I’ve grieved Old Holiday Sarah - in fact, I may always grieve her; I still see her taking tequila shots at glamorous Beverly Hills parties and feel my stomach drop out of longing. I’ve also welcomed the new Sarah - I find pride in giving her space to read in her dog hair sweats and go to bed early if that’s what she needs to make it through this first sober holiday season.

But at some point, I have to set up something new, a way of life that I can call a baseline that fits this Sarah because she’s the one I’m in touch with for the foreseeable future. We so often put such a huge priority on that grand rebirth, but I can’t remember when someone other than my therapist last challenged me to map out what I want for the new Sarah everyday thereafter. In fact, I might even say this isn’t so much as a challenge as it is a tabula rasa - an opportunity for the new normal to be co-designed by me and the Universe.

So now I am seeking to establish a new set of standards that will take me through the next holiday season. My imagination is my only limit. Now that I’ve grieved the old and greeted the new, what kind of new normal - habits, attitudes, traditions, narratives - do I want to create this year that can take me into 2024? And can I be sure to remain flexible, so that the new normal adapts and gives me space to transform?

This is what I ask of you, too, gentle reader, if you are also going through a major transformation. If you’re not, consider this question for next time - or, you could even consider your “normal” now and if it works for you. You don’t need a major shift to grant permission to establish a new normal. Any time is a good time to realign and get on track to an authentic day-to-day.

For now, then, my new normal is giving myself quiet nights at home with Eric and the pets, working through my To-Be-Read list while I let my peaceful sobriety settle into my cells. It’s telling my friends that I might not be as responsive to texts and DMs because my social battery is often depleted these days and that it’s not personal. Maybe it’s going to movies by myself, which I’ve been doing a lot lately, and have really started to enjoy. It is definitely more date nights with Eric at home on the couch instead of at venues. And all of those are okay. And whatever feelings arise when these things take place (such as FOMO, grief, excitement, ambivalence), I greet them and let them pass through my body with their wisdom absorbed.

Dudley finishes sniffing the last bush and looks at me to tell me it’s time to go back inside. Back in our apartment, I sit on the couch with my book, and Dudley plops down at my feet. Plisken slithers to the blanket on my lap and curls up, warming me with his tiny body, and he falls into a deep sleep. Although I have plenty of ideas, it’s still too early to know what the new normal will be - but if it’s anything like this, for now, I’m excited.

Until next week, I love you -

Sarah

• Last night’s New Moon in Sagittarius, and all of the seeds I’m planting for 2024

• My altar for the above New Moon

• If your best friend died, could you finish writing their novel? Leslie Jamison is willing to try. (The New Yorker)

• Ozzy Osbourne Talks About Health Struggles, But Holds Out Hope For One Last Show

• I just finished The Way of Integrity by Martha Beck, and omg it’s a life-changer

• I’ve finished 52 books so far in 2023 and I am poised to finish four more by the end of December

• Therapy, lots of therapy