The storm rages inside and out.
When do things "get back to normal"?
It’s been two days since an almost-cyclone twisted through our town and I’m welcoming the calm with a French Press coffee and utter exhaustion.
We’d been warned that Cyclone Alfred was hurtling towards our coastline last week and spent days preparing: 80 litres of spare water, torches placed in every room, emergency radio charged, food stacked in tins, and every loose item outside roped down or moved away.
Schools closed, supermarket shelves ran bare and we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The storm began to slow 60km from the coastline, imminently ominous, biding its time to wreak havoc and stretching the nerves of all who lived in its 360km path.
Friends and family messaged with love and prayers and reminders to fill the gas bottle.
We ran out of fresh fruit and vegetables and shifted to honey on toast, saving preserved foods in anticipation of power outages and ravaged stores.
Cabin fever rose as tempers shortened.
Each gust of wind a reminder of Poseidon’s sardonic wit.
Until, finally the storm came.
Cyclones are an unpredictable beast and the forecast had Alfie make landfall as a Category 2 or 3, causing storm surges to flood the previously un-floodable.
But like a bad date, he kept changing plans and there was a palpable relief when, over two wild nights, what finally arrived was a strong tropical low system.
Towns and suburbs to the south of ours flooded, tree debris covered the streets, and a house down the road lost a roof.
By the Grace of God, we came out the other side with nothing but a broken night’s sleep and the seedy hangover of prolonged anticipation.
Today it’s back to business as usual — even as I hear the roar of wood chippers eating fallen trees across the way — and I feel a familiar whiplash of “that just happened, now get back to normal.”
(A similar sensation to 2021 that doesn’t gel with my nervous system.)
To be honest, we still haven’t settled into this year’s normal and I’m sitting here realising that it hasn’t just been the past week that I’ve waited with bated breath to see what comes next.
For five years life has thrown us tangents and stumbling rocks along unpaved roads. At this point, I starting to learn it probably always will.
2025 alone has already taken a couple of detours. Despite both the boys attending school, I’m being pulled into the battles of motherhood with a greater force than almost any year before and I’m back to triaging “whose needs in what order??”
Work changes are imminent for both my husband and myself (and of course, there’s the issue of the world going to hell in a hand-basket).
I’ve written lately about feeling fragmented and while I don’t yet have a solution I’ve at least narrowed down that my brain fog stems from either exhaustion OR late-night Corn Flakes OR the first signs of perimenopause.
(I can’t handle the possibility of all three.)
So this week, when the power lines are still down and there’s no bread to be found, I might just pause a beat, to recalibrate and fortify, before taking the next step.
Today I’ll focus on the tangible to remember that this moment is real:
Journaling
Lifting weights
Visiting the farmer’s market
Planting seeds
Getting to bed on time
Simple things that I know lead to good outcomes.
I wonder what your go-to resets are when life is in flux? I’d love for you to share them here.
Until next time,
Jenn x
This reminds me of all the time we spent getting ready for hurricanes here in SW Florida. We’ve been lucky. The last one that blew through completely destroyed Ft. Myers beach but somehow we were untouched. You never know which way the wind blows.
Loved your story Jenn!! Suzanne Charnes