I’m a little tired of being this tired. The thing is, I don’t think that this specific tired is related to losing Steve or the upheaval of our lives. This tired is longer term. As I sent the kids back to school this week, I took a walk down memory lane of back-to-school pictures. It dawned on me that this was the most normal picture I’d taken since the 2019-2020 school year began. We all know how that one ended. That means that the last really “normal” year of school that the kids had was 2018-2019.

E was in fourth grade, G was in sixth and A was in ninth. They’re now in seventh, ninth and 11th. G’s entire middle school career was upset by COVID. A is halfway through his high school experience and finally having what might be (hopefully) a normal year. Even though last year ended on a relatively normal note, they went back to school wearing masks, and fall activities were still attempting to maintain social distances.

For example, E asked me what shirt she should wear for a particular event, and I had to stop myself from saying “just wear whatever you wore last year” because this particular event hasn’t been held in two years. She’s never attended one before. It’s draining to try to constantly remember how we “used to do things,” and not just because we used to be a family of five.

After a few years of our socialization being limited to virtual encounters and social media, re-entry into society and crowds is also taking its toll. I do know that this is exacerbated by our current situation. People we haven’t seen for a while still want to express condolences or ask how we’re doing, and sometimes that can just throw off your mood for an entire evening. It’s this weird loop of wanting things to be normal, so we act like we are, but things aren’t normal, so just about all our interactions have a fake feeling to them, which is very not normal, but we just pretend that it is.

There is still a lot of fallout from the pandemic to deal with, as well. Thanks to the controversies over masks and social distancing, and the rabid stances people on both sides took, I’m a lot more wary of how I interact with people. It’s hard to forgive and forget when people were blatantly rude and ignorant to your face because you asked them to please be considerate of family members who might be high risk, or people who decided to cut you off after you declined an invitation to an event where your entire family might not be comfortable.

It’s difficult to just pretend like these things didn’t happen, and now that life is back to “normal,” we can all just be friends again. It’s draining to carry those kinds of grudges, but it’s also draining to pretend like nothing ever happened.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so exhausted by all of this if I still had Steve by my side, but in talking to many of my friends who haven’t faced the loss we have, I know they feel it, too. With my recent return to work, I feel like I’m feeling what a lot of workers who are returning to an actual work environment after months or even years of working from home are feeling, only amplified.

I really, truly had forgotten how much effort goes into making small talk. I’m not necessarily complaining, sometimes having eight or nine people stop by your work area to “say hi” or “just see how you’re doing” is a much-needed reminder that people do care about you, but at the same time, I’ve really gotten used to working in a quiet place, relatively uninterrupted.

I know my attention span isn’t what it used to be, and that part of it is due to the stress of the past few months, but when you’ve gotten used to working in the quiet of the front porch, or the home office, suddenly having to readjust to the office Muzak, as well as other people’s conversations, doesn’t help. There is also so much ground to cover with people you haven’t seen for years.

The other day, I was talking to a co-worker who I have spoken with regularly over the past few years about work-related things, but it had been a while since we’d been able to sit down and have lunch together. She started telling me about her grandchildren. First of all, the last time we’d really talked about family, she only had one grandchild, and now, he was about to start kindergarten, and I hadn’t even realized she’d added to her brood. There is no way I’ll ever catch up with her on everything that happened in these past few years.

I had similar realizations as other co-workers’ kids, who I remember as just having graduated from high school, are now starting senior years of colleges, or even out into the workplaces already. It makes me more than a little sad to think about how much of my friends’ lives I’ve missed.

It’s not all bad, though, and I see that in my kids. It was a relief for them to head back into school with big smiles on their faces for everyone to see. I know they are looking forward to a “normal” football season, where they will be able to march with the band in full force to perform for a packed stadium. A is excited to have teachers in person that he only had virtually before. G is motivated to cram as much activity and experience into his freshman year, just to make up for the disappointments of middle school.

I see their enthusiasm for upcoming plays, school activities, and sporting events, and yes, even school work. Their experience so far has made them understand that these are not things to be taken for granted, but things that they should appreciate and enjoy being in every single moment. They know their friendships have weathered a storm unlike any other, and the friends who have stuck by their sides are the best kinds of friends. Keeping up with them and their activities and their newfound enthusiasm is also exhausting, but that’s the kind of tired that’s good, and it’s enough to keep getting me out of bed in the morning.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.