I’ve spent the majority of my life thinking: I want to be normal. I want to wake up, have my coffee and breakfast, go to work, see friends, and do stuff that normal people do. Except, I don’t do that. I spend a lot of time fighting with the thoughts in my head that tell me “you’re doing that wrong,” “you’re a bad person,” “you’re not competent,” “you’re a flaky friend,” “you’re bad with money,” “you can’t keep a job” and a frequent thought is “you’re not normal.”

These thoughts haunt me every single day, but the one that stands out is “you’re not normal.”  It almost immediately makes me cry. When that mean outside voice jumps into my brain and tells me “you’re not normal,” I want to put on some boxing gloves and clock it in the face, except that the voice has already sucker punched me by telling me those words.

Today, I started to cry thinking about how “abnormal” I was. But I stopped myself.

Wait, self! What is normal? 

Those people, the ones that seem to do “have it all together,” the ones that drink their coffee, perfectly manage their money, and keep jobs for 10 years, I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. They could be dealing with all kinds of shit that I’m unaware of.

Because the truth of the matter is that there is no normal.

Everyone is dealing with something and we all show it differently. Some people are more sensitive and in touch with their feelings than others. Other people keep it to themselves.

Normal is a curse word.

Fuck normal.

I’m gonna do me.

Some days I feel wonderful, while other days I question my road in life. That’s who I am, flaws and all.

It is my flaws and the honesty surrounding them that make me better able to express myself as a writer and that I would not change for the world.

The next time “I’m not normal” pops into my head, I’m going to remind myself that no, I’m not normal, because there is no normal. I’m a flawed human being and a better writer for it.