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.
Let me be contrarian and say that normal is important as a social/cultural concept. Less so now, maybe, but in the past it was an idea that helped bind communities together. It provides a cultural base that encourages empathy and understanding of the people around us, even if no one conforms perfectly.
Nowadays, our identities are much more fractured, based on so many ideas and interests that vary from those around us that the concept of normal as part of a cultural identity is faded, but it’s still there, and I think it still has some utility if it’s not used to harm or bully people. “Normal” is what let French and German soldiers have a truce on Cristmas Eve in WWI, and shake hands between the trenches- a common cultural concept that let them put human decency ahead of another exchange of artillery. Without the idea of very core similarities, it would be impossible to find ways to reconcile differences between nations, communities, or tribes. Heck, even within them!
Me, I know I’m not normal, but I’m okay with that. I know some of what I think and do would strike friends as strange, but I don’t let that bother me. You have the right idea in putting it aside, but don’t knock normal too much- even for those of us outside of it, it’s a useful social construct that lets us understand other people we meet and interact with, and can even act as a guide when we’re unsure of what to do
I so feel this. There is no normal, just YOUR kind of normal…as in, individually.
I agree with Mr. Brony that normalcy is a social construct built of the average behaviors of a society. But for people that don’t always fit into that social construct, normalcy is a fear tactic to beat us back in line. “The nail that stands out will be hammered down”, etc. In this respect, it’s important to abandon the importance of normal, such that you end needless self-censure.
I like your attitude, “Fuck normal!” though I must say that RandomBrony makes some good points. I am not even close to being normal and that’s OK with me….well, sometimes.
Oh, this is so, so true. I recently found out that one of the most “normal” people I know is actually struggling with depression and anxiety, too. I never would have known, if we hadn’t gotten so close. It was relieving, actually, because now I know there’s no such thing as “together.” Everybody’s got something.