My Obsession with "Normal"...

In the past, I used to say that "normal" didn't exist. That it was some made-up concept people created as a comfort blanket - to make themselves feel better - and as something to strive to become. It was my way of saying I didn't care what other people people thought of me. I would be myself because I liked being different - abnormal - weird. That was then. 1996. High school.

Somehow, I've lost that sentiment. I still describe myself as out-of-the-ordinary, peculiar, strange, but it's an empty description. I don't feel I live up to what these words mean. I have instead become obsessed with what it means to be "normal." I watch other people to try and figure out how to be more like what seems to make them normal.

I told my mom once, maybe a year or two ago, that I was beginning to accept the fact that I'm just an average person. That there's nothing extraordinary about me. And, while she expressed concern about this, I told myself this was a lesson in getting older - that accepting this was synonymous with giving up the childhood dream of becoming famous. I have since discovered how wrong I am. Being above-average, extraordinary, abnormal, and unique doesn't mean you're rich and famous (in the TV-personality, tabloid faces sense with too much money). I am extraordinary simply because I'm me. I am unique because I'm me. I am far from average because I'm me.

How do I know this, though? What told me that I'm not average?
- Friends. Rediscovering old friendships that meant so much to me. Creating new friendships that fill out my life and give me new people in my immediate world to care about.
- A fresh look at life. Feeling successful at my new job. Relieving the stress that has existed in my life. Moving and settling into a new life in Boston.
- Counseling. And reflection. Talking through more layers of "me." Rediscovering happiness over and over again as I learn to live with depression.

So. I don't feel average anymore. I've unaccepted my perceived "averageness" I guess you could say. But that has not wiped out my obsession with what's "normal."

My obsession with normalcy stems from my view of my depression as DIFFERENT. ABNORMAL. Both in the bad sense of the words. I want to desperately to not have depression, to not have to live with its effects, that I have been trying to figure out what makes people who don't have depression "normal" and try to emulate that in hopes that will drive out my depression.

We all see how fruitless this endeavor is, don't we? The people I observe and try to emulate - how do I know 1) what makes them "normal" and 2) if they always act that way and it works well for them, and 3) that they don't also have depression or some other mental disorder?

As I write this out, it all just seems so silly. So obvious how mixed up I have made everything in my mind. And yet - these are all real feelings from RIGHT NOW.


12.5.05
To be normal...

Normal means being able to deal with the everyday responsibilities in life. Paying bills on time. Buying groceries. Setting appointments to take care of myself. Going to work each day. Calling the electrician, the plumber. Making and keeping friends. Handling stress.