My 7-year old self just wants to be normal and she won’t leave my 37-year old self alone about it.
I am repeatedly tortured by the idea that the thoughts and feelings that run through my head are not normal. That word normal is such a trigger for me. Rationally, I would tell you that I would rather be seen as “not normal”. But my heart betrays my rational mind when I am flooded with the sweet relief of validation after someone utters my two favorite words “me too”.
Me too means “I’m not the only one” therefore, I argue, I must be normal. But why do I obsess on normalcy? Not being “normal” is such a childish worry. Normal is not even a word my introspective adult self values. Therapy and research tell me that most of the reason why we say and do the things we do is because of programming, conditioning and trauma that occurred from ages 0-7. Ah-Ha! My 7-year old self just wants to be normal and she won’t leave my 37 year old self alone about it.
My awakened adult plan to overcome this insatiable desire to feel normal is part active and part passive. Firstly, give me all the therapy. I love the idea of therapy healing all my wounds. That feels easier to me. I have always valued finding experts in a certain field and then leaning on them to answer my simplest questions and solve my life problems. Last week I spent 20 mins at a friend’s house trying to remember the name of a book. I couldn’t remember the whole plot line and was certain of just one detail, the setting on Kiawah Island, SC. I kept using Kiawah island as the key word in my google search. When the book title wasn’t appearing on The Google I realized I hadn’t done my favorite thing. While I was sitting on my friend’s garden patio in Ohio, I called my local Kansas City public library branch to repeat the process with a live human book expert. Turns out I had remembered that one key detail wrong. It was Edisto Island, SC and the book was Before We Were Yours. Librarians like therapists can solve most of my life’s problems.
I have been to therapy on two separate occasions with great success. Currently, I am rounding the corner on my way to third with great hopes of discovering why I am so disturbed by my marriage not feeling normal.
The other half of my coping mechanism is to blatantly do things that are at odds with normalcy and then brace for the expected and calculated fallout. I dip my toe in the “not normal” waters and let everyone watch the ripples but they are on my terms and feel like more like an “I-gotcha moment” than one where I am laid bare. I can name a few things that I have done in recent past. As you can see, I have a bold haircut which was the very first thing I ever did to honor my desperate hidden not normal self. It has been and continues to be, ironically, the most empowering thing I have ever done. Without uttering a word my haircut walks into a room and conveys to people that I don’t give a shit what they think, thereby making my attempt at flagrant abnormality a sign of great strength not oddity. Normal.
About a month ago I stopped shaving my arm pits which is a slower reveal process as my hairy armpits don’t usually lead me into a room. I recently took the bull by the horns and told my parents I stopped shaving my arm pits. It felt necessary as my kids (who see my parents frequently) often make up sing-songy diddities about “Mommy’s hairy arm pits”. With fear and shame coursing through my veins I raised my arms to expose the soft dark fur underneath. My mom tried to hide a look of horror and confusion and my dad flat out told me I was disgusting. Bam, sheesh, calculated ripples… I lowered my arms, and that was the worst of it. Time passed, the conversation moved on to dessert, bath time and the kids. Now they know more of me and I can raise my tank top arms again at their house. Normal.
I have done one other thing too. I came out. This maybe sounds more solid than it feels. I came out to my closest best most supportive friends who love me unconditionally, I came out to my husband, my kids as much as they can understand, my sister and anyone who happens to find this obscure blog. Therapy has revealed to me that this is the exact “not normal” thing that my 7-year old self feared the most. Coming out in this way with these people feels like step one. I dually breathe out a huge sigh of relief and gasp in a breath of panic. I can tell it is my test of the waters, watching the ripples along with everyone else, bracing. I have received support and love from everyone who knows, but my insides are still on fire with my “not normal”. I have a huge craving to find others like me, someone in a committed monogamous relationship with a man but knows that there is another unexplored side of them that could be with a woman. What do I do with that for the next 40-50 years? How will this all shake out? My ears perk up and my heart races every time I hear anything that feels aligned with my truth. I am waiting to hear my first “me too” so that I can be Normal.