Dear “Normal” People

When you look at me, what is it you see? My hair? My face? My body shape? Or do you see my smile? The light that can fill, or leave my eyes? Do you see how well I’m dressed? Or how well I keep myself? Or is it my scars you see? The dark circles under my eyes? My slumped shoulders? Do you see my depression? The thoughts that haunt my waking hours and the dreams that leave me breathless? Do you see how hard I am fighting myself to stay alive? Do you really see me? Or are you seeing the misconceived idea that because I have a mental illness, I am different, scary or possibly even dangerous.

But honestly, I can’t say that I blame you. Since a young age we have had it drilled into us to be “normal”. But what is this “normal” we all so desperately want to achieve? What about working a 9-5 job? But that would rule out all shift workers, including nurses, doctors, police etc. Is “normal” owning a home and having a family? These days with the price of everything rising, buying a house isn’t something everyone can do, a lot of people rent. Having a family isn’t possible for everyone, but that doesn’t mean that they are not normal. You could look at it from a statistical point of view, meaning that you find the average out of every human to find a norm. But within every average there are an infinite amount of variables. You may fit the average over all but there may be just one place that is different.

So,  I guess the question I am asking turns into, “Is there such thing as normal?” I would hazard a guess that there is not. When we look at normal we have to take into account many different factors, such as ethnicity, family values, beliefs, religion, laws and regulations and country of origin,  just to name a few. But all of these factors will affect a person’s perception of normal. Normal in itself varies from group to group.

We could debate the mechanics of what is and isn’t normal until we are blue in the face, the matter still stands that those of us who perceive the world differently are considered “abnormal”.  Those of us who struggle to regulate and even understand our emotions are not normal. Those who see or hear things differently aren’t normal. Those who cannot see a future for themselves are not normal. But just because something is different, doesn’t mean that it should be feared or locked away. As a society, I believe that we are too quick to judge. Too quick to put everyone into their own little box so that they fit neatly into a system that is so clearly broken. I personally don’t wanted to be boxed up and shoved into a pigeon hole. I am not just a label given to me by someone who has met me twice. I am more than that.

My diagnosis of Borderline Personality, Major Depression and General Anxiety are just labels. They do not and will never define who I am. They make up a part of who I am, but only a slither. The rest of me could be just like any one of you reading this right now. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, an aunt. I am a writer, a quilter, a singer, a dancer. I am a Facebooker, a Blogger, Youtuber. I am a bookworm, a Whovian, a Potterhead.  I am tattooed, scared and imperfect. Some days I don’t particularly like who I am, but my experiences make up who I have become, and I wouldn’t change them for the world.

There is a saying, “… if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid” (Albert Einstein). This to me is saying that everyone is different, perhaps their measurable quality isn’t the same as the next persons, but that doesn’t make them less or more capable. Just differently able. If we stop trying to measure everyone the same way, we might have a more realistic view of normal.

Mental illness, like any other illness can be debilitating. It just effects a different organ, the brain. But if you see someone who is in a wheel chair, would you go out of your way to make sure they made it through life easier because you could see that they needed help?  There are times when someone with a mental illness needs just as much help but it is not always readily give. This is, I believe, because it cannot be seen. It isn’t like I wear a neon sign on my forehead indicating that I have a mental illness. But at the same time, I will be honest with anyone who takes the time of day to ask or get to know me. I am not afraid to tell anyone that I do have a mental illness. So, perhaps we need to work on not only the stigma, but on awareness. I believe by addressing one, you will by default, address the other.

So, I may not be normal in the measureable sense, or even in the broad sense. But I also don’t want to be. I don’t want to fit neatly into a box. I can tell you right now that I will spill over all the edges and just make a mess. But even if I am not normal, I am still human. And I would take that over normality any day.