Normal is a word I previously used to describe other people. Basically that definition included being part of a well adjusted two parent family of one race, living in a nice house owning nice things, and traveling on real vacations. I spent most of my life trying to fit in to this mold and expecting one day to make the right choices that would take me there. Only it never happened. Years went by and I saw the world for what it is, people, cultures, traditions, ideas, love, tragedy, experiences, and most important diversity.
Growing up in a “unconventional” family should have made it obvious to me that normal is just a word someone made up. Yet I still craved this ideal life that many of my friends seemed to have and that were prevalent in every movie and TV show I consumed. And I consumed a LOT of media. In my late twenties I realized that this media I was supporting constantly made families like mine into a joke. We were the anomaly in a world where everyone else was the same. Or worse we were uneducated, uncultured examples. However in real life my family was anything but. Yes we lived on a tight budget(I still do thanks to my poor financial choices), but my mom was a college graduate who took us to museums and on camping trips. We traveled a lot and were exposed to many different cultures and ideas. We were encouraged to think for ourselves. Sadly I was so invested in what I saw in others and in fantasy that I couldn’t grasp how awesome my life was and is because we did not grow up “normal”. That’s not to say that my previous idea of normal is lacking, it’s just different. The more I open my mind and listen to the world the more I see that nobody is normal. This is because humans are complex individuals with unique DNA who relate to life based on our personal experiences, meaning we are all different to somebody.
Whether it was trying to fit in at school, deciding which side of my racial/cultural identities to be, or the right career path, I spent a lifetime wanting to be someone other than me. Life was awful, I bailed on my beliefs, aspirations, and truest passions. I used to think it would be easier to be “normal” until I realized it took more work to fit to an unsustainable mold than to just accept myself. I wasn’t happy. At the age of 32 I started being me. Now I am happy. Now I know that normal is just a word I cannot even define. Hopefully I have as many or more years ahead of me to enjoy this freedom from normal
The following link is a blog post at Trascending Borders Blog that inspired todays post. Show a little love and visit their blog: http://transcendingbordersblog.wordpress.com/2013/06/14/be-you-an-original-which-you-already-are
How do you feel about the word normal?
What does normal mean to you?