We all, to some extent, in some areas of our lives, want to fit in.
To be like everyone else.
To fit the mold.
By nature, we generally tend to have a negative association with anything that is “different”. What is new and different, is not understood and we all want to be understood and accepted.
To be normal is to be understood. And that’s a good thing.
The question is: “Who defines what is normal?”
Or better still, “Who should define what is normal?”
We are all unique and created to be different from everyone else on the planet. Why is it so hard for us to celebrate our differences? Instead, we get caught up in comparing ourselves to one another, measuring all the ways in which we are not like our neighbors and then spending all our resources to be more like everyone else.
I want to be normal just as much as the next person.
Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash
But as much as I’d like to be, I’m not.
I don’t have the option of pretending I have my act together and am completely self-sufficient. It is hard to hide for very long, the ways in which I am different from most everyone else.
But maybe it’s a gift I can’t pretend to be normal?
It forces me to be authentic, honest and real about my needs, limitations, and shortcomings. It’s also taught me to ask for help when I need it and to pace myself rather than go a million miles an hour like so many others around me do.
I recently realized this desire to be normal (or in my case, the consistent failure to be so), was at the root of a period in my life when I was constantly disappointed, frustrated, irritated, discouraged…
I guess that’s what I get for trying to be something I’m not, for measuring myself by someone else’s standards.
Here’s what led to this recent conclusion:
About a month ago, some friends were asking me questions about my Narcolepsy. At one point in the conversation, I remember hearing myself tell them something I’ve said lots of times before.
But this time, one word in particular caught my attention. I said:
“The 3-4 years following my diagnosis were full of frustation.”
“…following…”
Why was I not also frustrated before my diagnosis?
I remember being increasingly confused in the last few years prior to being diagnosed. Starting in my early high school years, I had begun to realize something wasn’t right.
I remember feeling like everyone else around me had this magical ability to keep themselves awake even when they were really tired. It seemed like if that skill had been taught at school, perhaps in health class or maybe P.E., I must have been sick that day. I had no idea how everyone else did it. How could they stay up all night working on a paper or studying for a mid-term and the next day, they were still able to keep themselves awake even through the most boring and monotonous lectures?
I, on the other hand, would sleep 8-9 hours at night, sleep through my alarm for a good 30 minutes in the morning and then be drowsy and/or dosing off in almost all of my classes.
I wouldn’t, however, characterize the years before I was diagnosed as “frustrating”, but the years immediately following most certainly were.
Every time I missed out on a fun activity with friends because I was too tired or had unexpectedly fallen asleep, or when I fell asleep during a class (and even during exams!) or missed an appointment or meeting because I slept through my alarms, my immediate response was to be gripped with frustration and disappointment.
So why did I become frustrated only after I was diagnosed…?
I think it’s because being diagnosed with Narcolepsy showed me that other people have a different normal than me.
I think it’s easy to assume our experiences are “normal” until that is, we are shown a different definition of what normal is. I assumed my life was relatively normal but when I was diagnosed, I learned everyone around me had something I didn’t.
Have you noticed how Envy, Bitterness, and Frustration all seem to be good friends? Where one is, the others tend to be as well. I was envious of what others had and that envy brought with it bitterness and frustration.
Once I was diagnosed, instead of comparing my experiences only with myself and what was normal for me, I began looking at what others had that I didn’t: everyone else around me had more energy, the ability to not have to take naps every day, the ability to read and study for long periods of time (while sitting down no less!), the ability to stay awake in class and in church and in the car… the ability to drive long distances without having to map out where they could pull over to take a nap if needed…
It was jealousy and playing the comparison game that made me discontent and frustrated.
When I learned to let go and embrace the fact that I would never be like everyone around me, things got a lot better. I think the other factor that had the most impact on my change of attitude and heart was the realization that God is both good and sovereign. If I have an appointment I am supposed to be at, no amount of tiredness or forgetting to set my alarms or accidental naps or anything else will keep me from being where I am suppose to be, and being awake when I need to be.
This thought gives me so much peace of mind.
God gives me the grace and energy, day by day, to do all that He wants me to do.
All that I can’t get done or don’t have the energy for, can wait for another day. As the saying goes:
“Do your best and forget the rest.”
Today, I am just focusing on what’s normal for me and trying to only compare myself with the best version of who I know I can be. My days are a lot less frustrating when I focus on celebrating the things I can do and don’t worry about the things I can’t control.
And you?
Who’s standard of normal have you been using?
Here’s to us all trying a little bit harder to be who we were made to be while spending less time measuring ourselves by someone else’s standard.
Be you.
No one will ever be so good at being you as you are.
And who you are is pretty neat.
Faithfulstill 