Normal Undefined

Normal. We have all heard and used that word before, haven’t we? But what, exactly, is normal? It is a term defined by what is common in society. In the rawest form, it means conforming to the usual. In case, you are missing the point, normal has no definition outside of conforming to the wishes of society. Technically, normal is undefined.

If normal is undefined, how then do we measure what is abnormal? Given the dictionary definition of normal, it’s safe to say that abnormality stems from the non conformation to the common beliefs and actions of a society. Huh, guess that means that technically, abnormal is also undefined.

Based on the definitions - or lack thereof - how can someone deem themselves capable of deciding who and what is normal? People oftentimes take what they deem as abnormal and claim that it is wrong. They fear that which is not common and chastise it, bullying people into the ground because of it. Whether it is religious beliefs, political standpoints, gender, race, ethnicity, or sexuality (to name only a few), everyone feels that their belief is “normal” and true. Here’s the reality: your belief is your belief and congratulations for having it, but it’s not the only truth out there. Your belief stems from your moral code, which is actually affected by the society and environment surrounding you. From a psychological standpoint, morals change through personal development. If they change and do not remain stagnant, then it’s pretty tough to say that your way is the best and only way, isn’t it?

I’m rambling, I get that, but I get so frustrated when I’m told that I or something I’m doing is considered abnormal. Whether it comes down to the woman I love, our future marriage (yup, I said the M word), my chosen career goals, or the fact that I don’t fit into any typical stereotype, people always judge. I can’t stop the judgment, but I am tired of a society that feels it is okay to berate people because they don’t fit into a neat little box. I think outside the box. In fact, I think so outside the box that the box actually ceases to exist.

We grow up in a world where “normal” is deemed right, when in actuality it just means that you are giving into the whim of a society. Break that down and you get something that is common...the usual...lacking originality. I’m proud to be original. I’m proud to walk my own path. Who I am, what I believe in, and what I stand for is my truth. My truth is mine, your truth is yours. Harmony comes when we all live our own truths and quit shoving them into the mouths of others.

Just my thoughts.

I'm a butthole yet people love me anyways

I am capable of being a total and complete butthole at times. That’s putting it nicely, for the sake of you readers out there, but I can assure you that I can be the epitome of every a**hole definition you can come up with. It’s both a gift and a curse. There have been times it has served me well, but mostly not so much.

I am also a professional instigator...to myself. Seriously. I can totally egg myself on. It’s like my conscience, or superego, steps outside of my body to watch my id and ego battle it out.

Superego: “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”
Id: “Say it. You feel it so say it.”
Superego: “If you say it, it will piss her off and the argument will get heated.”
Id: “Do it. Do it. Do it. I dare you.”

Then there’s my ego who is trying to weigh out the pros and cons before opening my mouth. Sounds rational, right? Here’s the thing - when I’m tired, my id wins...always. My Id sets the dare into motion and if I don’t comply right away, a double dog dare is sure to follow at which point my mouth opens and out spews whatever idiotic thing it may be. That’s when my superego just shakes her head and smacks her forehead while muttering “I told you so.” You would almost think, I’d pay my superego a bit more heed since more often than not, she’s right, but no. Sometimes, I prefer the more challenging road filled with chaos, idiocy, and facepalms. What can I say, I’m an adventurer. Ha, yeah...let’s go with that.

Trying to Impress?

I was talking to my mom awhile back and she said something that marinated in my head until it finally had to be written. She said she doesn't understand why we (my bro and I) feel we have to try and impress my father. I was taken aback and replied that I don't ever think about impressing him, which is true. However, it did set in motion a thought process I can't seem to let go of.

On some low level of my subconscious, do I do that? I bust my ass to do all I can to improve myself on many levels...aside from normal internal motivation, is there something else? Do I somehow strive to prove that I can be something more to a man who can't even remember what I'm going to grad school for? This made me think and really analyze myself in the sub-silence of my brain.

Sure, we all have external motivations that feed our need to do better and I can acknowledge mine on only a few fingers. As a kid, I used to definitely go for his praise and I did all I could think of to try to impress the man who was my hero. During softball games, I’d make sure no ball got past me. When hunting or fishing, I made sure my knowledge and skill was better than any of my male relatives. I sought out the proud smile that made me feel so good about myself. Then I grew up.

We had our share of issues, some of which we can’t seem to get passed - many of which long ago knocked him off the “hero” pedestal he owned when I was a kid. YET...reflecting back on the times when I played softball as an adult just a few short years ago before I injured my knee...I recall still holding onto the hope that he would make an appearance at my games and would play just a tad harder. Same is true the one time he took me on a deep sea fishing trip - I would fight those fish with rubber arms just to hear him tell the deck hands that his daughter didn’t need help. Maybe I must admit that in certain elements with hobbies specific to those we shared, he does provide a motivational force. Now I must also admit that I hate it. I hate the idea that parts of my adult life have been spent unconsciously attempting to impress a man who cannot accept my lifestyle, my choices, or anything thing else that makes me who I am today. I absolutely completely despise the idea.

It sounds as if he’s a bad man...he’s not. He has just spent too many years as a toxic seat at my table. There are things I fear I have in common with him - not good things - and I vowed as a teenager to never let those things fester and show. Today, he is a man who stands on the outskirts of my life...never really an active member.

Do I ever feel that I can be good enough for him? No. No I guess I don't. I don't ever foresee pride shining from his eyes again. I don't ever believe I'll hear encouragement from his lips. I don’t kid myself into believing those are even remote possibilities and I sure as hell don’t strive forward in an attempt to make it happen.

As I reflect over these last few years, I can say that I never consciously strive for his approval nor do I ever set out to impress him. Do I secretly hold a tiny little whisper of hope that my achievements will be recognized by him? Even though I hate to admit it, I do. Will my world be torn if it doesn’t happen? No. Do I honestly care enough about it to change it? Nope...I don’t.