normality

About a year ago, I made the personal decision that I had to become a well adjusted person in society. After years of mental illness and everlasting spirals, it took a humiliating experience with a man and a new SZA album for me to decide that enough was enough, and I had to at least TRY to be better.

Since that fateful day last December, I’ve taken an almost ridiculous approach to becoming what I perceive as “normal.” I’ve transferred to a big state school in New England. I have a new shower routine. I think of boys differently. I’ve deleted and redownloaded Snapchat dozens of times. I’ve stopped talking to people that gave me constant anxiety, and I started talking to old friends again. I’ve gotten more comfortable with unfollowing people. I’ve made the active choice of only listening to positive, affirming songs when I’m sad. And despite doing all this, and becoming infinitely happier, I still don’t feel “normal.”

I’ve noticed that I’m the most emotionally stable I’ve been in my entire life. However, I struggle socially even more. I often feel like an imposter, wondering what exactly I’m doing with myself. If you told me even a year and a half ago that I would eventually be a journalism major at a big state school writing a blog, I would’ve thought you were a dirty twisted liar trying to fill my head with seeds of doubt. And even now, as I live that reality, I can’t help but feel like it’s actually all an elaborate bit. Or like, maladaptive daydreaming. 

I think I have to find a personal definition of “normal.” I’ve based my current definition off what the Tik Tok influencers are doing, and I’m realizing that I literally cannot fit into that definition of “normal.” Even now, as I live this life that I’ve tried so hard to master and curate for myself, I feel bored, unfulfill, lame. I have this longing to get silly again, to feed into my quirks, to dress a little odd and speak even weirder. 

This is not me saying I’m unhappy. I relish this feeling of stability. I’m able to feel the simple joy of taking a walk and feeling the cold air on my face. I take great pleasure in getting dressed into actual outfits everyday and not just throwing on whatever clean pair of sweats I can find. I’m finally able to spend a night in my bed without getting FOMO. I enjoy eating again.

That being said, normality has NOT settled down over me. It fits like a pair of jeans that I can’t bend over in, like shoes I can only wear with thick socks. But then that raises the question: what is normality? I feel like the girl described in SZA’s “Normal Girl,” but I also feel like Florence + The Machine’s “Girls Against God” (great song btw) was written specifically for me. Does being “normal” just mean being happy? Being sane? 

I think in this endless hunt for “normality,” I’ve lost sense of what it truly means to be human. Why did I spend a year trying to categorize myself into a box I didn’t even fully understand?

I go back to NYC next Wednesday, and then I leave for a flight to Trinidad, the land of my birth, on Thursday. I think I’m gonna take some time over winter break to get back to what makes me, me. I want to get a little raw again, a little strange, while still practicing the tools of emotional regulation I’ve gained over this past year. I wanna get back to being who I really am at my core, without fear of judgment and delusional rules of self control I’ve made for myself.