I can’t sleep so I’m writing this. A ramble seems likely.
Normal.
Normal is an interesting word. It’s almost becoming frowned upon. No longer is it correct to say that someone isn’t normal. I mean lots of us still use it casually but it’s definitely becoming more taboo. “I mean, that’s not normal is it?” said in hushed, questioning tones. I get told off by Nora (my nurse – remember?) all the time for saying I’m not normal. She reassures me that I am normal and am just someone who is struggling a bit at the minute. Hmmm. That kinda sounds like crap to me and because I’m an awkward arse I challenge her on it:
“Well actually ok if you don’t like the word normal then can we accept that, if we surveyed the population, people like me would be in the minority? Otherwise everyone would spend time at the mental hospital and evidence shows that is not the case. Let’s imagine a bell shaped curve with most people under the bell bit. I am not like them. I am different to the majority. Let’s call that behaviour that is socially accepted normal. That’s not me therefore I am not normal.”
I feel quite guilty typing that. I really am a difficult sod aren’t I? Ah don’t worry about it. Nora is made of tough stuff she can handle me!
I’ve been having some trouble with night time hallucinations. Scares the bejeezus out of me. She told me it was normal. My face resembled angry meme guy.
Hallucinating? Not Normal! YARGH!
It doesn’t feel very fucking normal. So next time it happened I wrote an email at the time. (Yes, I’m shaking my own head. Who does that?!). Here’s an excerpt of the email
“It’s dark and too warm. I’m calm. I’m a little scared. I worry that something/someone will come for me. I’d call it god but it’s not God – I don’t believe in that. Same idea though. They’re going to come and lead me away to where I should be. I shouldn’t be here. That’s what the night time hallucinations/dreams are about I think: I’m supposed to lead myself away but where? The teenage self wants me to go with her, be with her somewhere and be one person again. She doesn’t like being cast out like this. If they come for me I won’t go because they’re not real. None of this is real. That’s why it only happens at night – the chemistry has got to be just right in the brain to see these things. If they come I mustn’t go. I wouldn’t. “
Apparently this is normal.
I disagree that this is normal.
I agree that it is normal for someone with PTSD (which in fairness was Nora’s point but I was being purposefully obtuse). But that thing that I wrote above – that belief – doesn’t fit in the bell bit of the curve. Normal for PTSD is different to regular normal. I’m trying to get my head around these adjectives: normal, struggling, real, ill, damaged, dangerous, unsafe, complicated. My understanding of these words is a bit off. The context has changed.
Fuck it. Who wants to be normal anyway?
I’ll be unique. Just like everyone else.
Through the Amygdala 