I’ll Never Be Normal; Here’s Why I’m Learning to Not Care

The ability to claim normalcy probably disappeared the day I came into this world screaming my baby lungs out. I was number ten of an ever-growing family, with older siblings years my senior. It's a safe bet "normal" continued to elude me with my childhood mainly isolated as a homeschooled kid. There were rare encounters with other children my age with the few times I wandered to my small town's park to play with a handful of kids who were either getting their education at home, similar to me, or a few others who played hookie from the public school some miles away. The majority of interaction was due to my connections to my fundamentalist community though. Church was the center of my life; everything revolved around it. You can pretty much kiss "normal" goodbye when something that controlling is what your life mostly consists of.

Making things more difficult was the fact I knew how odd I appeared to others. I lost count of how many times I was asked by curious strangers whether or not I was Amish or Mennonite courtesy of my long skirts and dresses on an ordinary shopping trip to the grocery store with my parents. Or, with this long line of children marching into a department store, a store employee would ask if we were all really related while ringing up our purchases. There are countless stories to come to mind—most meet with trepidation or embarrassment, if I'm being honest—but the point is, if we're talking about aiming for normalcy, it's pretty possible my earliest years missed the mark.

For years, I have thought of myself as shy, if not timid. I have always struggled with social interactions for as long as I can remember. Speaking up when I needed to was that much harder—I didn't really know how. As a child, I was to be seen, but not heard. Becoming an adult female meant women were to be meek and quiet. You may see the pattern there that I'm guessing didn't help matters. Put it this way: if we meet in public and I'm genuinely smiling it could be that I'm happy to chat with you or that I'm inwardly congratulating myself from being polite and putting my best face forward. It's not always easy, I'm telling you, and it's congratulatory-worthy. I highly suspect this is more about conditioning than personality—I love to elebarote on topics I'm interested in and love hearing people's unique perspectives. It's the process leading up to that has always tripped me up.

"Fitting in" was always a challenge, even in a world where uniformity is a key aspect of keeping things the way they always were. Often, it felt that even in my own community I didn't belong. Among my peers I was caught between wanting to be accepted and wanting to stand out. When it came to the adults in our midst, it was either prove to be on their level or most often, learning quick to keep your head down. Jealousy was a constant in both groups where praise was continuously withheld. Finding a hidden talent could become obsessive for some, the one thing to help a person feel worthy. I can't help but feel that in an environment that preached "Christian love," the Christians within it rarely felt the emotion, let alone knew how to show others it. Fitting in, in my experience, was a way to obtain a little self worth.

If others could accept me that had to count for something, right?

Struggling to find acceptance I suppose was one "normal" attribute that accomponied my adolescent years. I've always considered myself pretty level headed if not proned to overreacting, which translated into very rarely taking chances. The few "dares" I did take were more about stupidity than anything and nothing to brag about, but I'll tell you those stories regardless if I'm game for it at the time.

Becoming a young adult would be met with laughs by most people if I ever told those stories. Yes, they'd be that boring. Being a late bloomer is part of my story and I try to use it to my advantage. I have a great appreciation for things others may take for granted because of it, so if you ever see me acting like a kid, don't bother me. I'm right where I want to be in that moment, lost in the wonder of it all.

Right before my exit out of Christian Fundamentalism, I no longer tried so hard to find my clique. At that point, my circle was very small (still is) and those final years in the IFB movement were very difficult. Upon leaving, being "normal" was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted and needed was to feel normal as I best knew normal to feel like as life and things and people's actions were beyond my control. Physically, emotionally and mentally my body crumbled. Ironically, I felt stuck in fundamentalism and continued to for awhile after leaving. I remember shutting down in a way, feeling depressed and without realizing it, began to grieve. I grieved everything: leaving my church and my past faith behind, losing contact with the majority of family and friends, no longer having an idea if I could belong in that world or the real one either. I even started to grieve afresh the passing of my mother as a child and the complicated years leading up to that challenging time. Suddenly, my entire childhood came under the microscope. Was I missing something, a key to unlock the great mystery of it? And what about the world, the people in it, and my place in the greater picture? What would I do with that? With my fundamentalist-free future? Damned, if I still don't know.

Childhood trauma only complicated things and I found I needed answers and I wasn't alone in this as my twin sister, in many ways, felt similar. I started learning and reading more, trying to gain different perspectives, making an effort at being open to mindsets and views I previously wouldn't have. I started writing more and putting down tough emotions into words and discovered a love for creating fiction that makes you feel new, real things and non-fiction that recounted old, real things. I had accepted pretty early on after leaving that what I knew as church and Christianity was more cult-like than anything, so when I stumbled upon survivors of the Independent Fundamental Baptist movement I was as ready as I ever was to learn about it. Talking, sharing, and realizing that a not-so-normal life makes it completely understandable to not feel normal was so, so important. Suddenly, things started making more sense and the puzzle pieces began to fit together. Without even realizing it I started to feel better and clear headed.

Call me the black sheep and my newfound response would be I'd rather just be referred to as human with a different opinion. State I'm an "odd duck" and now, I'm more prone to introspection that let's me know I'd prefer to be a bird that travels farther with my still strengthening wings. Eventually, I hope to fly far, and then, yet farther, and trust me when I say even that aspiration is beyond priceless.

What I'm getting at is this...there are always going to be challenges if you're one that has made the leap out of fundamentalism or any other cult. If I'm going to put all honesty on the table right now, on some days it scares me (add a colorful expletive here if it would help get this point across). The past few years have been tough. This year alone and since starting this blog, I faced things I didn't dare dream were possible. I'm still trying to learn healthy coping methods and responses for what life hurls at you to replace the negative ones I survived on. Some challenges I feel like I've pretty much overcome and look back and am left in awe that they not only occured, but yeah, I got through them. And some I'm staring down even now, trying my darndest to accomplish my goals of succeeding past whatever they bring. I have hope and that is a victory in and of itself.

I'm not normal. I'm never going to be. And although there are days I'd consider trading about anything to have that normalcy that some have, I try to keep in mind what I do have and the people who are in my corner. It was actually due to countless conversations with some of these people that led to this very post. When asked if doing X made them seem "normal" or saying X was less "weird," it left me really thinking.

To a degree, I think it's only human to find your tribe while searching for a self identity that fits. Humans have been doing that forever and feeling lonely is no fun. Community is a vital part of the human experience, after all. But we as humans put a lot of stock in two words: normal and weird. And what I'm continuing to learn is both words mean different things to different people, much like the word "great" holds conflicting opinions depending on what and where it is applied. Take it from a former fundamentalist—taking things so literal is probably part of the problem. That, and it's a matter of interpretation. And how often is that the case?

"Normal" has to stand for healthy, thriving, and embracing the here-and-now if it's going to be a goal I find myself aiming for. There are days that my upbringing and the years dedicated to one movement and all it consisted of still get me down and I ask a lot of whys because of that. At present though, I'm just smiling. There's such a long ways to go, but these steps, tiny and big alike, are leading me on the path that's best for me. Here's to the ride, everyone.


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