Estimated read time: 5 min
Those of us living with addiction or mental health challenges are often stigmatized, judged harshly, and criticized for the actions of our past, choices we’ve made, or lifestyles we chose. We can easily be misunderstood, misjudged, or not taken as seriously as our non-challenged peers. We catch the side-eyes, the sneers, whispers, and looks of fear or uneasiness when our “secret” is found out by co-workers, friends, or distant relatives. Many of us may feel as though, in comparison, we’re not normal.
We’re told by our doctors, therapists, 12-step groups, and clergy members that we are “different,” “deviant,” “neuro-divergent,” “atypical,” and “abnormal.” The list goes on and on. Are these terms, harsh? Perhaps. Are they rude? Sometimes. Is it comfortable? Not usually. Most importantly, though, is it true? Are we, people in recovery, people living with addiction and mental health challenges, abnormal? Well, the answer to that question really just depends on how you look at it, right?
I could review medical journals, scientific literature, religious texts, and so on and so forth. I could explain how the most current edition of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous suggests that we are “bodily and mentally different from our fellows” (p. 30), or how the first book of Peter in the New Testament tells us to “Be alert and of sober mind” (5:8), or even recite from Webster’s dictionary that normal is defined as “conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern,” but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not bore you.
In active addiction, prior to seeking help through various avenues, I struggled with the concept that I was different from “everyone else.” At times, this notion brought me peace of mind and comfort as it helped me to understand different parts of myself and events that had happened in my past. Other times, the idea of being different was disturbing and bothersome, as if I was less than or inferior to people who didn’t have the same struggles as I did. From my observations and interactions with people in recovery, this is a pretty common point of discomfort.
Some of us get stuck in the “Why did this happen to me?” rut, or on the “What did I do to deserve this?” merry-go-round into oblivion, but at the end of the day, that’s probably not really the question we’re trying to find the answer to, is it? In fact, if you’re anything like me, the question you really want the answer to, is probably, “Why can’t I be normal?”
Circling all the way back to all the times and ways we’re told we’re not: we can’t drink like normal people ( Stan shares his interesting take on this in his post What Earth People Say Might Kill You), we don’t act like normal people, we don’t think like normal people, so forth and so on till they’re blue in the face. We get it. They think we’re not normal! My question then is, what is normal?
Not to discredit or invalidate the importance of the medical and scientific communities, but I don’t want the dictionary definition, the scientific analysis, or psychological explanation. I want layman’s terms. Relatable illustrations, and day-to-day examples of what normal is because to be quite honest, I like to keep things simple.
Whether you are here for experience strength and hope, or you just accidentally happened across this post, if you want to find out if you are indeed normal, consider asking yourself the following questions: (1) Am I a dishwasher? (2) Am I a washing machine or dryer? (3) Am I a clothes iron?
Notice, the question was not whether you are a person who performs these tasks, but whether or not you are the designated piece of equipment or machinery designed for these tasks. Considering that at this point in time humanoid robots have not yet flooded home markets, I’m going to go ahead and enter dangerous territory here, by assuming that no, you are not a piece of machinery. You are in fact not a dishwasher, washing machine, iron, or clothes dryer.
Where am I going with all this? What do any of these things have to do with recovery, stigma, or anything else for that matter? Here’s where I am going. If you are not a home appliance, you’re not normal. Plain and simple, normal is a setting on the washing machine. Normal is simple, normal is insignificant, and normal is negligible. No one is normal; normal doesn’t exist.
Chasing after normalcy has been one of the greatest frustrations and wastes of time I have ever put myself through. Am I different from the other 8 billion people on the planet? Yes, I am. Do I have qualities and characteristics that are unique to me and me alone? Yes, and I hope everyone else does, too. Am I a home appliance that can be set to “normal?’ Damn straight I’m not, and I wouldn’t ever want to be!
Did this post speak to you in any way? Have you ever been stigmatized or openly ridiculed because of your addiction and mental health diagnosis? If so, how did you come to terms with it? Share your experience strength and hope of living in the solution in the comments below!
