Normal

I’m not “normal.” That’s what most people say anyway. I kind of prefer it that way as most of them just leave me alone to do what I want. I have no one to try and impress everyday to just feel validated or feel included. I can run around in a cape pretending to fight off giant spiders, who are trying to eat the phones of students, and although they watch, they are all too scared to jump up and join me in fear of being deserted by their friends and everyone else.

I’m pretty happy with this as it shows me who is really ready to put time into figuring someone out. Most people assume that I’m crazy, fighting off air that I call a spider as I tell them to duck, but in reality I’m not. I just have a strong imagination. I don’t see things like hallucinations, but I like to be in my own world that is ten times more interesting than a boring old high school where teachers constantly tell you to get along with each other and pay attention, the teenagers who throw away their futures for relationships that tend to not last longer than a year or do drugs because they think it makes them cool and don’t think they will get addicted because they have “self-control”. My world is filled with the “crazy” and whatever makes the stories I create in my head more interesting. Nothing in my world is expected to be normal and no one is treated weird for chasing after whatever they think is right for them.

I have a few friends, but they want to hang out more than I prefer to. Don’t get me wrong, they actually spent the time to try and figure me out and listen to me but they want to get closer than I really care for. I like drawing and writing about my own world the whole day, even though it is mainly stick fingers, but sometimes it’s nice to see my friends and make sure that the world is treating them well. They don’t all get what’s up with me, but they understand that people shouldn’t be treated like they are lesser for not being what others perceive as “normal”.

I know I was talking about running around in a cape, but that isn’t what I normally do. I do a much more laid back version of that to prove that people are scared of the unknown. What I normally do is just act like myself. I know, it sounds crazy but it’s not. I don’t often know how to react, so I guess my indifferent reaction or weird way of responding throws people off, and instead of asking why, they just shrug it off and ignore me for the most part. They understand social norms and don’t like me for not fitting into their skewed version of “normal”.

I used to constantly trying to feel accepted or copy what everyone else did. I would dress the way that they did and pretend to be interested in the things that they were. I was the clingy “girlfriend” to everyone, pretending to suddenly know about all of their interests all of my life and denying the fact that I just found out what basketball was or what happy really feels like. It worked sometimes, and people would treat me like I belonged, and I was cool, but eventually they would see the cracks in my wall and begin to treat me differently again. It was my shield a long time ago from showing myself to others. Now as a teen, I’m often more upset than the common teenagers but they think I’m just sad that I’m not friends with everyone but it’s much more complicated. I don’t feel what others do so I am constantly thinking and trying to change my tactics to get them to understand me, but there is never one set way to get people to understand what I mean. It’s a never ending race to try and understand what people expect and solving the mystery of what to do for the times to come. It’s also rather sick because I don’t really want to be any of their friends anyway, but I just don’t want to be asked all the time “What’s wrong with you?” or “Why don’t you go get some friends?” or just be watched because they don’t get me. Family members also think I’m crazy and tell me to act more alive, more interactive, and more “normal”. Even now as I care a lot less about making ties with people they still try and have everyone under the impression that I’m a normal teenager.

My parents sometimes seem tired of it too. They fight over what they should do with me when they think I’m asleep and can’t hear them. In their hushed tones they argue whether I should be sent away for help, get therapy, or just live my life the way my brain decides to go.

“Schizoid is really hard to have and fit in. People think she is weird and treat her like she isn’t smart enough to have a normal relationship. Maybe it’s for the best to have her learn to be normal. If not normal, at least where she knows how to be successful”

“But this is her normal, treating it as if it is something to fear or something to fix isn’t good for her. The doctors aren’t even sure if it was Schizoid or something else before we couldn’t afford to send her anymore before. She seems content being herself and taking on the world the way that seems right to her at the time. She has made friends who understand. Eventually she’ll grow out of it and get better.”

Their arguments are sometimes calm, more like discussions, while other times they slam doors on each other and blame each other for what’s wrong with me. They try and hide it from me, but I know it’s hard on them, but I don’t know what to do other than play along and pretend everything broken is completely normal. It’s easier than trying to explain that I’m fine, and they should just be happy because they never believe me and start getting sneakier with talking about me around me.

Having others try and fix your life for you can be annoying. It’s like being a cat and your owner is deciding where it’s okay to go and not go when all you want is to find the highest perch to reside and take naps in the sun. Sometimes the cat decides to listen, but he eventually tries to adventure into what he isn’t supposed to because they just want to be a cat. But then the cat could be adopted by someone else who has a completely different set of ideas about how the cat should be.

My dad doesn’t want me to get help. He’s the type to never ask for help unless he is absolutely forced to. He thinks I’ll get over it someday, and I’ll magically know how to be a normal daughter with the goals and dreams of typical people while fitting in with everyone else in the world. He tries to act like I’m perfectly normal and expects me to live up to that expectation. My mom, however, thinks it’s best to get help. She wants me to be happy and get along with people even with this disorder and she thinks that getting help will let me know how to fit in better. She thinks that seeing someone, being medicated, or a combination would help me. She treats me like I’m normal but I just needs some help to be understood by the rest of the world.

I think that they are both rather silly, but they are both trying to do what they think is good for me. I guess I’m in the middle of working things out myself, like my dad wants, but also getting help from guidance counsellors when I’m struggling, like my mom wants. The thing that I don’t share in common with them is the idea of fixing me and fitting in. I don’t really like being close with people or saying much about me in “normal” circumstances, so I don’t really see a point in fitting in. Being different has shown me the weird ways that people lie or pretend to be more energetic or whatever the case may be just to feel welcomed. They aren’t even as weird as I am, yet they are scared of not being seen as “normal.” I have seen first hand what it’s like to be looked at for being who I am and being avoided because people don’t understand, and I also have been one of the people fighting to fit in and throwing myself to the side to be a copy of them.

My parents decided recently that it’s up to me to decide whether or not I should get help. They think it’s for the best, but in reality it causes me to choose sides. If I decide to get help, my mom is right; if I decide to work on it alone, my dad is right. I want to keep everyone together and I don’t want to imagine what will happen if I decide on one of them, as it will probably end badly for everyone. I’ve been mainly “thinking it over” by lying on my bed, smelling the perfume my mom wears too strongly, hearing my dad play his video games, and staring at how dirty my room really is. Whenever I think about coming up with any decision, I start to panic and ignore it again.

Eventually they will need an answer from me, and I’m not sure what to say even after two weeks of dodging questions. I can already imagine how disappointed they will be with me for choosing either side. My mom will hold back tears and probably have a long talk about how she still loves me, but she thinks I’m making a mistake, while my dad will distance himself from me and avoid talking to me about anything, not really okay with it but not knowing what to say. It’s a tug of war against whether I want to be helped or I can help myself. My mother and father on either side of the rope, ready to accept victory, while I’m in the middle, not sure if either side is right for me. Time will only help but time is ticking like a death march. I love them, and I know that their arguments have made them so focused on who I love “more” that it is going to be hard. It’s hard for me as well considering I normally choose not to feel anything too intense before ignoring it and this is putting me into a situation I never put myself into at any other point.

It took a long time to decide anything but I think my decision will keep everything from falling apart. It took nights of fighting my own instinct of avoiding people and emotions but it finally seems to make a little sense to me. I wait for my parents to come home and sit down at the kitchen table, they both look ready for victory or failure, then I tell them that I am doing both. They both kind of laughed, expecting it to be a joke as they have been waiting to hear who “wins,” but I just waited for them to collect themselves before explaining.

“I will get help,” making my mom look proud, “but I will not take any medications, even if it is recommended, and I will only go once every two weeks. That way. I can work on it my own as well”.

They stay quiet for a while, making me wonder if I am siding too much with one or the other. They stare at one another with no look to distinguish on their faces. As I am beginning to rethink the whole plan and how to make it even more fair, they stand up and give me a hug. It is weird to say the least; I normally don’t hug anyone, but it isn’t as bad as normal since I’m still focused on trying to figure out what it everything means.

I begin counseling next week. They realise that I was trying to not pick a side and how childish they have been so we made a deal. I will do my plan for a few months, and if it works out, then we will continue, but if it isn’t good for me, then we will go to whatever I think is best without it being a side. I can’t say everything is better, as they are still adjusting to the idea, but it’s a step toward letting me have control of my own life and not treating me differently for having a mental illness.

My family and parents may never understand what it’s like to have Schizoid or whatever I have, and neither will anyone else who doesn’t have it or have a family member or friend that does. I think it has shown a part of the world to me that not everyone has had the chance to see and makes me not care what others think when I act like myself or put on a cape to defend the likes of cellphones from giant spiders. I’m not someone that fits into a stereotype but no one does, and it’s more normal for me to just go with what I feel and that usually means I’m alone and dreaming.