Normal

I remember when I was newly married and watched the way my husband did things vs the way I thought they were supposed to be done. I remember making the bed with hospital corners only on my side of the bed and a heavy blanket because I like the cocoon feeling and my husband felt trapped. I thought about how much I loved the bed posts and he couldnt stand a bedframe at all. I remember things slowly fell into two categories: normal and me.

I didn’t yet realize how different I would become.

I always come back to these markers. Normal. Me.

My father loves to remind me that “really, for your own good, you should see someone”. He’s mentioned therapy, group therapy, couples counselling, a psychologist, a psychiatrist because I’m not… Normal.

I have never asked how he feels about my stay in The Bin. I suspect I already know.

The truth is that I wish I could be normal. Oh don’t give me the bullshit about “Normal doesn’t exist, just be yourself” because you eventually find people like yourself. Whatever.

I have a normal boyfriend. He goes to work, comes home, is an animal lover, likes to go camping, meat and potatoes kinda guy. He suggested a cruise right around the time I heard about a kinky cruise. I thought that would be AMAZING but when I suggested it he simply said “Its okay to be normal. I don’t want to go on a kinky cruise”. I’d forgotten.

I want a cell pop in the shape of kitten ears. I want to draw on myself and take bubble baths with finger paint. I want to paint fairies and butterflies randomly on the walls. I want to dress up in outlandish fishnets and tutus. I want to get in the car and drive to New Orleans and have my palm read. I want to soak my crystals in moonlight and sage the house.

I don’t do any of those things.

Everyone that meets me eventually says something along the lines of ” you’re not normal”.

Dear Lord, I’m trying.

My kids apologize for me. Constantly. But the thing they apologized for??? WAS ALREADY FILTERED.

I want so very badly to hug my friends without having to stifle the urge to scratch and lick them. I want to go out to dinner without having to apologize for something I said or did.

It just fucking sucks to not be normal, ya know?