I have one head, two eyes, two arms, two legs, two hands, two feet, ten fingers, ten toes. Nothing exceptional.
I wear glasses, but so do 65% of the adult population. Not an outlier.
I have tattoos, but so do at least 36% of adults. They’re nothing crazy either.
I read, go to the gym, watch TV, play video games, listen to music and like to cook. Show me what’s not normal there.
I brush my teeth and I even floss. Okay, the flossing is different, but it’s still normal. Recommended, even.
I have Bipolar II disorder. Cyclothymia. Manic-depression-lite.
I experience mood swings that range from almost euphoric excitement right through to the most crushing despair it is possible to survive.
I have lived my life by waking each day, never knowing how I will feel. Never knowing if today, this day, will see me full of energy and ideas, or stuck in an endless desert of apathetic despair, literally unable to move.
I still don’t feel like this is different. For years, I thought this was how everyone lived. I just thought they were better at managing it than me. And now that I have a diagnosis, now that I get the support and assistance I need to manage (not cure, never cure, there is no cure) my condition, I can live life well.
I am, by definition, not normal.
But I am still “normal”.