I’ve been in therapy for over a decade, on medication for about the same length of time, and, at 36, am just starting to get my life together.
I’m also just starting to realize that there is NO normal. And after years of beating myself up because I didn’t have the perfect body or a witty sense of humor or a high-paying job, I have come to the realization that, as long as I’m OK with me, then the me I am is OK – the me I am is enough.
Now, I know I might sound Zen and seem like I have things (somewhat) figured out, but that could not be further from the truth. Seriously! Every day is a struggle. I have what can only be described as the world’s longest running debate going on in my head every second of every minute of every day.
Whether I’m tying my shoes or drafting an email, there’s a voice in my head that questions every single thing I do: “Oh Renee, you shouldn’t say that! It sounds presumptuous. You’ll look like an idiot.”
And another voice that tries to justify things: “You’re 36 years old, you should be able to say what you want. Send the email already! Right there, the button that says “SEND”.
And yet another (I picture this one standing around in a housecoat clutching a bag of chips) who thinks I should just go to bed all the time: “You know what? Forget this damn email.. let’s go to bed. Everything is so much easier when you’re in bed.”
And then there’s the issue of never truly feeling happy. To anyone other than my two best friends and my boyfriend I look as though I’m generally in a good mood. I don’t cry in my office, or mope around all day, but inside I feel empty.
It’s like when you put your hands over your ears and you talk and the world sounds all funny and muffled. You hear things, but not well.
Or when you put on someone else’s prescription glasses and you can see the shape of something in front of you but you can’t really tell what you’re looking at. It’s too blurry.
I have an intense hate for perky people as a result of this. Mostly because I envy them for their ability to feel extreme happiness and optimism. And I fantasize about throat-punching the perky girl in my office just to watch that big, dumb smile melt off her face for two freaking seconds.
Ok, maybe that’s a bit much…
So… I guess, like the header picture suggests, my version of reality is just different from most. It’s taken me a long time to figure that out… I’ve always just thought that I was broken or defective. Like there was something really, seriously, truly fucking wrong with me but it turns out there isn’t. I’m just me. And I’m learning how to deal with being me while trying to love the me I am – imperfections, crazy voices, bad days and all.