Personal Narrative: The Word Normal

Her father’s words echoed through her head as one might hear a reverberation throughout the Taj Mahal. Continuous. Chilling. Having no control to distill the wavelengths until they mellowed out on their own accord. She tried to anatomize the depth of his phrase, more than dutifully needed but Davina needed to know why. Why did she need to keep an open mind and more importantly, who the hell was about to come bursting through that door. But then again, did it really matter in the first place. When she thought about it, the brunette could have laughed at the idea. That an unattributed, faceless figure had her panties in a bunch. Surely Dominic wouldn’t think to waste her time with venial diversions,

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

The social norm I broke is making too much eye contact, or staring excessively, at my teachers. While sitting in class, I stared at my teachers more than I stared at my paper or looked around the classroom. It is usually normal for students to stare down at their desks and not look at the teacher a lot.

I grew up as one of the hardest things to commit to, black and alternative. My meaning of alternative is being interested in goth fashion and heavy metal music. From what I was told, being black is listening to hip-hop and dressing like everyone else around them or what is the social norm. Clearly, my definition of alterative is contrasting on what it means to be “black.” I say it's hard to commit because coming from a closed black family, I felt pressed to let go of what I felt about myself just to make them happy. Questions like, ‘’Why are you trying so hard to be different?’’ or ‘’Who told you that was okay?’’ Still replay in my head whenever I decide to wear something that I would feel most comfortable in. Not long ago, I got into an arguement

They called me an apple. Since I was supposedly red on the outside, but white on the inside, I was automatically a walking bullseye. Being one of the many oppressed Aboriginals, I understand their need to hurt someone else in an effort to release some of their internal pain. I understand why so many give up or turn into raging alcoholics in an effort to numb their pain. Coming from a reservation, my greatest challenge was proving to everyone that all the stereotypes about my people were fallacious. However, the need for a government and an education system that won’t keep on failing us repeatedly is imperative. The only way that I can make my voice heard is to break these stereotypes and to reach a higher education; hence my application for

“Casey, your group needs to do the stunt one more time!” coach said imprudently. It happened March 26, 2015; it was at the end of a two hour practice. During the summer months in South Georgia, it is utterly hot and humid, especially in our cheer gym (a warehouse with no air conditioner); it only has two heavy-duty fans and a roll-up door. With this in mind, my group became slightly irritated. Everyone was exhausted; nevertheless we still had to do the stunt anyway.

Ever since I was little, I’ve found difficulty in the most simple tasks. Talking to the server at any given restaurant, asking the teacher for a bathroom pass, or even getting up to throw something away at lunch. I had a really hard time talking to people or having attention drawn to me. I couldn’t communicate with anyone, and every time I was left alone I always thought something would happen. I would always worry about drawing too much attention, or looking a certain way, or getting the worst possible outcome no matter what I try to do. I thought that all of my fears were dumb and that I was being over dramatic about everything. I was always worrying about something, and it was futile. I got nowhere making myself worry

I personally found trying to find a single “Social Norm” to break challenging so I chose to do two instead. The first was to end my phone calls with I love you, and to talk to a stranger in the bathroom stall next to my own. Which is how I confessed my undying love to a coworker. Working at a casino, employees have to call surveillance for anytime they move around with money or have to be escorted to the vault. I’m a pretty lively person but going into work, I started to get this bashful nature about myself especially the closer it came to performing both of the social norms I gave myself to break.

I chose to break the norm of either smiling at strangers or giving them a neutral look when you make eye contact. I decided to give every stranger I passed a confused look like they had just spoken to me in another language. I must admit, this made me feel a bit goofy. I was on the fence as to whether or not to do this in the first place but I decided I just had to. The responses I received were quite comical. A few people asked if I was alright, and one person even asked if I had a problem with them.

I had always been known to be an anxious child. My adolescence was filled with therapy visits, new medications, and a constant stomach ache. Throughout the entire fourth grade, I was probably at home more than I was at school. I worried about average kid things; my little sister, elementary school, my parents. I also worried about some not so average little kid things; like if someone poisoned my toothbrush, someone would get sick at school tomorrow, or even my grandma always feeding me so I would get fat and she would eat me. No matter what is was, I constantly would fixate on it and do things to avoid it. It wouldn't be until I was about 14 where I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

When I had first arrived at the program, I wrote to Carlos thinking that it would be worth trying to get my parents to hand off my letters to him. They did a few times. One day during group therapy, Norm paced around the outskirts of the circle we were in. He stopped, studied his feet, and crossed his arms around his back.

Following a predestined path is a simple thing to do. Birds flying south. Fish swimming upstream. One mirroring the other, blindly accepting the norm. This is a collective trait in humans that guides us to take the "normal" path in life; however, there is no one "normal" that suits everyone. We grow and flourish in a plethora of divergent environments with different and distinct experiences. If we all tried to follow the "normal" path, it would be toxic. That is why I challenge the idea of the norm.

Normal is a matter of circumstance, this is one thing that I have been told all my life; that’s one reason why I never thought my childhood was that different from any other. I was perfectly okay with everything that was happening. It wasn’t until the day that I sat in a waiting room for hours, with people from my church, waiting for my mom to get out of surgery. My little child’s mind thought that we were just hanging out with the people and that they were being nice by buying my sister and me any candy that we wanted, I didn’t really give a second thought to why we were waiting.

It all started with my nose. The flat bridge was constantly squished and prodded by my little fingers when I stood in front of the mirror. My nose- short and wide- was just the first physical trait of mine that I could differentiate from my peers. In every yearbook that showcased our school’s students, I always stuck out like a sore thumb. Physical features such as this were the only thing I could compare between me and my friends, who were all undeniably white in our Minnesotan town. They had narrow noses with high arches that crinkled when they smiled, which was the image of perfection for a flat-nosed outsider like me. To a child growing into the period of life where everything revolves around outward appearances, the worst possibility was being an outlier in a sea of people complying to the same standard.

The panic attacks had scarred me, traumatized me, and changed me into someone I couldn’t recognize anymore. I had always been a shy person that would overthink everything but it wasn’t just shyness anymore, I was terrified. Terrified o taking the bus by alone. Terrified of going to the store. Terrified of going to classes. Terrified of being left alone.