Okay, I’m going to cut right to the chase. Here’s a list of things I don’t like about myself…
- A receded hairline
- Arms that will only get so big no matter how much I workout
- Being over-sensitive
- Being long-waisted (at least it’s been 25 years since I’ve been “long-wasted”)
- Occasional mood quirks
- Being anxious
Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be deaf or blind? I sure have, and I’m very grateful I’m neither. But as I write that, I wonder what someone who’s deaf or blind would have to say about it? I mean, I’m saying I’m grateful I’m not something they are – as if what they are is something atrocious. Sounds rather judgmental, if you ask me.
At any rate, not only have I wondered what it would be like to be deaf or blind, I’ve wondered if ever having hearing or sight makes a difference. What I mean is, if one was born deaf or blind, therefore never experiencing hearing or sight, would that equate to not lamenting over not being able to hear or see? I mean, how could one be upset about not having something, if one never knew the reported joy of that something?
So maybe being deaf or blind is only a horrible circumstance if one used to be able to hear or see. Maybe not. But the fact of the matter is being deaf or blind is flat-out reality, and barring some miracle that reality isn’t likely to change.
Does the word “normal” hold any relevance or meaning for us? What exactly is “normal” anyway? And does the fact that we once knew ourselves (or at least thought we did) as “normal” make it all the more difficult to accept our anxiety, depression, mania, or whatever’s giving us a rough time? I suspect it does.
That said, what if we were never “normal,” living as long as we have smack-dab in the middle of our pathology – never knowing any better (or worse)? Look, we are who we are. Yes, striving to improve and make the best of one’s circumstances is a good and necessary thing. But ultimately there comes a time when we have to accept life as it’s been delivered to us. And, okay, I’ll say it – “and stop whining about it.”
- My hairline will stay receded, short of a plug-job or brownish-grey spray paint (both of which aren’t going to happen)
- My arms will remain only nicely shaped, not huge
- I’ll always be sensitive
- I’ll always be long-waisted
- I’ll always be a bit moody
- I’ll always be anxious
But isn’t there at least a measure of peace – “normalcy” – in acceptance?
Your thoughts are always valuable to all chipur readers and clients. Won’t you share in a comment(s)?