Normalcy

A few weeks ago I had a brief, flitting brush with danger. I had been bitten by a tick, and when I removed it, my ankle immediately became swollen. My mother was worried that I'd contracted lyme

disease. After seeing how bloated my ankle was becoming, I was pretty worried too. However, I knew that it wouldn't be lyme disease. I knew I was safe, for one simple reason: I have been, and am, a very ordinary person. It's odd, that the stigma I used to punish myself with (normal, average, ordinary, nothing special) is also a shield that protects me from catastrophe. I never really believed I'd get lyme disease because that would be quite... special, which means it's completely inappropriate for me. That's what I told myself, and that's what ended up being the truth. It was a minor infection; no lyme disease.

I realized that I use this label as a coping mechanism, at times. It's certainly been unhealthy in the past; denying unhealthy feelings because they're not normal, or expected from somebody like me is wrong. It's not healthy. That behavior in and of itself is not normal. 

Old habits die hard, I suppose. I've made a lot of progress -- I don't use that defense as much, and I've made peace with myself over my individuality and my own unique flaws. Isn't it ironic? It's so easy to spot your own unique weaknesses, but it's impossibly difficult to find your personal strengths.