"The New Normal"

So, I guess I've been feeling a little crazy lately with so much time on my hands. Crazy is kind of a double edged sword in that it takes crazy to appreciate crazy, which is awesome because not only does it compel me towards my kind, where I find myself more comfortable in the company of those who need no explanation; those who never ask me, "Why?", the caveat being, however, that crazy people generally feel more paranoid, most likely due to the thoughts that never cease to rush through the maddened  mind, which, of course is why there exists such a fine line between genius and madness, however, these thoughts can be dark and drive us to expression, forcing a need to have only crazy people to share them with, as they don't think you're crazy.
The other day, I was talking with my person. This man is my person because he is the one person (in my entire life) who has never asked me why and never judged me based on my madness (he only judges my empathy, choosing to describe love in the most derogatory tone). I was in the midst of one of those episodes in which word vomit is simply uncontrollable when I let it flow. The thing about me is that I use my knowledge in my rant and some of the things I say, be they truthful, nevertheless, could easily be construed as terribly hurtful. In his response, he thanked me. He never said I was crazy, he never denied any of the things I accused him of (and I don't mean accusing him of the usual things women accuse men of and vice versa. I mean I was pointing out very substantial behavior that has impacted his life for years and has led to less than acceptable consequences) and he was not nasty at all. He simply explained why he did what he did to me and said he wasn't doing it intentionally. I cried when I read this response. Here I sat, worried how he would process my words. Worry for naught. I responded to him that I was trying to be normal. Trying, I reiterated. 
"Normal", he replied, "is a loose definition."
I thought about that statement quite extensively, obliging me to ask a couple of people with varying personalities to define normal for me. The first person I asked espouses no spirituality whatsoever. He is logical and a scientist, emotionless. This is what he said, "Normal is remaining within the social constraint. Deviating from what society deems normal is abnormal." I, not one to have ever been a conformist must have appeared straight-jacket-worthy to the masses forever. My definition of social norm is paying taxes. I also asked my daugher, who is twenty-eight and very balanced in her emotionality. She's highly passionate, but quite logical in the understanding of her passion and emotionality. She says normal is, "No drama". This tells me that Jeanine's normal is a sort of Cleaver family existence. For her, normal is a behavior. For me, normal is the opposite of insanity. I imagine normal people to be those free of clinical personality disorders, not in need of medication or therapy. When I told my person I was trying to be normal, this is what I meant. He and I are both keenly aware of that definition. We have either seen it, inherited it or felt it, that sensation of not feeling normal. What is so important to me about his statement in regards to normal being a loose definition is that I had never really looked at it that way, which is why I asked a couple different people to define it. He is right. Normal is subjective. 
Realizing that we all have our own definition of normal, I have decided, after long contemplation, that I am changing my definition of the word. Normal to me is living with what remains. What I mean by what remains is that we are the subsequence of our adolescence.  In these formative years, we become who we are. Our personalities are formed in these years and those personalities are said subsequence. It is also in these years that we gather the tools necessary to build our lives. Those tools are provided by the adults in our lives. Say what you will, I am telling you now, that statement is the most consistent piece of information you will ever hear. This NEVER changes. It is the adults in our adolescence that provide us the tools we will use to build our lives. If we have not been provided the tools we need, and the ones specifically necessary, as well, we will spend the rest of our lives playing catch up. And the subsequence of this is my normal. I am always trying to amass the arsenal necessary to slay the demons I've been given, always trying to fit in, always trying to explain to people why I'm so emotional, and this is because it is what I believe "normal" people expect from me. This makes me so uncomfortable, I am forced, compelled to handle those feelings with a lack of sobriety. Perhaps if I just practice living the life I actually have and being the person I actually am, I will begin to feel normal. My normal is my past, my mother, my fear of falling too hard, no, my fear of the landing; the falling is fun. My normal is my personality, which is just what you get when you've seen what I've seen. My normal is practicing good behavior. And yes, I have to practice it, because that behavior, that which is needed from my loved ones is not my normal. But trying to be their normal is my normal. And knowing that I must keep close to me the people who already know that my normal is my normal and that the same is true of them; this is their normal. This is who they are. This is who they are. Recognizing empirically, or at least endeavoring to do so, my people's normal is my new normal. Having not been judged on my madness by my person is, again, how I come to this conclusion. While I have always endeavored to appreciate the inevitable behavior ancillary to their normal, at times I fall short and their behavior hurts without intent. What I have learned from keeping my person in my life is exactly what I needed to learn to be able to, to be strong enough to keep him there, and it is something reiterated by my daughter without my ever having asked her for her advice on my keeping him there, she said, "Don't you dare walk away from him because of his personality, his damage. His behavior is a result of his childhood and you have to be there for him, Mom. Don't you dare walk away." This is coming come from my well adjusted daughter whom I perceive to be one of the most normal people I know. 
As a writer, I never advise judging a book by it's cover. Consequently, several things remind me daily to look beyond the superficial (and I love this word. While I don't believe my person is completely superficial with his beautifully wicked charm, his personality would be described that way, verbatim. I, nonetheless, have always found him to be understanding and deep and exposed and accommodating on many levels) and when I do, I always find beauty in the discovery and am reaffirmed, knowledge of your people is a gift to them (and you) that keeps on giving. The more I know, the more I understand. Knowledge is power in this regard, especially. Coming to know that you are reciprocally understood is the most comforting feeling in the world. No numbing necessary there.
THIS is my new normal.

-Deannalynn ArzolaTweet