I used to worry.
I can remember trying to explain to my grade seven teacher that I was having trouble with the work we were doing because I was unable to picture myself getting married, or having a "regular" job. We were supposed to be "journaling the future" or something like that.
I remember secretly wondering if I were going to die very young, because I seemed to be the only one in class who was having trouble making up my future story.
Mrs MacDonald told me to try journaling about my wedding day, or the house I'd live in. When I couldn't think of anything she said it was because I "wasn't ready for that kind of thing" yet.
I figured it out.
It wasn't a symptom of being doomed to an early death. Or a lack of "readiness". It was the subconcious acceptance of the fact that I will never lead a "normal" life.
How on earth could I have imagined what my life would grow into? How could I predict how many paths I'd deviate from?... Why on earth wasn't I provided with coping mechanisms for the realization that other people aren't as comfortable with my life-path as I am?
Beh.
There is no normal.
ReplyDeleteThey should spend more time stressing that in elementary school than a lot of the other crap they try to force-feed into young minds.