What is a normal life? Whoa big question today, and gees this would have been a lot easier to answer mid 20th century. You know, starting with the whole spouse thing, 2.3 kids, a home in the suburbs, little league and church on Sundays. Even then, is this or can this ever be really true?
I mean a human being is such a complex and dynamic organism.
But, hey to continue on with my shitty little stereotypes, this family focused simple model got stretched or even blown by the turn of the century. Greed became more prevalent as did self-importance, and it wasn’t just about owning a car anymore but a luxury car. Materialism took over, privilege and entitlement played out, only then I think the last decade has seen a reclassification of ‘normalcy’ to include social connection and social/political interest (not involvement yet).
Still, these are just my savage opinions and observations, if you want something more accurate maybe to to a real history buff or philosophiser. I’m merely a rambling lunatic lol. Regardless though, and what I’m slowly getting at is that we all have expectations, either implied or our own. And then what I really want to get at is that many of us compare our lives to others to assess our efficacy and that we are meeting social/our expectation. Or heack maybe it’s even out of jealousy?
Ekk… OMG I’m doing my massive ramble thing again. Sorry. With all this deep shit, really all I wanted to say is that it sucks when I compare my life to others. And even if there was a normal, oh man I am so far away from that it’s not funny. Even pre-Covid, I’m used to lockdown style isolations, shit at one point I actually spent 4 months in bed without getting up even once. Weird life. But sob stories aside, all I was really hoping for was a luxury bed bath haha (read into that what you will).
Actually, this comparing thing is what I really wanted to talk about today (typical, as I’m now nearly at 500 words). So, to get cracking, I used to find this all so hard. Every time someone had a baby, got married, even got a new car – I was always happy for them but shit I was also so jealous (and hurting about my predicament on the inside). But as the years passed, I couldn’t even pinpoint what changed but something did, and now I’m just running my own race. I’m happy for others successes and strangely content with my own ‘abnormal’ ones.
And maybe I realised that the stories we tell ourselves aren’t always true, our truth is found in our hearts and not others – no matter what our predicament or reality. Hence, there is amazement to be found in the ‘things that are meant for you’.
Sorry for the abrupt ending.