Not Normal

It happened just last week — a colleague and I were discussing people at work and he casually observed, “You know, we have a pretty weird group working in our department (a Kindergarten at an International School in Beijing), I mean, I don’t know that I’m that normal, and you, Lethan, you are definitely a little weird, and…” he went on to observe the quirks of each individual. To be sure, his intention was not malevolent and I took no offense, but when the world “weird” flew past I was surprised by a slight sting as the tip of the term's tail stuck me.

“Weird” is a titled that most persons want to avoid. To be sure, there are people who embrace the term and flaunt “weirdness” in a highly public manner, particularly when seeking to define oneself in the teen years, but the social goals in these situations tend to involve the flourished alternative traits a part of seeking acceptance by a specific social group, an sort of initiation. I admit that I don’t make this claim from research, but from remembering my youth when I basked in “weirdness” with imaginative, performative displays that still sought the approval of some audience. That is, until I had Brain Injury and my relationship with the term changed.

I write this because after the injury, one of my primary social goals was to feel normal again, yet I always felt“weird” in social circles because my brain didn’t work in the way it used to. I admit, some of this self-deprecating fear might have been a concoction of my mind, but when a rare, nostalgic, catching-up conversation with a friend from that period of my life occurs and the topic of my inspirational speaking is brought up, I have learned that many of these friends did feel uncomfortable because of the new ways my new behaviors, in other words the new way my brain was working. They tell me that I was “weird” in a new way, and not necessarily in a good way — I seemed just a little out of place.

And it feels right when they tell me this, because ever since my injury I’ve been looking to find a new “normal” that suits me, yet terms of abnormality continue to hang on. While I have not yet found any literature that supports this belief, I do think a portion of my oddness comes from the brain connections that formed during my early recover. If anyone reading knows literature that supports or refutes this claim, please leave it in the comments or send a message. Regardless, I’ve resigned myself to the supposition that I will always be a little weird, and I suspect that if you’ve had brain injury, you will be also.

But how to deal with that? Personally, I do find it uncomfortable to be tagged as “weird” regardless of any personal acceptance about the term, so how can we who have experienced Brain Injury balance the sting that comes from the term with an appreciation of how it might be appropriate? Having pondered this for a few days, these are the thoughts I came to:

First thing, recognize that the concept of “normal” is false. I don’t think that this is hard to reason and I believe it was a lesson learned in my early schooling, but for a refresher course — you must know that there is no absolute in what the world considers “normal”, as trends are always in flux and change drastically dependent upon location and time. Clearly, what was normal in 1920s United Kingdom is very different from Beijing in the 2020s. That is an extreme example, but by looking the waves of fashion one can always see acceptable norms changing, and having no constant in some ways diminishes the meaning of the terms “weird” or “normal”. As stated, this is a lesson of self-acceptance I remember from elementary years, and while I don’t know if you had the same, I think it is fairly simple to agree with the logic of the argument.

Yet, there is something different about being “weird” from Brain Injury. While the definition in any moment refuses to remain constant, there is still a spectrum of traits that can be considered “normal”, and it seems that an altered manner of thought that often comes from brain injury is something outside of this range all together. People with brain injury can seem a little outside of the norm, or to use the word of the essay, they seem weird.

Now, it is possible that this sense of “weirdness” could be subjective to the survivor and might not be recognized by other people, but I write this a survivor who has consistently felt like I can’t fit into any acceptable social mold since my injury, despite the many times I’ve tried. Also, referring to the incident that inspired this pondering, it doesn’t seem odd to have the label of “weird” placed upon me by a relatively new acquaintance. So to empower myself, I will accept that term and add — “I am a little weird, and a part of that is because I had brain injury, and I have every right to be damn proud of that. I’m alive.”

And if you ever feel like you don’t quite belong in a setting because you had brain injury, or perhaps not brain injury but some other incident or disease — severe depression, cancer, a bullet — I encourage you to accept that you have been shaped by a maze of pain and confusion that most people can’t begin to conceive. You’re a little weird. This sort of maze can mess with a person’s physicality and will screw with one’s psyche — it’s going to make you a little weird, and having that label applied can make one feel a little uncomfortable at times, at least it does in my case.

I don’t have a solution for this any more than an explanation of how you fell can fix a broken arm. I would love to textually shout, “BE PROUD OF YOUR WEIRDNESS FROM AN INJURY, FOR YOU SHOULD TAKE PRIDE IN THE FACT YOU ARE WEIRDLY ALIVE!!!!” but such bravado feels forced — if you don’t want to be considered “weird”, you shouldn’t force yourself to take pride in it. That said, you should be proud that you continue to live, for that allows the infinity of possibility. As a survivor, be it from Brain Injury or another trauma, you have lived through a set of experiences that can be a boon while remaining a burden, and holding both of these will change you. If there are times when you are down on yourself feeling being weird, recognize that this is part of the package, and while the magnitude of discomfort is something that will come and go, the learning from living can always remain.

I hope that my rumination can help prove some sense to an occasional discomfort you feel. Please leave comments, I’m still working out these thoughts on this and would love to read yours — and survivors, please tell me if you agree that there is a specter of feeling weird since your injury that seems to follow you. I don’t mean to be weird about it, but I made some assumptions in the article and I want to get an idea of how common those feelings are.

Thanks for taking the time to read and share your thoughts!