I don’t feel normal

It’s been about four years since I moved out of the house where I survived childhood abuse. I’m a woman in my mid 20s, and by this time I had assumed I would get some sort of grasp on socializing, working, and living a normal life. I don’t feel normal.

I feel like most of my conversations in public settings are superficial. I feel like an actor acting out a play, trying to play the part of a normal person. I feel incredibly alienated from my peers due to my experiences growing up, and how much they differ from other peoples’ upbringings.

I had to grow up incredibly quickly as a kid. I had to make hard choices I shouldn’t have. I had to get creative in order to survive. I had more emotional intelligence and empathy than my “family” members; I was forced to be parentified to my own parents as a pre-teen.

In social settings I stay silent. I observe. I laugh. I look put on makeup to look pretty and to camoflage my off-putting behavior. I am sure that others look down on me. They probably think I’m stupid. They probably feel bad for my partner. They don’t understand the complexity of my situation, and they don’t know that I’ve had to work 10x harder than them to receive much less in comparison.

My whole life I have been treated as less than. I have always had to prove myself. No matter what I did, I was never enough for my father. Even though my father has been banished from my life for years, his words and actions still cut deep. I feel like almost every decision I make from the friends I choose, to the clothes I wear, to the partner I chose, was all shaped by my traumatic upbringing. Most decisions I make are made with deep intention and are strategic. Even though I wanted to go to university as a young kid, it feels like I went in an attempt to prove I’m not stupid.

After years of therapy, years of living in a new healthy environment, years of being with a supportive partner (and his supportive family), and years of observing and attempted acclimation regarding my peers, I don’t think I will ever be normal.

I would have had an entirely different life, personality, and accomplishments had these things not happened to me— had my parents not burdened me with awful experiences so young. I greive that life the way I greive what I wish my parents were.

I am convinced I will ever be normal in this life. I feel irrevocably altered by my experiences growing up. There is not enough time in a human life for me to recover. I can only adapt and move forward, the way I always have. I can only be resilient and hope that in my next life, I will have the privilege to live the life I deserve— that I will be loved and treasured by my family. Until then, I can only live my disparate version of “normal”.