This is normal

Posted by Michelle L. | February 6, 2010 | 24 Comments

Southern Virginia University has an intriguing little calender on their website: Typical Ups and Downs of College Life.

For your reading pleasure– February:

* Feelings of claustrophobia and depression set in with winter
* Potential increase in alcohol and other substance abuse
* Challenges with love relationship at home
* Valentine’s Day brings out loneliness, isolation

Do you even want to read March?

* Anxiety regarding finding roommates for next year
* Excitement and/or disappointment regarding spring break plans
* Midterm exam stress
* Concern over summer employment
* Concern over winter weight gain

As I perused the list with my oldest son and laughed at the tragi-comedic (yet accurate) outline, I thought how comforting it would be for a struggling freshman to read it and sigh with relief– “It’s OK, I’m normal.”

And I mused how useful it would be to have a similar list for every stage of life– first job, dating, first year of marriage (and 2nd and 3rd and …), navigating a divorce, mourning a loved one, etc. Somehow our life paths don’t seem quite as difficult when we know that we’re normal, that others have trod the same ground.

My friend Missy told me of hiking with her dad when she was 8 years old. The hike was easy and fun for the first few miles, but as the elevation increased and Missy’s energy wore down she struggled for breath and fought to keep up with her father. Convinced that something was truly wrong with her body she called to her dad, “I can’t do it. You go on. I’ll wait here.”

Her father stopped, sat her down and gently explained, “You’re OK. We’re higher on the mountain now and the air is thinner. You have to take deep breaths and I need to slow down and walk slowly with you. You’re going to make it. You’re going to be fine. This is normal.”

For Missy, those words made all the difference– there wasn’t anything wrong with her; it’s normal to struggle when you are not getting enough oxygen.

Throughout my life, I’ve turned to friends and acquaintances and sometimes the lady next me in the doctor’s office for advice. With few exceptions, I’ve always found someone who said, “I feel exactly the same way.” “Me too.” “Oh, let me tell you about when I went through that.”

And then I breathe a sigh of relief, “I’ll pull through. This is normal.”

What are some challenges in life that you’d like an outline for?

Who do you turn to for advice?

How has the internet affected your perception of ‘normal’?

Have you had experiences where you thought you were completely alone and then found someone who made you feel ‘normal’?

Comments

24 Responses to “This is normal”

kik~
February 6th, 2010 @ 3:35 am

I wish that in general, we were more willing to tell each other when we’re struggling.

I’ve seen that everyone puts on the public face … until I say that I’m struggling. Then they might admit that they are too.
dalene
February 6th, 2010 @ 7:30 am

So true. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve gone through something (ACL surgery, being hospitalized w/ double pneumonia, my husband’s cancer surgery, teenagers), completely unprepared for what to expect, and wished for exactly that–to know what to expect. I feel alone and like somehow I must be “doing it wrong.” This is also why I feel compelled to take some of the bad or hard things that happen to me and use what I learned to help someone else who goes through the same thing later.

As for the Internet, I find myself sometimes wondering how different my experience as a mom of babies and younger children would have been had the Internet and the whole mommy blog community been around. That too was a lonely experience–most of the women I knew and where I lived were already past that stage and not too many of them were home. We weren’t as connected. I think it’s cool that there is so much information and support out there now.

But I know that even with that, there are many women who still feel alone and like they’re somehow “doing it wrong” in whatever they’re going through at the moment. That’s one of Satan’s favorite tricks.
Course Correction
February 6th, 2010 @ 8:32 am

From watching older relatives agonize over every new ache and twinge as if it’s a message saying the Grim Reaper is on his way,I know that’s a normal part of aging.

I can’t say it’s a great comfort to know such paranoia is normal now that my husband and I are doing the same darned thing.
Nancy R.
February 6th, 2010 @ 10:07 am

I would really like a guide to deal with difficult, mentally ill parents. Of all the guides I could choose, this would be the one!
jendoop
February 6th, 2010 @ 10:32 am

Your post reminded me of my miscarriage. I never considered that I would miscarry, none of my family members had, so it never crossed my mind. Then it struck out of no where, I felt very alone and flawed. In the weeks afterwards, as word got out, family members shared their stories of miscarriages, including my own mother. As much as it helped, it also hurt to know that the women I was related to kept this reality of life shielded from me until the horror was on my doorstep. If I had known their ordeals during my most painful moments – at the doctors office, in the bathroom bleeding, the physical aftermath – they could have been a soothing balm. Instead the miscarriage seemed a rite a passage that inducted me into a private and painful club. It seemed to perpetuate the wrong idea, that miscarriage is the fault of the mother.

Because of this and other similar incidents I’m open with my life and experiences. My husband would say too open, especially when I announced my depression in church If I can save anyone from feeling lost and alone simply because I opened my mouth then the chance of embarrassment or shunning by misinformed individuals is worth it.

That said, sometimes being naive is the only way to approach a situation. If I somehow saw ahead of time how difficult each stage of life would be I’d never dare tread the waters. I’d never have gotten married, I’d never have become a mother, I never would accept a calling, I’d never move, I’d never…
Julie R.
February 6th, 2010 @ 12:03 pm

When I returned from my mission, I asked a friend why she hadn’t told me how hard it was going to be. She said, “Would you have gone if I was THAT honest?” And truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have. Like jendoop commented, sometimes it’s better not to have the outline. Even if we know the outcome will be fabulous.

That said, I sure wish I had a handbook for how to be single and LDS. I know, I know–technically I have the scriptures, prophets, prayer, etc. but there are some really dark moments when those things just don’t quite work for me. I was completely, totally unprepared for the possibility that I’d be 37 and single. It wasn’t ever addressed by my parents or youth leaders that I *might* not ever marry.

The internet has helped somewhat, when I find blog posts (here and elsewhere) that address the topic…and figuring out that I’m not the only one really does help quite a bit.

Still doesn’t make going to church every week easier…although some weeks are better than others. Just like life, I suppose.
Jennie
February 6th, 2010 @ 12:16 pm

Having difficulties in the internet age has been interesting. Suffering through miscarriages early in my childbearing years before the internet was very popular was different than having them once I was older and more “online”. I found support groups online that totally saved my sanity. They were full of women who had gone through what I had gone through and were full of reassurances no matter how badly I was freaking out. I love the internet!
Jennie
February 6th, 2010 @ 12:19 pm

P.S. I can’t tell you how nice it is to see your family room full of toys and a cooler! It’s reassuring for messies like me.
Naomi
February 6th, 2010 @ 12:21 pm

I had an experience similar to this just this week. I am in the midst of interviewing for academic positions across the country–none of them local, all of them in places where I know absolutely no one. The prospect of an across-country move and starting my life from scratch (again) has been overwhelming and paralyzing. But just two days ago, a mentor of mine asked me how I was doing with the process and said, “It’s scary, isn’t it?” Her simply acknowledging that the whole experience is frightening and daunting allowed me to let go, to accept my feelings as being okay, and not having to act like I had everything together. I think a “guide book” would allow us to simply let go and accept that it’s okay to be present even in midst of all the yucky stuff.
corktree
February 6th, 2010 @ 1:26 pm

Finding those stories of support and confirmation of shared experiences is definitely the best part of blogging in my opinion.

But I still wish there were more people around me physically that opened up more often. I’ve been feeling lately like I’m alone in my 4th pregnancy experiences. Like by the time most women get to this point they don’t want to talk about the details anymore because it’s the same as all the other times. But it’s not. I’m continually shocked at how different this time around is and I long for the feeling of a first pregnancy and the unspoken excuse to ask any and everyone’s advice and reassurance. But I feel much more isolated this time and I wish I knew what the heck was going on and that this time is just as normal as all the rest. It seems like all the pregnancy books combined can’t really cover EVERYthing.

And I feel the same about needing to talk to people about miscarriages. It seems like there is so much sensitivity involved with saying the *wrong* thing, so a lot of people have taken to saying nothing. That was really hard when I had mine – and I found myself wishing people would acknowledge it and tell me their experiences, regardless of tact.
Angie f
February 6th, 2010 @ 1:47 pm

I was in law school and single and had been given the dream job offer, but that meant going to a city to which I had never been (except for the interview) and living there, alone–knowing no one–while trying to do an amazing and scary job. I was freaking out. A classmate saw my somewhat hyperventilative state and said “you know how to do this.” I questioned him and he said, you’ve been on a mission, you’ve done hard things. You know how to do this too. You find the bishop and ask for help finding an apartment, you go to church and you start.”

We don’t get guidebooks for most situations. The best we can hope for is the acknowledgement of others who’ve been there that our reactions are within the normal range of responses. Being reminded that the building blocks of most solutions are common and universal and involve seeking out the support we know is there has helped me weather many unknown and scary situations. It’s seeking that support that will most often lead us to those moments of “been there, you’re normal” that help us so much.

Sadly in our independent, can-do culture, we think we’re supposed to weather scary situations alone, that we’re supposed to believe each others’ game faces, forgetting that if ours is fake, chances are many others’ are too. It seems to take being faced with a situation we cannot manage alone for us to seek the help that a more interdependent life would have given us all along. I suppose that’s one of the many reasons trials and tribulations are important in life, they force us to reach out–to weather them, and then to support those who follow after.
anon
February 6th, 2010 @ 2:17 pm

Falling out of love with my husband. That was a biggie! I thought everyone felt butterflies for their spouses for the rest of their lives. After two years I couldn’t even stand him!

Reading The 5 Love Languages helped. There is a whole chapter devoted to the “in-love experience” and how it DOES NOT last. If I had known that in the early years of our marriage…wow. I felt like the most horrible person on the planet for putting up with my husband instead of worshiping him.

Now I understand that love is a choice and I make it conciously. But I still really wish I had known…
Kerri
February 6th, 2010 @ 2:44 pm

First of all, that picture is wonderful. It is just how I felt yesterday. Exactly.

I ALWAYS do better when I know someone else has gone through something similar, EXCEPT when they seem to have made it through just peachy and I’m struggling and miserable. I appreciate honesty, and humor, and good-naturedness, and realism. And it’s amazing to me when I hold something tight to me and don’t share it because I think I’m the only one feeling that way that pretty soon I discover it’s never just me. I’ve become much more open as a result. I figure we all need to see that we all have our struggles, whether they’re with finances, children, husbands, food, depression, testimony, whatever. I believe in being positive about the hardships whenever possible and not just throwing a bunch of pity parties, but I think it’s necessary for all of us to see that life is messy. The internet helps with that on sites like Segullah, but I have friends who look at strangers’ picture perfect blog lives and decide they’re the only ones who don’t have it together.

We moved 4 months ago, and everyone told me it would take a year to feel at home. Then my mom told me it took her 4 years to feel at home after our big move. Rather than making me feel miserable, it made me feel so much better to know that I don’t have a one year time table and then BAM I have to feel at home.

That being said, there are some problems that can’t be thrown out on the internet so easily, and I’ve been grateful for the spirit leading me to people who needed to hear what I’ve been through or people I need who have been through something I’m struggling with. Heavenly Father knows women need each other and helps us find those who can teach us what He wants us to know.
Melissa M.
February 6th, 2010 @ 4:22 pm

Love the photo, Michelle.

Since before I got married 21 years ago, I haven’t been close to my mother, and how I have longed for a mother to mentor me through my own mothering years. It’s felt very lonely. Too often I’ve had to just stumble through those messy parenting years and I have felt isolated in many of my challenges. I know I should turn to other women around me for support and advice, and when I do it has helped tremendously, but because I am shy and it is so hard for me to open up and talk about my real struggles with other women, I often just muddle through on my own. Luckily, I have sisters I am close to who help and advise me, but because I’m the oldest, I seem to be the trail blazer in a lot of areas. What I would have given all these years for a mother who could have said, “This is normal. You’ll be okay.” I hope to be that mother for my grown daughters (and sons).
April
February 6th, 2010 @ 4:33 pm

I’d like an outline for Church callings! I remember when I was first called as a councelor in Primary I was so overwhelmed. Now as Primary President I would love to go back to those days as a councelor. If only I knew then what I know now!
DeniMarie
February 6th, 2010 @ 6:25 pm

I have actually been thinking a lot lately about sadness being a normal healthy emotion. This was brought on by my IL’s being very upset that dd was sad they were going home from their visit. It suddenly dawned on me: how would they like her to feel, thrilled they were leaving? Wouldn’t the latter be a sign something was wrong, not the former?

Since then I have tried to apply this breakthrough. I need to allow myself to feel sad when sadness is appropriate. Negative emotions are part of life–not a sign that the world is going to crash into the sun. If I don’t allow myself to grieve and I just bottle all the hurt in, then I am being unhealthy.

And there are days I’m glad that God hasn’t given me an outline of my life. I know if I had known a year ago the situation I’d be in now I would have just been afraid for myself!
Selwyn
February 6th, 2010 @ 9:58 pm

As of yet I haven’t found anyone in real life or anything online that makes me feel ‘normal’, though thankfully I have found many people and places that make me feel not alone.

I’d like an outline of how to raise my sons, and how to navigate the next 10 years for myself. Though I’ve learnt that I don’t have to know what’s ahead (as much as I would LOVE to!) as long as I rely on my Pilot to guide me.

Like Melissa M I usually feel like the trailblazer, which while it means I can help others, also means I’m often wandering blind in the dark hoping nothing is going to bite me. I am glad, though, that I can help others through the blackness I have slogged through – nothing is as demoralising as feeling alone.

And that picture is perfect, in a totally everyday life kind of way!
Heidi
February 6th, 2010 @ 10:33 pm

A big “ditto” to jendoop. I’ve got about 65 other things to say, but I’ll just add that I would love a handbook on supporting loved ones during times of bereavement. As one who has not (yet) lost a close family member or friend, there are no words…and I need them!
Melinda
February 6th, 2010 @ 10:39 pm

I had a crisis of faith a few years back, and discovered that if you talk to people in real life about losing your testimony, they either tell you that you secretly want to commit sins and need to repent, or they treat you like a leper. It was on the Internet that I discovered an entire community of Mormons who had the same questions I did, and still went to Church. That was eye-opening. I thought if you doubted, you really were a pariah and should ban yourself from the company of faithful Saints to avoid contaminating them.

The Internet saved my testimony and my Church activity. It was wonderful to find that it was normal to have questions and doubts, and that other people had gone through rough times with their faith as well.
Cindy
February 6th, 2010 @ 11:19 pm

I am typically very open about some difficult experiences I’ve had because I was helped through them by knowing the other people had had the same experience. After I had triplets I had significant post-partum depression, and I talk about that openly. Although it is discussed more commonly now, for many years there was very little information about ppd. I also talk about how hard mothering 3 infant/babies/toddlers was for me, and how sometimes I didn’t like being a mother at all. There have been a few times when young mothers with difficult children told me how much that they appreciated my honesty; they felt such pressure to pretend like everything was great when they were actually having such a hard time. The last thing I’m very open about is the difficulty in having a parent die earlier than expected. My mom died when I was 30, and it was gut-wrenchingly difficult. If my willingness to talk about how hard it was can help even one person know that what they’re experiencing is ok, I’ll keep talking. (Well…I’ll probably keep talking anyway…)
Cissy
February 7th, 2010 @ 12:36 am

Reading Segullah and a couple other similar sites (The Apron Stage, for example) get me thinking and processing. I love the instant sharing, the variety of personalities and experiences. Then, I enjoy talking with my neighborhood book club, my visiting teaching circles, my sisters-in-law. I love the facial expressions, the body language, the real, live, LOL.

Both the virtual and the tangible are so valuable to me.
(Corktree…if you live in Utah County, I’ll come talk to you about four kiddos, and I won’t hold back the joys or the pains.)
Blue
February 7th, 2010 @ 1:54 am

i had an “ah ha!” moment right before reading this post while reading the dare to dream post http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/typepad/ONOi/~3/u6zXRiZTK8w/a-good-grief.html

i have a lot of those moments on D2D & Segullah. I’m addicted like a crack addict to these two sites, and am so grateful for the wisdom and the love that spill off the screen into my life every time i visit them.
j. vorwaller
February 7th, 2010 @ 1:57 am

What jendoop write really resonates with me too – I feel like I could have written the same comment! This is why I love Segullah….

P.S. My husband and I both went to SVU, (it’s where we met!) and we never heard of such an outline! HILARIOUS.
April
February 7th, 2010 @ 5:14 pm

A very wise leader once taught me about the Savior. He reminded us that when we take the sacrament, we are to remember Him at his lowest point, and when he appeared to the Nephites, he had them come feel the wounds in his hands and feet, not his biceps. In other words, we come to know the Savior by his wounds. We come to know each other the same way. How sad, then, that we always put our perfect face forward and feel that we cannot let others know the pain that we are in. If we did, we would become closer to each other, and as this post suggests, help each other in our journey.