When I was little, I was fascinated by the idea of color blindness. It seemed absolutely bananas that what I saw as green, could be purple to someone else. PURPLE!
I was troubled by the idea of purple lawns and a violet-tinged St. Patrick’s Day, but what really got my goat* was considering that my sense of normal might not be the right normal. Meaning, there was a chance that everyone else could see colors the right way, and I was the lone weirdo who’d go my entire life wondering how blueberries got their name.
*safe expression to use when teetering close to 30
Fortunately for me and optometrists wordwide, I outgrew this obsessive fear by adolescence. But the idea that my perception of what’s normal could be off-base has always remained.
For example, I think it’s perfectly normal to have long, deeply personal conversations with strangers.
I also believe that driving in reverse is incredibly difficult, scrambled eggs are gross without ketchup and that everyone should have a dog.
Sometimes, I’m prompted to reassess whether these guiding principles of life do, in fact, apply to all humans. Other times, it’s way more enjoyable to just entertain the notion that everyone’s entitled to define her own kind of normal.