of normalcy. I live in lower Michigan. The common saying about the local weather is, “If you don’t like it, wait fifteen minutes; it will change.” Of course, that isn’t literally true, but the weather can be rather fickle no matter where you live. Winter weather conditions in Michigan vary widely, depending on the area of the state. The snowfall can run from a few inches to a couple of feet each year in the south, to several feet in the north; along Lake Michigan or in the Upper Peninsula, grab your shovel—it’s going to get deep. There is a wide range of temperatures as well. Still, each area of the state has a temperature range and an amount of snowfall that is considered normal.
Where I live, in the south central part of the state, winter usually begins sometime between late October and Thanksgiving. It does not let up until the middle of April, or sometimes as late as early May. It is normal during these times of the year to expect cold weather. Snow and cold are expected, and clouds seem to obscure the sun for the greater part of the winter season. January is usually very cold, and the temperatures can dip as low as zero-to-ten degrees Fahrenheit rather quickly.
The mercury can dip much lower, but that is not considered normal. Yet, if I venture outside in January and find the temperature is in the thirties, I think it is pretty much normal. After all, winter in Michigan is very cold. A particular winter day may not be as cold as I expect it to be in January, but it fits into my expectations of winter because I have a wide range of expectations for outdoor temperature built into my expectation of normal. When I am indoors, my expectations for the weather change dramatically. Expectations apply to all areas of my life.
For example, I have very strict expectations when I get into my car. I always expect it to start when I turn the key. If it does not start, look out; I may lose my grip on reality in a hurry. I also expect that when I put the gearshift into drive and step on the accelerator, the car will move forward. Then, I fully expect the brake pedal to bring me to a complete stop. In fact, I have come to expect these functions as being so normal that I am willing to bet my life on them—especially when it comes to the functioning of the brakes. If the car does not start or the accelerator does not move the car, I’m not leaving my driveway. However, if the brakes do not work after the accelerator has done its job, I am in big trouble. My expectation that the brakes will work is reasonable. I have developed this expectation over time. From the time I was young, I have ridden in cars, and the brakes have never failed, at least not yet. There have been some anxious stops due to snowy conditions, but those instances are exceptions, and they are not the fault of the brakes. They are the fault of the driver—and I always tend to give the driver a bit more leeway than I am willing to give the car, especially when the driver is me.
You can see that I have a wide range of expected normal with respect to the weather. However, regarding my car, that range quickly narrows. The same is true when it comes to my behavior. My range of acceptable normal behavior is much wider for myself than for others. For instance, when I am standing in line to pay for my goods and the cashier is taking his or her sweet time with the person in front of me, I can easily become annoyed and begin to think this behavior is other than normal. However, when I am the one working and someone mentions that I may be performing at below-average expectations, I am quick to come to my own defense. After all, I am working at a normal pace, carrying my normal workload.
What is normal in everyday life has a relatively similar range. A normal day is the same for most people. We get up, go to work or school, come home, eat dinner, perform some chores or participate in some recreational or leisure activities, watch some TV, and go to bed. It may sound boring when you think about it in this way, but it is normal nonetheless; it is the standard. In general, I consider a standard to be something I can rely on, like the brakes on my car—they generally perform as expected. However, normal seems to be much more expansive because, as the list of daily activities shows, there are many things that could be thrown in—or taken out—and the day could still be considered normal. Therefore, normal is, for the most part, what we understand as a range of acceptable behavior under a given set of circumstances.
In order to determine what is normal, I must make comparisons. Then I must make judgments based upon these comparisons. I do this every day. I make these comparisons with little or no detrimental effects to myself or to others. I go about my day ensuring that things go pretty much as planned. The house is still standing, the water for my shower is the proper temperature, the refrigerator has kept things fresh for me so I can make my breakfast, the stove will heat my food if I decide to cook, and my car starts so I can drive to work. Along my daily journey, I make comparisons at many points. If my car didn’t start, it would fall outside the bounds of normal, and my day would be upset to some degree. I would almost automatically take action to bring things back to what I consider normal, and I would do this to regain my expected level of comfort. I like things to be normal for the most part, so I naturally struggle to maintain a level of normalcy in my life.
Who really defines what is normal? For most of my life, I seemed to allow my parents, my teachers, the news media, and others to shape my definition of normal. If I was not allowing others to shape my definition, I certainly was not taking the time or making the effort to discover my own definition. I simply lived with a decision made at some time and place in my past that told me that I was not normal or that I didn’t fit in. This was an extremely unhealthy way for me to look at life. I no longer allow others to define what I believe to be normal, and I have begun to take a serious look at what I perceive as normal.
For example, it is normal for the United States of America to have a president. At one time, I thought it was normal to think that becoming president was a realistically obtainable goal. (While I would have to admit that it is normal to have a president, I must also admit that becoming president is not very normal at all.) As of this writing, the current president is only the forty-fourth person in the history of our country to hold the office. Forty-four people—forty-four men, actually—in more than 230 years is an extremely small number out of the total population of this country, especially when you consider the number of Americans who have lived throughout that time. Hundreds of millions of people have lived their lives in America since it was established as a country, and only forty-four of them have served as president. So, becoming president is not within the normal range of aspirations for most Americans, and never has been in our country’s history. This example is one of many instances in which I used to assume a highly unusual event was actually normal and attainable.
Becoming a star athlete is another useful example. There are very few people who can actually make it to the professional sports level. A similarly small number achieve rock- or movie-star status. Even the number of doctors in this country is relatively low compared to the population in general. Yet there was a time when I believed that achieving any of these careers was practical and attainable—in a word, normal. I cannot explain my former belief. I can tell you that while I now understand that reaching these levels of fame and fortune is possible, I no longer see doing so as “normal.” I now see it as extraordinary, more uncommon than normal. Like climbing one of the world’s great mountains, reaching these positions in life is possible only for a few people, because it is out of the ordinary for people to possess the skills and desires necessary to attain such lofty heights.
What is more normal and more reachable to the average person is more in the mainstream. Most people simply do not have the desire to push themselves to their physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual limits, at least not enough so as to sustain the level of effort required to reach, and maintain, the high level of performance required by the demanding jobs listed above (and the list could be much longer). When I was young, I wanted to be president, or a firefighter, a police officer, or a doctor. I was taught that I could do anything I wanted, and I figured these were all normal things that could happen to me. You may have a similar list of things you wanted to be when you grew up. If you are like me (that is to say, normal), you probably didn’t grow up to be any of the things on your list, either; and that’s okay.
We all know we have to work for the things we want in life, but I did not understand this at first. Just as I used to think that becoming the president, or a doctor, or a firefighter,
