Have we given “normal” too much power?
Many of us fall into the trap of interpreting people and their behaviour through the lens of our own lived experience. We subconsciously use our own “normal” as a benchmark. But what is normal, and who gets to decide?
If you look up the word, you’ll find something like:
Normal
adjective
usual, typical or expected
But usual, typical or expected by what standards?
Have you ever given some well-meaning advice that starts with something like, I think you should…, You need to…, If I were you…, or Why don’t you try…? Before you know it, you're halfway down a path of trying to provide all the answers to something you don’t fully understand.
Even with the best of intentions, the things we say because we care, want to help or even want to fix a situation can sometimes be unhelpful to the person on the receiving end. When we take a step back, we may realise that what seems reasonable or manageable to us might not feel the same to someone else.
The difficulty is that we don't always realise we're doing it. It’s easy to make assumptions based on what we know, what we've been through and what has worked for us. In many ways, it's how we make sense of the world. We give advice because we want to make things better. We want to give people something concrete to do, so it’s natural to volunteer suggestions about what we believe might help.
But their experience isn't ours.
And it doesn't just work one way. We don't only make assumptions about what is normal for other people; we can turn those same questions on ourselves.
Have you ever questioned your own thoughts or behaviour? Should I be thinking this? Is this the right thing to do? Why do I feel this way? Is this normal? Am I normal?
Sometimes we keep those thoughts to ourselves because we don't think anyone will understand. Or perhaps we're worried about what someone might think of us if we said them out loud.
Our reactions aren't always predictable or easy to make sense of. Something can catch us completely off guard and we can find ourselves acting in ways that surprise us. Sometimes we're trying to make sense of it ourselves before we can possibly explain it to someone else.
Maybe we think we're overreacting. Maybe we think we should be coping better. Maybe we're surprised by how strongly something has affected us. Maybe we're worried about how someone else will react if we tell them. Or maybe we simply don't have the words yet.
So we say nothing.
But perhaps we don't need to have all the words. We don't need to share every thought, feeling or detail to let someone know we're struggling. We can choose what we're comfortable sharing, when we're ready to share it and who we want to share it with.
We don't have to share every detail of our experience.
Sometimes, simply saying “I'm finding things difficult at the moment” is enough.
And perhaps this is where the idea of “normal” becomes particularly unhelpful.
There isn't always one right way to respond to something difficult.
Two people can experience something similar and react in completely different ways. One person might want to talk about it. Another might need some space. One might want practical help. Another might not know what they need at all.
None of those responses necessarily tells us what is normal.
It tells us that people are different.
And perhaps that's worth remembering when someone shares something difficult with us.
We don't always need to understand exactly how someone feels in order to be there for them. We don't necessarily need to have experienced the same thing. And we don't always need to find an answer.
When someone shares something deeply personal with you, sometimes a simple “Thank you for sharing that with me.” is enough.
Listening. Being there. Staying in the moment. Not judging, minimising, making assumptions, putting pressure on the person or trying to explain the situation. Not rushing to fix something that may not be ours to fix.
Because sometimes the person talking to us is still trying to understand what is happening themselves.
Perhaps the better question isn't always, “Is this normal?”
Perhaps it's, “What does this person need from me right now?”
And sometimes, the answer might be nothing.
There may be nothing you can do to change what has happened. Nothing you can say to make it better. Nothing you can fix.
And perhaps that's one of the hardest things for us to accept.
We want to help. We want to make things better. But sometimes we can't.
We can listen. We can make space. We can stay present.
We don't always need to know every detail or understand it all. We don't always need to have the answers.
Sometimes, being there is enough.