All throughout my childhood and adolescence that's all I wanted. I kept doing everything in my power to fit in, trying to dress, talk, and act like my peers. It was all in vain.
At some point I realized I'd never be able to fit in, the psychological abuse and emotional neglect I suffered as a kid made me not only profoundly different but profoundly dysfunctional. And to those saying that there's no such thing as normal and 'abnormal' is just a label full of stigma, while I do get your point I respectfully disagree. There's nothing wrong with being different, but being psychologically unstable to the point that one wrong word or even just a funny glance from a stranger sends you spiraling for days or weeks... don't tell me that's all fine and dandy, don't tell me it's just a quirk that psychiatry attached stigma to in order to eradicate individuality and sell psych meds.
I always knew something was wrong with me, before I knew what mental illness was or before I even knew how to verbalize or conceptualize how/why I was different. When I realized I'd never be normal I thought in a way it was better that way because normal people are boring and shallow. Until I met so many people who had never had anything traumatic happen to them and who never experienced any kind of mental health issue, yet they were still insightful, original, articulate and compassionate. And on the flipside, normal people have their issues too and even though they seem minor to us, they are as pained by them as we are. It would be easy for me to go "Oh, poor you, you had one little anxiety attack and now you refuse to leave the house for the rest of the day?" just because I had several a day for years and was still forced to go out and pretend like I was fine, with zero support and understanding from anyone. To them one anxiety attack, one depressive episode, one tiny thing feels just as monumental as my issues are to me.
Yes, I believe I am as understanding and prone to introspection as I am because I'm not normal. But plenty of people are that way on their own, so I can't say I needed all the trauma and all the mental illnesses to become this way. I might have gotten there anyway. So yeah, I do wish I could wave a magic wand and be normal, enjoy normal things and be able to do engage in normal activities. That doesn't mean I'd be boring or that I'd lead a shallow life, at least not necessarily. But it is what it is and I accept that that's impossible. The more my life gets worse the more I accept that it was all a waste of time and resources and it's ok for me to ctb.
Tl;dr: Hell yeah.
