Finding Normalcy: A Journey Through Identity and Purpose

Can you give me a drug to make me feel normal?

I sat in silence after pouring out my thoughts, while a young resident psychiatrist diligently jotted down notes. To me, it was a sincere question, a plea to feel "normal" or at least in sync with the rest of the world. However, to her, it hinted at something deeper, something that spoke to my self-perception. My identity, my self-image, lay shattered, and I viewed myself as a social outcast—a feeling that has persisted throughout my life. Even after being prescribed drugs to "balance out my mood swings," the root of the problem remained untouched. Like many other attempts, this too failed, leading me back to self-medication with alcohol and a sense of stagnation.

I often feel like a square peg in a world of round holes, waking up each day to fit into a society that seems to lack a place for me. There's an underlying conviction that I'm made for something more profound. It's akin to the sensation adopted individuals might experience, not quite fitting in with their families but not understanding why. While I'm not adopted, I am undeniably my parents' product, evident in the talents I've inherited and their struggles with identity. It feels like a kind of earthly purgatory, the curse of a restless wanderer.

What hinders us from discovering the meaning of our lives? What prevents us from pursuing our dreams? Is it fear, distraction, deception, or perhaps a misleading dream sold to us in our formative years?

Envy creeps in as I observe those who have found their life's calling, waking up each day with a clear sense of purpose. In contrast, I wake up questioning my decisions and pondering the reason for my existence. What could God possibly want from me? Surely, there are others smarter and more capable. I appreciate His patience, as these questions, if asked of me daily, would likely wear me down.

I believe that this discomfort and uneasiness point to a purpose we were born with, a purpose we have yet to discover. Maybe it's due to a lack of faith or an unreadiness for what lies ahead. Perhaps we are still proving our commitment to following God's will, or maybe God is using trials to shape our character. Currently, I find myself in this uncomfortable space, questioning my motives and assessing the extent to which I rely on my own strength. The journey of faith, I've discovered, is not a guarantee of simplicity; it involves ongoing self-reflection.

The world excels at distracting us from our true intentions, taking our good intentions and overwhelming us with too much to handle. Moderation becomes the antidote to this, growing steadily and slowly, which can be uncomfortable in a world that craves immediacy. I acknowledge my impatience, always in a hurry to know, to have answers, to help everyone. Attempts to bypass God's waiting, testing, and trials only lead to the same anxiety and uncertainty. It's as if every attempt to jump out of the nest before being ready results in God pulling me back and saying, "You're not ready."

Four months ago, I felt invincible, like I could walk on water. I didn't anticipate the trials that lay ahead, testing my faith and determination. The verdict is still out on whether I'll face these trials joyfully, continuing to trust or leaning into my own understanding. As I delve deeper into the Bible for answers, I acknowledge that waking up today means God isn't done with me yet. So, for now, I'll continue to be tested and prepare for when God says I'm ready.

I once heard a preacher say, "Jesus never ran anywhere." What a profound statement. Jesus wasn't in a hurry; He waited, trusted the timing, and fulfilled His purpose. That's what I aspire to be remembered for—doing what I was put here to do.

Until next time, God bless.