Day 24 — Appearing Normal Is a Full-Time Job

Today I had an interesting experience: I observed office women being competent, just doing their jobs, looking sharp. They were put together—hair pinned up, nails done—filling in forms and answering the phone. To me, they felt like the peak of normalcy. If someone were to describe “office women” to me, they would all fit the bill.

As I get older, I find myself asking: how do they do it? What is the magic trick? How do they get up every morning, perfect this persona, and then carry it through the entire day as if it’s effortless—as if that is simply who they are? No pasta sauce spilled on that crisp white shirt.

I would probably feel less awkward in a clown suit than in their clothes. Not because I prefer being an obvious weirdo, but because it feels even stranger to be different on the inside and pretend not to be. You lose twice, and nobody really buys it.

I used to think I was spoiled, lazy, or just plain wrong for not wanting what they seem to want. But I am starting to see that it’s something else. I am a different kind of animal. The same way a bird can’t be a rabbit, I can’t be something I am not.

There is still so much I don’t know, but maybe—just maybe—I am okay as I am. Sensitive, neurodivergent, and queer. Flying to China to be with my boyfriend, studying remotely, living with family, and painting my home yellow. Maybe this is enough, too.

I hope that I can contribute to the lives of those women through the things I make—not all the time, but sometimes. To invite a little wonky energy into their homes, a colourful exhale. I love making things for people like me, but I think sometimes it’s those women—who have bought into the lie of perfection—who need us weirdos the most. They need the rainbow mural, or the chair that doesn’t quite look like a chair.

Isn’t imperfection what makes us human—the thing we connect over? I have so many questions, but either way, I feel grateful. Office women handle environments that I cannot. They hold the system together, and without them, many of our institutions would fall apart.

Learning to accept this difference, I want to focus my energy on the things I am actually good at—the things I bring to the table. Instead of draining myself trying to look normal, I can move on and be happy. I don’t know what is ahead for me, but I want it to be wonky. A life with a shape I can truly inhabit.

Tomorrow is another day of facing my fears. But for tonight, my day is done—nothing glamorous, but steady progress. I’m back in bed, with my heating pad and a cup of tea.

I hope you are well, wherever you are.
Celine