I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are

by Rachel Bloom

As a mature adult, I’ve come to learn that trauma is real for everyone and just because someone had it worse doesn’t mean you didn’t have it bad.

Let’s face it: If you’re a person of substance, you are going to get bullied in school.

I grew up in the type of Jewish household in which I didn’t know a word of Hebrew, but I knew EVERY celebrity that had ever said anything anti-Semitic. Our Shabbat prayer was basically, “Baruch Atah Adonoi, Jesse Jackson, Vanessa Redgrave, Marlon Brando said ‘kike’ once.”

I should say that this whole time I was in therapy but my therapist wasn’t…great, because when I described my anxiety she just said, “Hmm, you’re very complicated.” Cool. Thanks, lady! The best therapist I had during this time was actually my voice teacher. He was a chill opera singer from the South who said, “My mama always compared bad thoughts to a bird in a barn. If a bird flies into the barn, you can acknowledge that there’s a bird in the barn, but you don’t have to suddenly make a nest for it. Just let the bird fly in and it’ll eventually fly out.” Which is, in essence, cognitive behavioral therapy.

And, as I always say, when the fear of death falls in love with spite, the two of them make a beautiful baby named ambition.

I’ve always been, I guess the word is “spunky,” enough to know that I should stand up for myself. You know, get it girl, Aries is a fire sign, werk bitch, all that. But I’ve always been bad at translating the urge to fight back into a coherent takedown of my enemies. Aka, I’m terrible at rap battles.

Being honest disarms people. We are poorly trained on how to be open and vulnerable with even our closest friends, let alone our enemies. So when you lay yourself bare to another person, it shows them your mutual humanity and can soften them. This tactic has freed me to stop seeing my own vulnerability as weakness.