Why My Experiences Never Feel Spectacular — And Finding Normalcy In New Realms

I would've never imagined I'd go through what I have. I experienced what were terrifying unknowns, yet it's reality now. It feels surreal, but it also just feels... normal. Was that all there was to it?

Doing The Unthinkable

I've had the busiest week ever. As I write this, I have carpal tunnel from typing and writing code too much. My arms feel weak and like tingly jelly, and I have some pain in my hands.

I shouldn't even be writing right now, but I am. I have some wrist braces that look cool and should help. The progress I've made has me quite pumped.

First, I had the opportunity to review resumes and onboard a few new volunteers to the app project I've been working alone on for 5 months. The last 10% has been slow, but it's getting there.

Reaching out to people via email, interfacing with admin and the founder, and more. It feels like I've become part of the organization as if I'm an employee.

I feel kinda giddy getting CC'd for stuff like - "*cheeky internal laugh* I feel important." The kind of energy that makes me want to spin around in a swivel chair.

On another note, I decided to join another organization the day after 7/13's events. I was looking for more opportunities to contribute, but hearing the news made me reconsider the causes I was interested in and locked in a decision for me.

This year is freakin' nuts, to say the least, and today's news on 7/21 was another plot twist in this saga.

But anyway, this made the third organization I've volunteered for, after finishing a short assignment with a second in parallel with continued work with the first (what a trifecta).

The code quality standards seem higher. I didn't know much if anything about the languages and codebase. And I wasn't alone – there were multiple other contributors.

I was terrified my work would be laughably bad in comparison. The panic set in whenever I got stuck for more than 4 seconds. Surely, there was no way I'd understand anything.

What the hell was I thinking, believing I could contribute to such a project? Everyone else seemed so much more knowledgable.

Nevertheless, I picked an issue I thought I could do. A simple edit to an existing component. 7 hours after the first onboarding meeting, I submitted my work with glowing remarks from the CEO – just some specs had changed.

I was so high on chair-spinning energy.

After a night's rest and more feedback, my first issue was merged within 25 hours of starting. I was offered to take on higher-level tasks to write issue specs derived from the mockups that only developers could work on.

That was day 2. I feel great about this.

The work I've done recently would've been mythology to me before. Working with higher-ups and leading developers sounded terrifying. When I hear the term "leader," it conveys strength and discipline. Even more so with "founder" and "CEO."

How could I come in proximity to that, when my entire life story has been about introversion and inability to speak?

But reality is often more nuanced, and I've learned in these past 16 months – it hardly ever matches the assumptions and words I've associated with these scenarios.

There's no longer an imposing, intimidating vibe as I imagined. Nor was there cold and curt dialogue, with a no-bogus tone. I viewed speaking as a high honor I was unworthy of, having put the role on a pedestal.

I've done it now, and my conservations don't feel different than with any other person – because higher-ups aren't only defined by a role, they're people too.

Like with anyone else, I'm partaking in a cordial conversation to move forward with a goal.

"Hello, I need this dependency to continue, would you be able to provide it? Kind regards, Justin."

"ok"

The same goes for "leading a team." Technically, I've started doing that. I've become that bold person I envisioned before, like a commander going to war. "Leader."

Well, it doesn't feel that remarkable now that I've done it. I delegated tasks, but I've already done that – I just never put them in a Kanban board until now. I'm helping others with problems, but I also solved them when I was alone.

I was persuaded achievement solely relied on self-perseverance and ability, and lack thereof resulted from the opposite. I wasn't managing people myself because I didn't have the "traits."

Those were the notions ingrained in me for every shortcoming and failure, especially during my extended unemployment – I just hadn't done enough.

But now I've done those unimaginable things. Was it hard work, perseverance, and simply being better in this global death match to one-up each other?

Certainly doesn't feel so.

Really, the only reason I'm able to lead a team is because... I was given a chance to lead a team. Never did it before.

I offered to build a project myself – as the need had been vacant for ages. And because that volunteer role was coincidentally open, I could work on it. Then I was provided resumes, and the rest happened.

It's not like anything fundamentally changed about myself. My situation just changed. I mean, it's just a fact that I can't lead a team if I don't have a team to lead. I can't take on more responsibilities if there's no role available.

Volunteerism sounds charitable, but I only started working pro bono because I couldn't secure a job. The only reason I'm not dead is because I was born into a financially secure life.

And even that hasn't prevented suicidal ideation and multiple instances of self-harm.

I don't consider myself more altruistic – I dislike comparative metrics anyway. Rather, my circumstances allow me to contribute to meaningful causes, coincidentally cultivating good too.

I've developed more confidence in my ability, even if cultivated from luck. My track record seems good so far. Yet it feels strangely inconsequential compared to the mythical tales.

Massive progress now takes less effort than when I was stuck in a rut. I know what I can do in the right environment – hell, I even have superficial braggarty stats to back it up (wow, a 500% increase!).

I no longer think I have an inherent deficiency, rather my circumstances disallowed me from realizing my potential. My efforts may never be enough to get a job, but that won't stop me from working anyway. I've wasted enough time with their games.

While I don't underestimate the importance of finding pay – for now, I work with people who want to be where they are, on projects I believe contribute to positive change rather than destroy for profit, and where I can actually get things done.

I utilize that privilege without shame. But I won't believe my proudest achievements are due to higher inherent ability, effort, or altruism – nor the makings of an exclusive elite club.

One reality away, I'd likely be buried 6 feet under.

Phasing Through The Wall

Speaking of other sides, my search for an additional volunteer role was extensive before July. It's as difficult as a "real" job search – I only felt comfortable with a few postings out of hundreds.

After years of conceding only to get kicked down more, I've become more selective of where I'd want to work – pro bono or not.

Basically, I'm having a cheesy, defensive "know your ~worth~ " phase, except not really, because I don't believe in being defined by arbitrary metrics of my "utility."

Philosophical jargon aside, I am standing up for myself. I'd only want to work in a challenging and constructive environment, not interrogative and "gotcha"-seeking.

One that cared for me as a human being – or even had damn basic respect.

No mental games or puzzles, gotchas, or buzzwords. A place that created meaningful impact and got work done.

An environment I'd work with. Not for.

I thought on what organizations I felt comfortable with having on my resume. I noticed the pattern – institutional and established-sounding names.

"The X Society" or "The Center For Y Activities." They sounded professional and clear – I could tell exactly what they stood for, and the likelihood of hearing talk of "wizards" and "savvy hacky codey" seemed minimal.

I compare that to "TechnoBiz AI," where all my traumas return upon hearing the name. I imagine smug demeanment and pedantry as I've encountered countless times before.

I can't judge a book by its cover, but I cannot dispute that one name sounds more likely to be professional and work on problems I find meaningful.

So I set my boundaries in stone. I mitigate my risk. I only felt comfortable with professional-sounding societies, organizations, etc.

Which meant no buzzwords. Certainly no number in the name. And no names without spacing too, like BigCompany.

I felt those names generated strong aversion and a sense of edgy unprofessionalism – and it was unimaginable how I could feel otherwise.

At least until a few weeks later, when I joined org number 3.

I've grown an institutional perception of it still. It's not that bad sounding to be fair, but it has the same word fragments merged I said I wouldn't consider highly.

My horizons expanded to consider other opportunities in a new light. While I still will shy away from excitement for "HackyCode LLC" – the wave of repulsion I feel toward certain names may continue to subside.

This has been a trend for me. I've kept experiencing new things and realizing the other side was hardly unthinkable. I now adapt to these unchartered waters almost immediately.

I've noticed this. I've only written with some of my penpals for a few months, but it's like I've known them longer.

Within a few hours of starting on my first task at the new organization, I felt settled in. I could speak with new people despite nerves.

It's only been 2 weeks total.

I was hard set on many things years ago. Everything was in absolutes. I would never do this, never do that – and I couldn't imagine what the other side was like.

I couldn't imagine bouncing back from minor hiccups so quickly, and not only not fail – but succeed. I only knew a world where every mistake was eternal. I was a foreign entity everywhere.

That was my normal. This is my new one.

I keep saying that I feel no different than before. But I think I've realized I do. I feel an inner furnace alight within me. A glowing warmth and contentedness.

It's certainly different to the hell I faced not long ago. Yet I still feel like me. I still act like me, and think like me. I live my present.

Perhaps I'm feeling the derivative – my rate of change remains a constant, therefore unobservable line. I admit I've changed, but only comparatively to a past phantom of myself.

My train of vitality may be speeding along now, but I only feel it when it brakes or accelerates. I look out the window after not having looked in a while, and only then do I realize I'm in a whole new region.

It's changed but... I didn't get to see it.

It's just when I try now – things work out. Before, I would spend every hour in agony. I'd force myself in front of the screen, and have nothing to show for months.

The day before writing this sentence, I spent 10 hours on projects. And not just staring at a blank screen – but making tangible progress.

There was no increase in effort – if anything there was a decrease.
I don't even feel like I'm trying.

I wondered how people woke up so early and got things done. It sounded like an amazing feat. Yet I've been awake and working on tasks at 4-5 a.m. multiple times in the past month – because I couldn't sleep.

I did this yesterday and still felt that energized glow. Part of it's probably since I started sleeping before 10:30. Vitamin D3 supplements have also likely restored my energy.

But really... I just rise and work when I feel able.

My natural waking time has somehow shifted to 4-7 AM, and my energy lasts for 8+ hours, when before I was critically fatigued just waking up, and 1 hour was a good day.

I just did what was intuitive in both cases. It's confusing.

The pedestalized utopias on the other side weren't as unfathomable as thought, but the chasm of the unknown has permeated many attributes of my experiences.

Unhelpful habits felt normal, and any deviation from them was an unthinkable unknown. In music, I was hard set on an online tip to put all frequencies below 200hz in mono for almost 3 years.

Every single mix I frustrated myself to hell wondering why the sound hurt. I've finally learned this was an issue and the true safe zone was below 80hz. I should've mono'ed on a per-instrument basis too – not the whole master channel.

I never tried to layer instruments when my compositions sounded thin either. I knew I should have but couldn't be bothered, so I added more sounds with different notes. My result was a crowded confusion of sound.

These tiny changes got me past a multi-year long, and perhaps stupid impasse in my progress. I lacked the energy to rock my boat as I was so accustomed to my normalcy.

My mistakes continued perpetually, sinking my vessel instead.

The other side wasn't some technical wizardry or magic talents. It was a series of simple decisions that I made. I couldn't make them for so long. I thought about it, but never executed – I was locked in.

These cases demonstrate how important I make the plunge, even if they break convention or deviate from my societal or personal norm.

Morally speaking – I felt ashamed for having valid thoughts, and okay with genuinely detrimental ones. My feelings of pride or guilt were the same – the subjects just moved from one bucket to another.

Preferences, likes, and dislikes were similar. I always avoided shrimp dumplings or bell peppers – eating frog legs sounded especially bizarre. However, consuming the carcasses of chickens and cows was normal.

By the way – frog meat's like slightly denser fish. Chicken-fish is new, but not an out-of-this-world concept. I also can't help but imagine my steak pulsating sometimes, as if it were alive.

It's not enough to make me not eat it, but viewing consumption from this other angle is strange. The normal life as a sentient organism can sound quite abnormal in this light.

I played video games fanatically and thought it strange to be someone who didn't do that or use social media. Now, I am that person, and contributing to volunteer software work is my new pastime.

Take that same focus and immersion I had with fictional universes. Then replace the quests with software features and the in-game chat with technical discussions. The accomplishment I feel is no different – plus I benefit actual causes.

Freedom From The Othering

I found it hard to consider alternate perspectives and realities before, partly in rebellion to coercion on my thinking, and partly due to having experienced less. But I've seen how society itself alienates too – it's likes to label and categorize.

In school, my thoughts were conformed by grades and peer pressure. In traditional and social media, widespread "othering" accentuated my perception of differences across multiple dimensions.

Locations, mindsets, circumstances.
Attributes of life were presented as quirks. How quaint.

I couldn't imagine living anywhere out of state. Hell, before I had an interview for a job in the Midwest, I knew nothing about other states in my own country.

I somehow never considered there were skyscrapers in places other than New York, so it was whiplash to Google even well-known cities for the first time and see... urban development.

I obviously knew it was a huge city but it never hit me until I saw the photos – it never conjured the same imagery.

One can imagine what notions I may have had about other countries, when I was already surprised about places like Chicago. Though based on conversations I've had, it's not that uncommon to have had phases with embarrassing notions.

I've been in a bubble for most of my life, only hearing snippets of information through sensationalized and divisive mediums. I haven't seen the world, and as a loner growing up in the Isolated Digital Age, I hadn't met many people.

I suppose before the internet, it was normal to only immerse in one's immediate surroundings. Heck, self-centrism is human nature, and it's hard to avoid falling into it when one faces so many individual problems.

Contrary to my expectations, the web can exacerbate this rather than mitigate it. It's as if one can funnel themselves into their own reality – often without even intending to.

The hell of unemployment only isolated me further. But my first dive into volunteering got my ball rolling. The failed interviews were more introductions to different people – some pleasant, many not.

I eventually got used to less-than-accommodating situations and unfavorable outcomes. They felt bad, but not as much, and the recovery time was shorter.

How could I be a cool, collected person unphased by anything, like a Hollywood character in a movie? I was convinced that not caring was a binary switch – a choice I could make.

Again, my feelings are the same, but the scenarios causing each differ. I take the same indifference from staring at a wall and replace it with an uncaring conversation.

The pit in my stomach doesn't rise as much – not because I control it, but as a natural reaction molded from the events I've had to survive through.

I believed if I was treated unwell, it was deserved as a reflection of my shortcomings. It's become apparent this is not true – I've had meaningless negative thoughts too.

I've also experienced harboring unfavorable sentiment justifiably. I never want to – but I'm irked when I endure the pain of being ghosted for 2 months after 4 interviews over multiple months, and right when I'm getting over it I get a generic rejection email to double whammy me.

I'm annoyed when I reserve tasks I could finish in 30 minutes for a newcomer who wants to gain experience, only for them to disappear without communication, never start on them, and set back progress by weeks.

Yet what happens to these folks, or should happen to them, when I have this negative perception?

I'd say the same that happens when I'm disliked – nothing.
I know both sides now. It's nothing to do with them or me.

A World Within Reach

I can't say when this happened, but one day, I realized the "othering" perception ingrained in me was gone. The stereotypes and associations hammered in over an accumulated youth had disconnected.

It wasn't only hobbies and habits. I looked at the view from a place across the world. Despite never setting foot there, and not understanding the language, I felt this familiarity and comfort – the feeling of home.

I was free.

Before, there was no way I could live elsewhere and venture out. Surely, I would fail to adapt, and make an egregious mistake. I wouldn't know the customs or way of life – where to go or what to do, and I'd be gazed down upon for my shameful ignorance.

This new angle has given me the confidence to expand my horizons again. I'm realizing the core loop of life remains the same anywhere. Live in a box with furniture. Do some work. Go to a store that sells stuff I need to survive. Maybe see an event every month or so.

What's okay and not okay will be different, as will interactions. But that's the case everywhere – within countries, provinces, offices, or any group of people larger than 1.

There is no template for me to follow in any case.

Despite being hundreds of miles from my house on a trip, I hardly felt I was in "another" place as I did before. I experience that at-home normalcy anywhere now. There isn't a chasm dividing my experience from another.

No amount of contradiction via media and proxy narratives will change that, because I've finally found ways to break isolation from the world by my means.

I've connected with individuals for who they are – not what they're externally defined as. I've received the same treatment in return.

I've even become more aware of the "quirks" of my own life. Facets of living in the U.S. felt normal, so I didn't think much of it. Now I notice the flags stuck on residences and the air of nationalism. It feels like I'm in a 1970s movie scene with a sepia filter, and the cars that go "meep meep."

Fourth of July celebrations, county fairs selling deep-fried butter sticks. Loud monster trucks and jets roaring around... and the imperial measurement system. I even became hella self-conscious about the Californianness of my speech.

A lot now feels distinctly American. But there's so much more to my life as well.

If I journey out into the world one day, it won't be in search of a "different" experience, but the exploration of another normal. But even if that experience is normal, it doesn't mean it isn't spectacular.

A house is just a shelter. But I've discovered Earth is my home.

A Spectacular Experience

High achievements through discipline and strength towered above me. Alternate avenues were absurd or too difficult to consider. Ways of life seemed distanced by lightyears.

Spectacularity was in the eye of the beholder. I never felt my efforts or work was enough. I never did anything special or tried hard enough. Yet the daunting obstacles are now past and fruit has borne. I've found new appreciation through the eyes of others' perspectives.

This is a life I've taken for granted – existence itself is a remarkable story. The tale of history woven as we speak – namely the perils of social media and digitization, and the effects on psyches beyond the trends.

I was convinced this experience was meaningless compared to the pristine pillars of history. I encountered no real struggles – there was no grand story. That was not true.

If I've learned anything from these past years, it's how far a normal experience can take me.

I will never again underestimate mine.