Today one of my clients told me the story of Laurel. I never had the chance to know her–she died before I even heard her name–but I am certain I would have loved her. I heard only snippets of her story. She was in her prime during the days when mobsters drove hulking black sedans and gunned down whoever crossed them with less remorse than most of us have for clipping a robin in flight or mowing down a squirrel.

Laurel was the girlfriend of some powerful mobster whose name, or even domain, I didn’t learn, so I’ll call him Nick. Nick flaunted the gorgeous and sexy Laurel on his arm while she flaunted her bosom, her dark eyes, and her astonishingly red lips until the day that Nick decided his one true love had ratted on him. She may or may not have, but Nick was sure she did. Or at least sure enough to have her shot up and left for dead in some neglected alley.

But Laurel was made of tougher material than Nick suspected. She hung on until a Good Samaritan came along and took her to the hospital where she was patched up and sewn back together. Realizing that second chances don’t come by that often, Laurel ended her mob connection and got a new boyfriend, but she kept the spirit of the original Laurel for the rest of her days. Despite eye rolls and whispers and snorts from an unappreciative community, she told her mob stories, dressed in off-beat, gaudy outfits, and wore her astonishingly red lipstick on her wrinkled lips until the day she died, a few weeks ago at the age of 70-something.

I am entranced by people who dare to be original. With all their kits-and-caboodles of problems, their tattered and misshapen histories, they remain true to themselves through it all.  A light shines within those people. We should all have that courage to be ourselves. We should all shine with such light.

In the stage version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Cinderella, one of the songs has the following refrain: “Because these daft and dewy-eyed dopes keep dreaming up impossible hopes, impossible things are happening everyday.”

Here are three individuals who prove that Rodgers and Hammerstein knew what they were talking about. No–they’re not my clients (I don’t even know them. I wish I did.) but how can I not be awed and inspired by their examples? Perhaps you’ve seen their stories in the media.

First is Diana Nyad who, at age 64, set a world record by swimming from Cuba to Florida. The swim took 53 hours. 53 hours! Without a break. Without a shark cage. Without flippers. The whole idea was preposterous. She herself called it her “Xtreme Dream,” one she’d had for 35 years. She had tried and failed five previous times, but on September 2, 2013, she did it!

Then there is Ed Whitlock. In 2012, at age 80, he set a record, running the Toronto Marathon in 3 hours and 30 minutes. He’s 82 now and still tackling marathons even though the track hasn’t been without hurdles. He says, “I had a knee injury just after my 70th birthday and it took me two years to get back to where I was. That was a long tough struggle.” Hasn’t anyone told him he’s too old to even think of running a marathon?

Not to be forgotten is Olga Kotelko, a retired Canadian school teacher who, at age 93, was setting records in the Master Olympics in long-jumping and high-jumping. She’s 95 now and training for her next competition. Who ever heard of such a thing?

It’s a bit embarrassing to read about these accomplishments when I must admit that the closest I get to distance running is following my small dogs through the woods behind my home. And my most strenuous activity is stumbling into the house with four heavy grocery bags because I’m determined not to make a second trip “all the way back to the car” in my driveway. I doubt that either of those events will make me Olympic material, not that I have aspirations to become a record-breaking athlete. However, I did wonder what allowed these extraordinary people to dream up what seem like impossible goals, and then, against all odds,  meet them.

I delved into their secrets and gleaned these tidbits from their on-line interviews (although I encourage you to Google them and read or listen to the full articles): Olga Kotelko said, “I’m an optimist. I take the most hopeful view of matters.” Ed Whitlock said, “…we can still accomplish a lot if we keep active and stick with it.” Diane Nyad gave this advice, “We should never, ever give up. You are never too old to chase your dreams.”

It sounds like attitude and persistence are major factors in their successes. I would add a third factor. They don’t doubt themselves. They absolutely believe in their abilities and could “see” themselves accomplishing their goals. One of my graduate school professors once said, “You have to be able to imagine doing something in order to do it.” Do you have an “Xtreme Dream?” Whether it’s conquering trauma memories, overcoming phobias, mastering a new skill, or getting a college degree, if you truly believe you can do it, you can.

There’s a lot more to be said about these attributes and how they play out in our everyday experiences and we’ll explore that in a later post. In the meantime, here’s to all of us becoming “daft and dewy-eyed dopes” just like these amazing athletes.

Long before I began my graduate education, I happened to meet an LPN who worked in a hospital psychiatric unit. Since I was contemplating a career in psychology, I asked her what her job was like. She assured me that she found her work satisfying. After thinking a moment, she added, “The longer I work here, the more I realize that if I had faced the same problems that these patients have, I’d be exactly where they are.”

That conversation happened 25 years ago. I think of her and her insight often. She helped shape my understanding of mental health and the individuals who would come through my door.  We are, all of us, far more alike than we are different. Remembering that is a gift we give ourselves and those around us.

Karl Menninger once said, “The adjuration to be ‘normal’ seems shockingly repellant to me; I see neither hope nor comfort in sinking to that low level. I think it is ignorance that makes people think of abnormality only with horror and allows them to remain undismayed at the proximity of “normal” to average and mediocre. For surely anyone who achieves anything is, essentially, abnormal.”  US Psychiatrist (1893-1990).

This quote is for all of us who felt like square pegs, misfits, and fringe material at some point in our lives, especially in that microcosm of torment known as high school. It is the arena in which “fitting in” is most tantamount to survival, equaled only by the pressure to conform exerted by extreme fundamentalist groups and weirdly familial corporations. But, even after surviving high school, few of us dare to stand out from the crowd, to be labeled as different. We snuggle into the comfort of the familiar, the routine, and the expected. Yet, it is only by stepping away from the crowd that we have room to spread our wings and soar.

So–when is being different unique, and when is it an illness? Where is the dividing line? Sigmund Freud stated that mental and emotional health is the ability to work and love. Although he said many other things that are largely discounted, it is still reasonable to assume that a psychologically healthy individual is able to manage intimate relationships and to engage in productivity. If a person’s symptoms or behavior patterns interfere with those activities, then they have crossed the line into a disorder.

If a person washes his or her hands or straightens papers or sharpens pencils many times a day, but still manages to get to work and complete the necessary tasks, then it’s a behavior quirk that may appear odd but isn’t a disorder. If they spend so much time sharpening the pencils that they never get to the job they need them for, it’s a disorder.