Whole pieces

I have been thinking deep thoughts lately about what it means to be normal, and the line between self-acceptance and acceptance that oneself is in need of change. I have three examples for mulling:
1. When I had my puppy it seemed to draw out behaviours in me that made me feel weird. I found myself trying to maintain strict boundaries between myself and the dog, often having her either in her crate or her pen, for example, and washing everything she touched that wasn't nailed down. I was sure nobody else did this. I also felt very stressed by how damn needy she was, all the time. I did not like having another being depend on me like that, and I considered this a flaw in myself. I found myself wondering if my behaviour and thinking were normal or weird, to what extent I should honour my reactions and reduce my stress and to what extent I should suck it up and try to change to be more like what I assumed was normal. Since finding the puppy a new home, and finding myself more relaxed in my own company, I have heard from others who had the same reactions and I take that as evidence that I am at least not alone in my reactions. And I suppose that's really at the heart of it.
2.  I have been thinking about introversion and solitude, partly as it relates to my thesis research. Introversion seems to be the topic du jour, this being the most recent link to circulate on social media and this being a hot book in churchy circles. I read that John Piper considers his introversion a 'confession' and the result of brokenness. This is a shame (although I'm not really sure he, or possibly the writer, understand introversion properly as it's not really about 'not liking to be with people' as such). The push today, though, is to say that introverted person is not someone that is broken, that needs to be fixed, but should be accommodated in the church and society in general. People want to be able to say 'I am an introvert' (even though I think really it's a scale, but we don't like scales, we like binary...) and claim that as an identity. Which leads to point number three.
3. I was thinking about Bradley Manning, or Chelsea Manning as he would now like to be called. This is the US serviceman who leaked documents and was sentenced this week to 35 years in jail. But this isn't about that, this is about his decision to announce that he 'is a woman'. Stating this as he did, this now becomes an issue of claiming gender identity rather than an issue of mental health (although apparently he experienced mental health issues as a result of hiding it). It becomes then not really acceptable to call this a choice or to wonder about the connection between this and his reported foetal alcohol syndrome and how his apparently quite disastrous upbringing might have had an impact. I'm not saying it did or it didn't in his case, nor that it was or wasn't a 'choice' in his case. I'm just commenting on the fact that it is really only very recently that these background questions became largely inappropriate in cases like this, and that issues of gender identity are increasingly expected to be accepted and accommodated. And no bad thing. After all, belonging and acceptance are at the heart of love.
So now as well as the issue of what is 'normal' and what is the distinction between difference and damage, I can't help thinking also that there are drawbacks to any label. Why is it we are so quick to claim our labels and cling to them forever? Labels like 'introvert' or personality types or even our perception of our gender identity can become like horoscopes, delimiting our view of our own selves. Why are we so quick to want to jump in these boxes and close the lids rather than tipping all the contents on the floor and rummaging around? The former seems like a rather claustrophic identity. I suppose I want to keep my freedom, to accept both my sameness, my difference, my brokenness and my wholeness, thanks.