How Zelda Helped Me Navigate Growing Up and Define What Being “Normal” Means

In 1994, I was born 3 months early. Technology has come a long way to help save the lives of premature babies, but even now it’s considered something of a miracle. The fact that I’m alive today is something that still amazes me.

I’ve heard the stories countless times of how, during the months I was kept in the hospital, one of my lungs collapsed, and that my heart temporarily stopped. Doctors predicted I might be blind, deaf, or unable to walk. I had cysts in my brain that impacted my early development. As a child, I struggled to communicate with others, and in my frustration, would usually end up screaming at people. I needed occupational therapy to develop my nonexistent motor skills. I was held back a year and placed in a special education class because I was a slow learner. I got in trouble at school fairly regularly. Needless to say, the early years were challenging.

How the Zelda Series Comforted and Supported Me Throughout School

I was lucky to have some friends in the neighborhood growing up, but I spent most of my time watching my brother play video games. They very quickly became a source of comfort for me, a way to escape my upward battle to catch up and be normal. The first Zelda game I started playing was Ocarina of Time, but not for the linear, story-driven reasons. Initially, I played my brother’s file (sporting maxed hearts and equipment) and spent my time traversing Hyrule Field on horseback, sneaking past the guards to visit Princess Zelda, swimming in Zora’s Domain, and playing minigames in Castle Town. I loved the freedom to retreat into a world where I didn’t have to worry about being a well-adjusted, normal kid. No need to pretend or try to prove everyone wrong. I could just be myself for a little while.

As I got older, my ability to communicate effectively improved, as did my behavior. Academically speaking, I caught up and joined a regular classroom. Throughout elementary school and middle school, playing video games became a mainstay hobby. I obsessively sailed across the expansive ocean in The Wind Waker, played minigames in Clock Town while trying to forget about the Moon’s horrifying face in Majora’s Mask, and collected every Piece of Heart in Twilight Princess. Playing these games helped me feel more comfortable in my own skin, and since it was a hobby I shared with my brother and friends, it felt like I fit in.

I was relieved to be “normal” — until I needed math tutoring towards the end of middle school and into my freshman year of high school. Turned out that the whole slow learning thing persisted even after I “caught up” and I misunderstood some of basic math’s core components, which made learning the more advanced formulas nearly impossible without those basics. During that time, I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I knew I needed help, my grades reflected that. But I so desperately wanted to be perceived as normal and smart, and tutoring felt like the exact opposite of that.

So to ignore those thoughts and feelings, I played Twilight Princess again. Enough time had passed so I didn’t remember every puzzle, and it was rewarding to solve them again. I took my time playing on the second playthrough — didn’t collect everything again, but that was okay. Instead of dwelling on learning the math skills I should have already had, I could call upon the wisdom of the Hero’s Shade to learn new sword skills to devastate my enemies. It was a perfect distraction from the real world.

But I also realized something as I was playing it again, too. I had been ashamed for getting help, but why? Link always had the support of his companions and allies. There was no shame. He welcomed their support. By extension, I had welcomed their support, too. How was it different? It became really clear during the raid on Hyrule Castle when The Resistance joins in the fight. It’s normal to get help when you need it. We can’t do everything on our own, and it’s okay. After that, I didn’t resent going to my tutoring sessions anymore or feel embarrassed by it. There’s that cheesy line about “being the heroes in our own story” or whatever, and I liked to think that in my ultimate quest for NormalcyTM, I needed the support of wise math sages to get me there.

Zelda’s Vital Role in My Life Now and Forever

The rest of high school and college were smooth-sailing. I have a steady job now. So far, my adult life has been pretty uneventful. But the most uncertain thing about being born prematurely is not knowing how it will impact you throughout your life. There have been times when I’ve wondered how long it will be until something else comes up, some other revelation as a result of coming into the world too early. Sometimes, it’s made me wish things turned out differently.

I’ve wondered what my life might have looked like if I was born on time. The theories have changed over the years (turns out my circle of friends would have been the same since kids born in the fall start school later anyway, at least in Arizona), but the one thing that holds true in all of my theories is the joy I feel for the Zelda series. I can’t imagine my life without this franchise. In moments when I struggled, the series gave me an escape, more so than any other series I’ve played. If I didn’t have the experience of witnessing these epic stories unfold or becoming attached to the lovable characters, I think I would be a fundamentally different person.

I felt this the most strongly when I finally played Ocarina of Time properly, start-to-finish. I hadn’t realized how much I related to Link before, or at least, this specific iteration of him. Without a fairy, he was ostracized for something he didn’t have any control over. He was an outsider in Kokiri Forest, “abnormal” among his Kokiri friends because they said he was. But it was okay. I had felt the same way, but couldn’t quite pinpoint it when I was a kid. Everyone told me the circumstances of my birth weren’t normal and that I may have had challenges that I had to overcome that made me “abnormal,” but I realize now that it was okay.

After all, what does being “normal” even mean? I was always seeking it, but I didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know what I was looking for. Link didn’t become “normal” after gaining a fairy — he went on a quest to save the world, to selflessly put everyone else before himself, the most heroic thing a person can do! I’m not about to make myself sound analogous to a hero. But his life took him on a path he never could have imagined. My life will probably go on a path that I don’t expect, either, because life’s unpredictability is the norm. Being able to relate to Link’s quest and character on such a personal level helped me sort out many of my own feelings. I’ve never had that experience with any other game.

I used to hear the stories of my birth and think I had something to prove. “The doctors predicted I might be blind, deaf, mute, or mentally challenged, but I’m not any of those things! I proved them wrong!” But now I hear the stories for what they actually are. It’s not about proving people wrong. It’s about becoming the person you want to be. It’s inspiring. Growing up with the Zelda series helped me figure it out. Being “normal” doesn’t mean perfectly blending in with the crowd. The person I am now is an avid gamer who also loves all things anime, manga, movies, and books. A person who enjoys spending time with family and friends. A person who loves writing and the voice it gives me. It’s simple, but it’s my “normal,” and I couldn’t be more content.

Michaela El-Ters is an Associate Editor for Zelda Dungeon. The Zelda series is a beloved video game series, and she loves gushing over her ever-changing favorites. To read more of her thoughts on her favorite games, anime, and more, check out objectionnetwork.com.

Feature art by Ckrauser

Comments
Sorted Under: Editorials, Majora's Mask, Ocarina of Time, Original Content, The Legend of Zelda, The Wind Waker, Twilight Princess
Tagged With: No tags were found for this entry.