“Just call me crazy
Insane and deranged it don’t matter to me
Call it what you want to I don’t care
And it doesn’t make a difference long as he’s there..
Just call me crazy
If loving you is crazy, crazys what I’ll be..”
At what point does one decide that they’ve lost the plot? Does it come from wondering if you actually are crazy, or is it the label others give you that somewhere along the line begins to stick? I once thought I was in the head.. People started commenting that I was, from that I began to over think about it. The thinking made it real. I turned myself away from sanity.
Crazy.. Its a fragile notion. It can be whirled up from practically nothing. All it takes is one person who knows you to question your mind, and its all up to where you go from there. I went down. ‘Crazy?!’ I thought. ‘Maybe they’re right.. I mean, I can’t sleep. I over think and analyse and scrutinise and attack myself. I’m definitely not like other people.’ And thats all it took. For a good 4-5 months I was off with the fairies.
The funniest thing is, as quick as the ‘crazy’ came about, it left with the same haste. I woke up one day and said, ‘Wait a minute.. Crazy? I’m not crazy. Nothing bad is even happening to me! Why should I be crazy? I’m perfectly fine.’ And just like that, it was gone. I controlled it. I drove myself there, and when I was finished I drove myself back home. I didn’t even need to be there.. I wasn’t invited. When I rocked up, the place was full of freaks and to be honest, they probably didn’t want me there. I didn’t belong and didn’t want to.
When I was studying literature we read Orestes. I’m sure the whole thing was magical and enlightening but only one line stuck in my mind, and probably because it summed up what was going on in my head at the time. At one point in what I’m sure was a long monologue he muses (they always muse, or ponder.. they never just say it):
“There is no form of anguish with a name — no suffering, no fate, no fall inflicted by heaven, however terrible — whose tortures human nature could not bear.”
There it was. In my head the whole time, I had the cure. I couldn’t name my own torture because there was none. It works better in reverse though, like in any of those rehab programs. The first thing is admitting what the trauma is. And your own anxiety, you know when you sit there stressing all day for no apparent reason? When you pinpoint it in your mind, it lessens. It goes away, because if you’ve found the problem you are almost automatically faced with a solution.
It also makes me think of all those emo kids, and practically any adolescent who is unsure where they fit in the big scheme of life. Which category am I in? Am I the sporty type, the drug lord, the nerd or the beauty queen? They can’t pick it, and it does their poor little heads in. I remember it, I was there too.. What am I? Or better yet, why am I?
Humans are a resilient bunch, even when we’re heart broken or grieving the most tragic loss. All we want to do is lay down and stay down. But we push through instead. Its always surprised me the amount of times I’ve fallen down and managed to pull myself back together. Theres no formula, it happens naturally.
I wish I could say I had some amazing advice for those who wander into insanity accidentally.. In reality all I have is the most basic and probably annoying sentiment to someone facing the same position. Despite the pull for introspection, step outside of it. The brain is a mess, it will confuse you to try and grasp the maze of thoughts its always going to put you through. Mine goes so fast I can barely catch up with it. But when I remind myself to chill everything slows down and seems ok.
And thats all it takes.
“What you wanna say?
I’ll wait til you get home..
Sick of communicating over the telephone
Tell me how you feel
For I am lonely too
Need you to know I’m just as cold and numb as you..”