the crazy


I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. Maybe I thought that growing up would solve all of my problems, or perhaps I just believed that I would figure out how to fix everything by the time I grew up. Truth is, nothing has happened. I’m still crazy.

I think the worst part is that explaining this crazy is so damn difficult. It won’t fit into paragraphs. It won’t follow the rules of grammar. It’s messy and gritty and the kind of thing that most of us try to avoid.

But what if I tried to explain it anyway? What would it look like?

It would look like this:


I sit on the bathroom floor, holding my knees up to my chin, wishing to die. Do I have the courage to slice my wrists just one time each? Finally end this? I want to die. I beg to die.

I’m afraid to die. What if I have cancer? What if I’m dying? No, please. I have things I still want to do.

I want to die. I don’t want to.

I go years without slicing my body.

But then I throw the lamp against the wall, I see the shards of glass. The sweet temptation overpowers me. I close my eyes, hold my breath. I cut. Exhale. Somehow, I become clear.

I stop eating. I am losing weight and finally seeing something more than fat.

I eat everything in sight until I cause damage to my body. I am sick all of the time. I am getting fat.

Sometimes I take out the bottle of anti-depressants that I have been saving for a year, and think about taking them. I keep them by my coffee maker so that I have to face them every morning.

I take one. Then I put them back in the drawer.

I dream during the day about all of the things I will never be.

And at night, I have nightmares.

I love my husband.

I hate my husband.

I hate me. That never changes.

I want to be a mother.

Let’s put it off, I will only ruin the child’s life.

I want to write. I need to write.

I have nothing to say.

I want to travel the world.

I have a panic attack on the plane.

I don’t care what any of you think.

But I’ll hold my head down and be and do and say everything you want me to.

Please like me.

You laugh and I laugh because I talk to myself.

It started when I was little because I was so lonely and had no one else to talk to. It stuck. I still feel that way sometimes.

I am jealous all of the time.

I will never be her.

Or her.

Or her.

I am just me.

And that will never be enough.

I’m so shy, so quiet.

I’m obnoxiously loud, even in public.

The silence scares me.

The noise scares me.

I still feel fear when I think about high school.

Those girls still have power over me.

I spend every penny I have because for that second, I feel in control.

I have something tangible in my hands.

Then I lose my apartment because I can’t pay the rent.

Everything I say is with the utmost conviction.

And then I change my mind a second later.

I mean everything I say until I mean something else.

I am crazy.

Or maybe I’m not.

Maybe I just feel more than everyone else does.

And despite all of this, most of the time, I am okay.

I change.
I grow.
I shrink.

That is just my own personal brand of crazy.

What’s yours?


11 thoughts on “the crazy

    • Your posts tend to be hit and miss with me, but this was one of my favorites. Some made me sad, some made me laugh since I could relate to it. I’m so sorry you’re suffering and can’t find the right kind of treatment. But the moments that define life, that’s simply it, isn’t it? We all have our own brand of crazy. Feeling more than others is life’s moments magnified.

  1. My brand of crazy is constant self doubt. Did I do the right thing? Am I doing a good job? Do people like me?

    But despite that, I keep moving on. I might set myself back because I’m doubting a decision, but eventually I’ll move. It just seems to take longer for me than most people.

    I really enjoy your blog! Thanks for writing and sharing.

  2. Wow, great post and great for trying to explain it, but I think a lot of this is what we are all thinking subconsciously, just some of us are more aware of this constant train of thought than others..

  3. Apparently mine is a thing called co-dependency. My personal definition of it is: someone who’s nice, at times extra nice, mostly for the right reasons but often to an unhealthy level and then is secretly pissed off about it…lol. Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that and apparently there’s many different levels, etc. Either way, it’s an awesome start to know yourself. In my very humble opinion, everyone is touched by some type of “crazy” – just on occasion it comes out more like just being a jerk but it’s still not behavior everyone understands. I’d agree with the comment that you’re not crazy – you just feel more and at a more frequent pace. That’s it. Everyone has their hang ups – it’s just a lil’ different for us all. Keep on truckin’ 🙂

  4. As an old lady of 52, I will say that many feelings I had in my 20s have mellowed out quite a bit. Having kids shifted my focus to them instead of myself. In other words, things will get better. Be patient with yourself and certainly relegate high school to the past. The girls you feared probably had a lousy time back then as well…

  5. My crazy is so much like yours. It’s like there’s 2 people in you and you reach for what you need but then the other part of you comes out and won’t let you have it. The part that protected you and kept you company as a child now sabotages your adult life because it knows if it lets you live it will die, you don’t need it anymore but it won’t leave.It’s like how do you learn to live when all you know is how to survive. I was thinking about that the other day and I couldn’t think of an answer other than to just take it one day at a time but I’d rather it just suddenly be okay.
    Your not a monster, just a person doing the best with what they have.

  6. I think I am the type of person who finds so difficult to put words to feelings that reading yours is liberatings. So, thanks


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