Todays thought? "Am I going crazy?"
"Crazy people don't think they're crazy." I remember hearing a character in a movie say this once. Up until now I thought the sentiment brilliant and quite comforting ; I have often questioned my mental status. But, in fact, that thought is quite illogical. Even now it appears trite and un-weighty! I'm sure that many crazy people are very much aware of their delirium. So maybe I AM crazy.
What brings this to mind you wonder? What has caused my preoccupation with mental instability? To be completely candid, since April I have been wading through the very muddled world of depression. I say "wading" because it very rarely feels like walking. More often than not, like shuffling, knee-deep through muck, and as I have journeyed through my current disposition I have also been experiencing an array of physical ailments that in conjunction with my depression make my day-to-day doings...exhausting. I'll spare you the details, as some are far from appetizing and, might I add, WebMD has been far from helpful. In fact, the only thing I'm sure of now, after months of independent research, is that it has produced innumerable hypochondriacs who believe they suffer from everything to Hypothyroidism to Rheumatoid Arthritis. Perhaps even a mutant disease derived from both! As this has been my experience.
A current thread of thought has interwoven itself into my psyche. That perhaps this despressive state has been of my own doing. My life, truly, hasn't been that horrible. I wasn't sold to a slave trader at twelve, my father didn't burn up in a house fire and my mother didn't leave me. My life, I have thought, has been quite devoid of the tragic, but then my grandfather died and suddenly I found myself crying all the time. Not just about my grandfather but about other things. Past things. Things I committed to forgetting long ago. The accepted occurrences of my past suddenly appeared unacceptable and all that is crazy, yes? Why should the things that have been okay with me for all these years suddenly become not okay? I must be crazy.
However, there is another thought. Perhaps I am not insane but simply, awakened. Awakened to every hurt and injury that I have repressed for so long. That all of me is moving through that pain. Even my bones are aching with the realization. In this option, there is no immediate relief to be found. No pill or prescription. Simply, a process. A process where I am being taken to the end of me, in all of my derelict grander.
So no. Perhaps I'm not crazy. Perhaps, I'm just like everybody else.