Hey! I Just Met You, So Call Me Crazy

     Ever since I was young, I have felt different. Not because I was secretly queer, nor because I was the only woman of color in my classes, although both those factors contributed to my isolation. I felt different, because of how my brain worked. I overanalyzed situations constantly. I always felt like I was a character, in some sort of massive game. Like I was being controlled, and the things that were happening to me were some kind of divine intentionality. I was always extremely self-aware, to a point of concern. I always felt overwhelmed by everything, never able to choose isolated things to focus on. I never found it particularly easy to befriend people, because I genuinely do not understand what they could like about me, or what they would gain from being my friend. I realized recently that I have a hard time opening up to people, and am slow to trust and form close bonds. That is why so many of my friendships from when I was young seemed so surface-level to me, even if the other party felt like we were close. It explains why now, my circle is incredibly small, and I no longer bother with trivial friendships. It feels like a waste of time to me, and besides, what if no one likes me when they discover how I truly am? I am unsure if I can handle that kind of heartbreak. 

    I say all this, to explain why I constantly label myself as crazy. In it's pure definition, crazy means mentally deranged. That is honestly how I identify and perceive myself. I am an unhinged person, who is not mentally sound in any way, shape, or form. My mind is constantly swirling with different anxieties, intrusive thoughts, and other unmentionable horrors. I wonder, how do I manage to appear so...calm? Am I some kind of monster? How can I deceive people with such ease? What does that make me? I have to be crazy. Why else would I have such horrific thoughts, yet exhibit such a composed demeanor? Or perhaps I do not.....perhaps that is just another way my brain is lying to itself. I so desperately want to seem normal, that my brain creating falsehoods about my behavior in order to protect me from the reality: I am a freak, and everyone around me thinks so.

     Who can truly know. Not I. All I can do, is try my absolute hardest to convince the people around me that I'm not crazy. Especially those I have just met! I can't embarrass my family, my friends or myself. That's the truth, isn't it. I am embarrassed of myself. I exhaust myself. If I cannot even stand myself, how can I expect others to? I have to try my best to find peace with my craziness, or else I am in for a long and painful life. 

    But what happens when I fail? When even my efforts to act normal, to not worry or freak out the people in my life, don't work out? I will be left broken. I AM broken. My biggest goal in this life is to try and be a decent, kind person, who can be trusted. When I fail to do that, what am I left with? A fragile, crazy, shell of a person who once resembled who I wanted to be. 

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    I realized something recently. I may be crazy, but I am also an incredibly boring individual. I don't feel the need to go out often. I don't love drinking or smoking. I do not feel any desire to indulge in substances. I enjoy my solitude, and honestly prefer it most of the time. I like to read, and write. I love to watch videos and shows. I am not particularly interesting, or unique. I do not have any new insight on things, I do not have any exceptional intellect. I bring no new theories or ideas to things. I do not stand out in my schooling, or my work experience. I live a quiet, uninteresting life for the most part. A life fit for a boring individual. A crazy, yet boring human. It is such an interesting intersection. You would think a person as mentally deranged as I would be fascinating, but that simply isn't the case. I am wholly boring. And you know what? I am okay with that. There are a lot of things that I hate about myself, but being boring isn't one of them. I think that I deserve to be boring. I enjoy it. I want a simple life. I am not compelled to be anything but.. If those in my life feel the need to force me into an active life, perhaps we are simply not compatible. Being boring is one thing about myself that I have no desire to change.

    The one thing that isn't uninteresting about me, is, of course, my brain. The organ that creates the crazy. My intrusive thoughts, my intense insecurities, my hyperactivity and anxiety. There is so much going on up there, I am surprised I am able to function on a daily basis. Well, mostly function. I definitely have my moments, when it all becomes too much. In those moments, I tend to either shut down, or break down. Two completely different reactions, with similar intensity. During a shutdown, I need isolation and quiet. I do not speak, I usually will just sit or lay down, doing nothing but listening to music and crying. A breakdown, on the other hand, involves screaming crying, and sometimes self harm. These are more similar to a traditional tantrum. It takes a lot for me to reach the level of a shutdown or breakdown reaction, yet they are still and unfortunate side effect of being me. 

    One day, I hope to not be ashamed of my craziness. I hope to learn how to manage and live with it. I know it's not going away. Not easily, at least. So the best I can do is work with it. and learn from it. Hopefully one day I won't perceive myself as this massive villain, and instead as a mentally ill person who desperately needs support. We'll see. 

    I am sorry if this post seemed too intense or personal. But I needed a place to let out my thoughts, and as we know, this is the place to do it. Thank you for reading. I'll see y'all soon. 

XOXO

- Rach