Insanity is my armor…
6 minutes
Friends,
Identity.
It’s the cumulation of years walking (or crawling) this earth to a singular point in time.
It is the sum of everything you have been sprinkled with a coating of who you want to be.
But what happens when there are parts of you that are not allowed to be added to the equation? Does that make your identity lesser? Incomplete?
Are you not who you portray yourself to be?
It’s a ride.Let me back this hypothetical question up and explain why my mind is circling.
In the world of writers, artists, and intellectuals- insanity is a common infliction. Which, in my case, as a bonafide, medically documented, and currently medicated member of the community- it makes me feel a part of the cool kid club.
With a lifetime membership!
Insanity, or ‘mental health issues’ for the politically correct, comes with a set of problems that can cause some minor issues in everyday life.
For example, my brain doesn’t always fire on the right cylinders. Sometimes, it acts more like an old Harley engine that is backfiring while driving down the highway at 130 mph.
We might be getting to our final destination- but it’s not going to be a smooth ride, and we are going to scare the crap out of everyone else on the road.
Thoughts vs. RealityWhen my brain has decided that it’s going to go down the Alice in Wonderland tunnel of misguided adventures, it’s one hell of a ride.
It usually starts when I am in a good spot in my writing. When the world I am creating on paper has become so intertwined with my imagination that I can’t see the reality of life within the realm of make-believe.
I know this about myself.
But I can’t cut the thrones from the rose, if you know what I mean. If someone were to tell me that my world didn’t exist or the voices were not real- I wouldn’t be able to function.
Explosions of wordsThere is so much about my life that I am not allowed to talk about. Parts of me that are hush-hush. ‘Don’t say this; don’t do that’ has been said to me so many times that I find myself unable to know my left and right limits.
And take it from a crazy person—if we can’t get the thoughts out, they bubble like an underwater volcano waiting for some kind of release.
That’s why my writing is so important. I can take the parts of me that are not socially acceptable and twist them into stories where insanity is welcomed.
Functional vs. improbableInsanity. To me, it’s such a beautiful word. I am not talking about the scary kind of insanity that leads to Netflix documentaries and studies on the criminal mind.
I’m talking about my insanity. The type that is encouraged not to be talked about unless it’s in the compounds of a white padded room and chocolate pudding is served with lunch.
The kind where I talk to people in my head.
I like to call my insanity fully functional. I go grocery shopping, work a 40-hour job, engage with my family, and even remember to get the laundry done once in a while.
But when the claws of shadows dig into my life, it becomes harder to concentrate and to conceal my shadowy friends.
Hiding my truthHow did I use to hide these moments? Easy—I talked about other things. I focused on reality vs. the mythical: politics, religion, government, my day job, my time in the military, research, and family drama.
Anything and everything that would trick my mind to focus on the ‘now.’
It’s a maneuver I learned in the military. The problem is that sometimes, it takes a moment for the left side of the brain to figure out what the right side is doing. Thoughts get jumbled, and I am confused. Words don’t always come out right- the washing machine becomes the refrigerator. A mower becomes a push broom.
And I am sure in hell not quick enough to understand jokes.
It is a defense mechanism. I think my shrink would have been proud if I ever had the nerve to tell her. But, recently, my defense mechanism has become socially unacceptable.
Don’t talk about that…I know the strong suggestions of what not to say are explained in good faith. I know I am being ‘looked out for.’
But what it does is lock me in a dark closet with no escape. I can’t function in reality if I am not allowed to talk about reality. Why bother paying attention to ‘today’ if today is forgettable? Why concentrate on the people around me if I have boundaries on what I am and am not allowed to be?
It’s like sitting on the outskirts of a party and not being a part of the group. I can hear what is being said. I know the jest of the conversations.
But I can’t function because it’s silent. I can’t interact because I don’t know how to contribute.
I don’t understand how to be part of the group because my brain doesn’t fire the way theirs does.
A chink forms in my imaginary armor.
Final thoughtsInsanity works on a different level for me, as it does for all people who ‘suffer’ from a form of what I do. In my case, the only way my shadows disappear and reality becomes center stage is if I am challenged mentally to be present in reality.
I think that everyone who falls into the category of some form of insanity has a trick up their sleeve. This just happens to be mine.
Why am I telling the whole world? I’m glad you asked. For too long, it’s been socially unacceptable for people like me, who function on a different playing field, to be open and honest about their daily lives.
The idea of a padded room has been hanging over my head for too long. Talking about it, working out for myself if this is a byproduct of my genetics or a condition that developed from my time in the military allows me to find the reality in my shadows.
Since I can’t talk about it in polite company without someone wanting to call the mental hospital- I decided to write about it. Maybe there is a person out there who has shadows and needs to know they are not alone.
Final, Final thoughtsHi! My name is Rose. I am an author, historian, and mother. And I have imaginary friends.
I’m here if you need to talk.
Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.
From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.
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