[Don't] Call Me Crazy: 33 Voices Start the Conversation about Mental Health

by Kelly Jensen

Because we define words, not people.

he’d delegitimized my argument and defined me by my depression. It wasn’t me speaking—it was my depression. It wasn’t me packing my bags—it was my depression. I wasn’t me. I was my depression.

Define words, not people. Define “depression,” but don’t define others by it. Because we are people and we defy definition.

I only wish someone had told me not that I was “crazy” but that I was sick, and there was a way to get better.

Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s dopamine.

A decade ago, I remember seeing the musical Next to Normal, which featured a bipolar character who undergoes electroshock therapy in a frightening and very dramatic scene. The rest of the show, as I recall it, is about her destroying her family and flinging herself around the stage. It was not easy to watch.

I have transmuted a story of fear and pain into a story of joy, strength, and love. I believe in every fiber of my being that everyone has the ability to do so if they believe in their own incredible power.

My suffering was not art. It was just suffering.

Hurtful words usually belong to those who haven’t yet healed from the pain inflicted by their own demons.

I am alive, and that matters.