I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are

by Rachel Bloom

When you’re going through your first bout with a mental health issue and don’t know any better, the aloneness is the worst part. The feeling that what you have is undefinable, solitary, and it inevitably brings up the question: If I’m alone in this, what if I’m doing it to myself and does that mean I could stop if I really wanted to? Aloneness = weakness.

I learned that, as long as I was acting or singing or writing, I had to be present in the moment. I didn’t have the mental space to be anxious. As long as I kept my mind engaged, everything would be okay. Whatever those thoughts were, they were gone and never to return again in any other form.

The correct amount of being into Disneyland is the exact same amount that I am into Disneyland. If you are into Disneyland less than I am then you are an unimaginative cynic. If you are into Disneyland any more than I am, it’s like, I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR PIN COLLECTION, FREAK.

The repetitive thoughts continued because, if I thought about my thoughts long enough, I could “solve” The Bad. If I could figure out the reason it had come back, I might crack the code and it would go away.

And, as I always say, when the fear of death falls in love with spite, the two of them make a beautiful baby named ambition.