sometimes i think i’m crazy. 

I know I'm not alone in this. I've heard my clients say it too. 

it’s quite possible this nagging thought is something all women share. a throwback to the ways we’ve been deemed hysterical, unreasonable, too emotional, inappropriate, intense… and too much more, so much more. it's some kind of coping mechanism for the split of virgin and whore, lover and bitch, queen and hag. 

we are so much more complex than can easily be defined. in a culture that likes neat boxes we just don’t fucking fit. but we try. 

we kill ourselves trying. trying to look good. trying to be nice. trying to please others. trying to get it right. trying to be successful. trying to say the right thing. trying to do the right thing. trying to make a difference. trying to stand up for what’s right. 

but we’re playing by rules that aren’t our own. we are pushing and prodding our bodies, minds and souls to go this way, do it like that all the while there is a whispering, a low rumble of growl, a fierce mama wolf trying to get out and say “no fucking way"

and this tension of play nice and fuck no is bringing on the crazy. 

add in the winter phase of the moon cycle and holy shit there is a reckoning going on, a serious showdown inside. i know i am not the only one who has been on this ride. 

Sometimes I think I might be crazy because my life does not look like most people my age.

Sometimes I think maybe crazy comes from how hungry my curiosity is and the insatiable desire to learn. 

Sometimes I think I’m crazy because I want what I want and yet I sabotage myself in big and little ways because I am afraid. 

Sometimes I think I’m crazy because crazy actually runs in my family. 

And yes I know crazy isn’t a “nice” word but to me it conjures up a feeling. It says out of control, out there, not fitting the mold… (maybe crazy  actually means wild? A quick online search of the etymology says the roots of crazy is in cracked, breaking apart, to shatter). 

Maybe the wild in us is cracking through the surface of lies, breaking us open, breaking us apart, so we can recover our wholeness.  

My father is schizophrenic so sometimes I have these nagging thoughts of am i crazy? that root into the fear and pain and loss of what i’ve seen & what i’ve felt first hand.

A life time of schizophrenia and studying psychology and I am no closer to making sense of what I've seen. But truth be told the quick online search of the word crazy and it’s roots just put it in perspective.

I don’t opt in for mental illness. There is something oppressive in that term, something that is not honoring the layers and trials of the person and their situation. In crazy i can see how my dad broke apart. His identity of charismatic-surfer-man-artist shattered and something else came forward. A mystic. A visionary. A wild man. 

We call it illness because we don't understand. We call it illness because not knowing is scary and we want to fix it. 

His world is confusing. There's no doubt about that. I don’t have a road map to that terrain, but sometimes when I am with him, tucked into the chaos I find glimmers of space. He holds a completely different reality but occasionally when I listen for long periods of time I think maybe he is the one who has it straight, while the rest of the world is running around mentally ill and calling it normal. 

i have a mentor who says that if you can ask your self “am i crazy?” it’s a sure sign you are not. 

sometimes i wonder if my father ever questions his state, if he ever thinks himself sick or very drastically not okay. i think he must know that something is not quite right, his paranoia speaks of the enemy which weaves into the tapestry of society, but ultimately is out to make him suffer. so in his own way he knows. but maybe he knows and simply accepts. maybe fighting against what is, is a futile mission. 

it makes me rethink these concepts of what we define as mental health and mental illness. there are so many every day people who do not consider that the affliction of their suffering lies within them. they resist it, project it outward, and never ask themselves the question am i crazy? as a catalyst for discovering what they truly need. they judge and play the victim waiting for something outside to change. 

but the question is, are we wiling to change? to crack open? to push through? to break our shell and see the world of self from a different view? are we willing to get messy?

am i crazy? means what is breaking open here? what else is wanting to be revealed? what wild part of me is wanting to come through? when we can listen to that inquiry and honor the trajectory of where it leads, we’ll find discovery. of ourselves

if we dare to walk down the path and meet our dark and wild we just might receive a gift of understanding that we are so much more than the small identities we construct and continue to sustain. am i crazy? is a call to crack open and meet the truth of who we are right now... wild & free, pained & suffering, all of it.  

i am fucking crazy. i am wild. untamed. I stretch the edges. and sometimes I want to scream WHAT THE FUCK. But I’m also steady and kind. I care. I show up. I figure it out. I fall and I rise. I fall and I rise. I fall and I rise. 

we are so much more than the tight tiny boxes we try to fit in. we are the whole universe. let the crazy crack you open and pour the vast miracle of you out.  We need you.