i really am okay.
smilin' as i type.
i've been doin' a lotta writing lately.
and i thought it would be interesting to write out what it feels like
when i feel crazy inside. so that's what this is.
i was hoping someone else might relate.
it's a reaching out to anyone else who feels crazy from time to time -
There was a certain feeling.
A one of a kind.
One that made her nerves jolt to attention.
It was like a beat of a frenzied dance.
As the drums got louder, her eyes got wider.
Her breathing changed.
And she knew crazy was coming to take her.
And it's never good.
Probably in the end it brought her to some better place.
But it didn't matter.
She didn't care.
Cause when the dance started,
that's all that could really be felt.
Even though she tried to let something else in.
She tried hard to see, feel, think, be - anything - but crazy.
She tried to concentrate on work.
Or her garden.
Yeah, she'd clean.
That would have to help.
Cleaning helped with the out of control feelings, didn't it?
Gave her some sense of order and power?
That was the theory.
Or so it was stated by those who hadn't had crazy come alive in their heads.
But when it rose to life,
it became life.
Even tho she'd fake it.
Whisper 'I love you' and 'yeah, I'm fine.'
All the while feeling any steady sense of solid ground whirling away from her.
Sometimes she'd try to reach out.
But not in any way that really gave a clue.
'I'm feeling a little out of sorts.' she'd say.
'Struggling with a few things' she might throw in.
While at the same time, she silently screamed to the heavens
to make the feelings stop, slow down the spinning,
give her something solid to hold on to.
She'd fall to her knees inside herself, throw her head back, shaking her tangled hair,
pleading for some sense of peace.
Only to be answered with more craze.
She'd try to fake herself out.
'I don't really feel crazy,' she'd tell herself.
“I really feel pretty much fine.'
'All will right itself in the morning.'
'Tomorrow's another day.'
And she'd fight back the tears of loneliness as she lied over and over
trying to calm herself down.
This is when every ghost came to haunt her,
and every doubt rose up to bond together and form her strongest beliefs.
This is when she reached for all the tools she had learned along the way
feebly pulling them out one by one as if she was a handyman working on the house
and getting the same results as if she really were a handyman working on her house.
Tools didn't fit, she couldn't remember which way loosened and which way tightened,
drill bits broke, nails bent, and circuit breakers blew.
And just when she was sure she wouldn't be able to hold out,
slowly...ever so slowly...
the drum beats would soften, the rhythm change.
Her body would come down from high alert.
The ghosts would grow quieter.
And she knew she'd make it through again.
Not sure how.
Not sure what combination of things brought it on
or what mixture made it leave.
Just knowing that for now, crazy was on its way out.