And Then They Put Me In A Straitjacket

I have found that the more education I receive, the more I am convinced that I have a serious mental illness. Delusions of grandeur? Check. Panic attacks? Check. Constantly performing rituals that make no sense? Check. This must mean I have a hybrid of Schizophrenia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Obviously it is quite easy to become completely dysfunctional with this pattern of thinking.

Cut to this afternoon and picture this. Me, lying on the floor, bathing in my own tears, as I wail about my diagnoses to my mother. If you can't imagine that, then envision something really pathetic times 23.  

Socks and Crocs. The poster-child of pathetic. (And I secretly kind of like Crocs? Should I have admitted that to the world-wide web?) 

I was 100% sure that something was wrong with me. If there wasn't something fundamentally flawed about me than why do I cry when everything is going right? And why do I think bad things about good people? Am I evil because I think slacklining is kind of lame? All of these questions were simmering in my brain for weeks and erupted into a big volcano of crazy. 

This experience led me to evaluate not only the state of my mental health but also the type of person I am. Is someone considered "good" if they can manage to be happy all the time, no matter what? Am I considered a "bad" person because I seem to experience the whole spectrum of emotions at any given time or place? Is stealing samples from the Winco bulk section "bad"? (Different debate for a different time, my fellow samplers... shout out to Kenzie Kerr, Queen of Sampling.) 

Now that I have managed to write a paragraph of only questions, I will endeavor to write a paragraph with no question marks and maybe some answers scattered in there as well. 

If being "good" means that I need to find joy in every little thing, than I have failed. There are a lot of things in this world that make me want to curl up in a ball and ugly-cry. These panic attacks are the result of missing my mother, feeling stupid, and witnessing all of the hate in this world. But I have come to understand that God gave us the ability to feel emotions because they are essential to our overall happiness. As an individual, I cannot feel love towards someone unless I also get annoyed by them. I cannot be thankful for the blessing of getting an education without hating the fact that I have to take tests and actually go to class. I cannot learn to serve others unless I also experience selfishness.

 It is important to remember that we are not crazy or "bad" because we fall into negative thoughts on a daily basis. Rather, we are "good" and resilient individuals because we still choose to try and be better. We choose to feel joy with the knowledge that sadness will inevitably be there as well. And most of all, we can let our crazy out by talking with one another. We are not alone in our happiness, which also means we are not alone in our moments of sadness and loneliness. As humans, we have the ability to vocalize our emotions and insecurities. They are not something we should be ashamed of, rather it is something to be proud of. "Your character is ugly and beautiful at the same time and I love you for it."

My mother: the woman who validates my erratic emotions every day and still likes to hang out with me. 

Wow. Didn't know I could be so deep and philosophical, eh? Just shows you what weeks of panic attacks and contemplation does to ones thinking capabilities. 

Happy National Zucchini Bread Day!