It’s hard to consider what’s normal when you’re talking about being crazy but there’s bound to be a median somewhere.
Actually, I’ve been told by professionals that I’m not crazy and this makes me feel a whole lot better.
And that’s what this is about, being crazy and feeling better.
I’ve got my annual physical next week and I’m not particularly looking forward to it. The thing bugging me the most isn’t the cholesterol they’re bound to warn me about, and it’s not the fatty fat fatness they are certain to mention, either. The thing is I saw my doctor about six months ago, desperate to get a referral to a shrink, at the end of my rope with another bout of hallucinations, sleepwalking, etc. etc. etc. I needed help.
You should have seen her face. “You’ve been hallucinating for how long?” she asked, with a look that said, “And, yet, he appears normal.”
I told her everything because, at the time, I saw no other solution than serious help.
The thing is, before I really got much help, it ended. Just like that. What had become a daily routine dropped immediately to the point where I think I still sleepwalk but I can’t say with any certainty when I last did. It’s like great beast came within inches of me – and then walked back to go sleep in its cave. I can’t really say I’m better… but I am…
The only thing is that I have to see my doctor next week and, while I can deal with her, it’s turned into this big, flashing, constant reminder, pointing its finger, glaring at me. “You’re not really better,” it says. After all, isn’t it a lot like being diagnosed with cancer and then announcing you feel better without any treatment?
It’s important for me to understand the whys and wherefores… so… Perhaps all the craziness last summer, and it’s sudden absence, can be understood better if we understand the context. My brain tends to deal with stress in its own way, let’s just say. What stressful event did I have? Last summer? Well… none. But if you go back a few months before that – I was out of work for over six months until March. Maybe that’s what started all the craziness, and it was a response to all that stress? Put in that context, it’s not so strange for it to end. Some people vomit, others break out… I hallucinate…
I just have to remember, when the doctor asks how I’m feeling, to give a wide, crooked smile and answer, my voice cracking just a little, “I feel great!”