Don’t Call Me Crazy
Don’t call me crazy.
That word holds deeper meaning than your loose analysis of my “erratic” behavior.
As a child, crazy was taboo, an insult. An unforgiving word used to describe my mother’s unpredictable behavior. She hates that word so I detest it.
She has bipolar disorder.
“Normal” conversations are few and far between and I can tell when she skips her medicine by the slightest change in her mood. She’s constantly judged for her condition, ostracized for a small imbalance that deems her an outcast in society.
Yet, she’s one hell of a mother who raised two women while battling the issues and demons from her past. She’s the sweetest person you could ever meet with a smile that lights up the room.
My mother has mental illness.
And as hard and frustrating as it can be at times, I couldn’t imagine not giving her the love and support she deserves. She’s just like everyone else and should be treated as such. Those two words override every beautiful thing about her and categorizes her as “unfit.”
So, when you spew barbs such as “crazy”, just know that it travels deeper than you can imagine. It reminds me of the insults, the criticism and the condescending stares my mom endured. The times I’ve blamed her for not being “normal.” The hurt I feel when I can’t protect her from others and from herself.
The pain is real. Mental illness is real. So please, don’t call me crazy.
February 7, 2014
You’re right. And I find it to be important, more and more, to really be careful how we label people and how to control the speed of judgement. We never know what people are dealing with. We all have our own demons, but they don’t define the person they live in. This story was told beautifully and thank God for people like you who are a voice for those who may not be able to express it better on their own.
February 10, 2014
Thank you! It’s not easy to talk about but I felt this was the best platform to be vocal. I pray that we can someday erase the stigma surrounding mental illness.