The Crazy One

In the past few weeks, I have felt myself reverting back to that uneasy label that lurks in the back of my mind, waiting to come out when I am not feeling strong or when I am feeling so completely and utterly different from the rest of the world.  The label 'the crazy one' is probably one that I gave myself in my teens when my emotions and despair were so extreme that I almost died.  Perhaps it was a label that came from being hospitalized at 16. There is nothing like the diagnostic and somewhat paternalistic environment of a mental hospital to reinforce that 'crazy' label.  I remember coming back to school after that hospitalization feeling like I carried a scarlet "C" for crazy.  For years after, I felt like family members tiptoed around me, that I was someone to be watched and shielded from the world. Internally, this label kept me from reaching out for help, from expressing who I was and sometimes left me walking around feeling like I had something to 'prove' in this world; to prove that I was strong and not 'crazy'.

Somehow in my late teens and 20's, I found myself  in a relationship with someone who deeply reinforced my feeling of difference, who made me feel like I was 'nothing', who made me question my own reality and everything around me. As most good abusers do, this person was skilled at making me feel like no-one else would love me, that I was internally flawed.  No matter what he did to hurt me, he could always it turn around and make it my 'fault'.  This person knew how to keep the focus on himself while at the same time making me feel like nothing, like my world was only him.  I remember the only times of 'joy' I had in those years in my 20's were when I could get away from him. When he was not around, my young daughter and I could be free for a bit and I actually could feel connected to her and to myself away from him.  My relationships with others, who helped me reflect my beauty back to me probably saved my life.  Without them, holding me up and pushing me forward, I may not have made it through this crazy time when my world was 'him' and 'I' was often completely lost. 

Recently, I was embroiled in some drama that involved close family members and extended family members who do not know me at all.  This drama involved my close family members defending each other against attacks by some 'not so nice' extended family members.  The interesting part of this 'drama' was that, in spite of the fact that I was just expressing my feelings, an extended family member wrote one of my close family members expressing concern about my emotional state!! Additionally, I was attacked by another extended family member(same family) for one of my blog posts that basically just expressed the facts of the situation while expressing how I felt about that same situation.  Somehow all of this gave me that 'uneasy' crazy feeling.  In the instance of the blog post, I felt that someone was completely shredding 'my character' and I questioned and re-read all of  my communications with this person, trying to find my 'craziness' to see if he was right.  In the case of the other family member who sent the 'concerned' e-mail, I reverted back to questioning my own sanity and wondering if I was indeed, 'just too sensitive'. 

I realized that that family drama triggered those old feelings in me; feelings that were prevalent throughout my teens and 20's.  Somehow when dealing with extended family members that had no empathy for my feelings and made me feel like nothing, I found myself 'back' in that relationship where I learned to feel like I was 'nothing'. Expressing my 'truth' and my 'anger' had once again turned me into the 'crazy one'; the one who was just too emotional.  Luckily, now I have enough awareness and self esteem that I know not to buy into another person's ideas of who I am.  However, it is sometimes difficult to escape from those body memories that come up unbidden when triggered by narcissistic people.  There is just something so mind-blowing and utterly confusing about people who have no empathy, never take responsibility for their actions, and always make the other person 'the bad guy' or the 'crazy one' when they are backed into a corner. 

It took me a long time after that long abusive relationship in my 20's to regain, or even find a self beyond him.  It also took me many years to recover from a hospitalization in my teens that made me feel like the 'crazy' one, that instead of giving me skills and self esteem, gave me shame. As I learn to speak out from my heart and be more of who I am, I realize that some of who I am may make some people uncomfortable.  But, for those who choose to attack me for those feelings or express faux concern about my 'mental state', there is absolutely nothing I can do but ignore them.  Some people are just not worth interacting with.  No matter how hard I try to wrap my head around a person's behavior(particularly a narcissist), it will always be impossible to understand.

It is somewhat easy to distance oneself from toxic people, but it is not nearly as easy to distance oneself from a society that is full of 'expectations' of 'normalcy'.  These expectations shame and exile those of us who may seem 'out of the norm', sometimes driving us underground to isolation and even death.  If we are lucky, we find others like us and realize that we are beautiful in all our craziness.  We are able to share and give back to the world.  If we are not lucky, we are often exiled(with varying diagnoses) into groups of others who are dysfunctional and lost, only to struggle through life unfulfilled and sad.  In order to change all this we need to learn to embrace our 'crazy' selves and be exceedingly gentle with them.  When we meet someone who may seem 'different' or maybe even a little bit 'crazy', we need to open our hearts and minds and listen.  For me, strength comes in finding others walking this path of growth and authenticity.  If we can learn to embrace our differences, band together and reach out, perhaps us 'crazy ones' will begin to change this sometimes baffling and cold world.  We can harness that we which sets us 'apart' and pierce through the crazy making world of  'normalcy' and create a better world. 

A Letter To My Beloved Friend, Heidi A.

It has been almost 7 years since you left us.  It's been 7 years full of turmoil, pain and rarely, joy and laughter.  I miss you my friend; sometimes with great pain and longing.

Grief has taken me places my heart and soul never visited before.  It has taken me into the darkest of holes and back up into the light, at times. I have done things I am not proud of and retreated away from life and parenting in ways that have been less than healthy.  There have been times that I have felt so ripped to shreds that I did not know if I would survive.  I remember walking into my house when I got back from your memorial service in Portland; collapsing in tears when I saw my oldest daughter, realizing that you would never see my girls grow up. Knowing that you would not be here to share this crazy life made me feel lost and afraid.

From the first time I saw you standing in that hallway of our first apartment with your parents, I knew that we would be friends.  Our friendship grew that first year in college, and then waned when I was lost in a relationship that was full of turmoil.  We would always re-connect and grow with each other, even after we both had times of absence, stuck in our own traumas and scared to reach out to each other.  Even in painful times, we knew how to make each other laugh, to listen, and to reflect love to each other.  Ours was a deep friendship ,borne of pain, that grew stronger as the years went by. You 'got' me in a way that no-one else could. 

Since you've been gone, I have suffered the loss of my dad to dementia, career issues, trauma with parenting, the loss of our beloved family cabin and much more.  Every time I am going through something big, either good or bad, I miss you.  I miss being able to call you up on the phone. I miss the realities that you would reflect back to me.  I miss the fact that you could always show me my 'goodness' even when I was feeling horrible about myself.  Your friendship taught me to love; to open my heart.  When you left, I felt that heart shut down.  It is still hard for me to open my heart again because it was beyond painful to lose you.  I don't know that my heart could deal with that kind of pain again.  But, it has and it will because life is impermanent and death happens.  

The weekend you disappeared, I called your house to talk to you.  Your partner's mom answered the phone.  There was something odd in her tone and she said that your partner would call me later.  I got off the phone confused.  On a beautiful, slightly windy February morning, your partner called me and told me you were missing.  My mind reeled in confusion.  For three weeks, I held out hope that you would be found alive.  But, Sunday night in late February, your partner called and told me your body had been found in Laurelhurst Park in a pond.  My mind shut down and I immediately booked a flight to Portland.  I had just suffered one of the biggest losses of my life.  Even 7 years later, there are no answers to what happened.  And there probably never will be.

7 years later, I still sob thinking about it.  Your loss can hit me just as hard 7 years later as it did that Sunday in February.  I've learned that grieving is a spiral; sometimes there is peace and gratitude and other times, there is anger, pain, and deep sadness.  I've learned that friends that you make in shared grief can distance themselves and rip the scab off the wound with their absence.  I've learned how very loved you were by many; how you affected everyone from your work to your personal life.  I've learned that a deep friendship like ours is rare and that many don't understand the deep love that friends can feel for one another. I consider you my soul sister, as much a part of my family as my blood relatives.  Your loss hit me so hard that it took at least 5 years for me to get a grip on it, to stop constantly numbing myself and decide to live.

Every year, I dread this month, the month of your death.  I long to be enlightened, to celebrate who you were and not be so sad about your loss and the lack of answers surrounding your death. But, I always find myself grieving.  The spirals are not as long and the moments of peace are longer, but the sadness hits hard sometimes and all I can do is feel it.

I know that you are not gone my friend.  You are inside of me every day.  You are in nature, in your most beloved place, the place where you found so much peace from a world that was sometimes full of turmoil. You enriched my life in so many ways.  I will never forget your keen intellect, your long detailed stories, your laughter, your stubbornness, your rage, your quest for justice for the young and vulnerable, your unconditional love and so much more. Our friendship is irreplaceable.  I will always miss you, but you will always be in my heart.  This journey of life, no matter where it takes me, will always be traveled hand in hand with you, my soul friend.