I remember when I
was in elementary school, we had field day each year right before school was
out, and the fifth graders always did a certain relay called "the String
Man," which involved choosing one person from your team to stand at the
end of the field and then everyone took turns running to put oversized crazy
clothes on them, like a hat and a tie and a giant coat, and for the finale, a
ping pong ball in the mouth. Even though I was a little scared of the ping pong
ball requirement, I always wanted to be the String Man, and when I was finally
in fifth grade, my dream came true and my group let me be the String Man. It was an honor to be the crazy person in
front of everyone, and I mostly feel the same way about my mental illness
now. Different people have had different
experiences with losing their minds, and mental illness is often a path of
continual heartbreak and humiliation. So
I do not want to come across in any insensitive way or make light of people's
pain. But I genuinely have always
thought mentally ill people were cool and interesting, and I am overjoyed and
thankful beyond any capability of expressing it to live almost my whole life
with a mind that makes mood rings shoot sparks and that keeps reality from
dominating every conversation like I do when I am manic.
I am a fool and a weirdo, and sometimes an outcast, and sometimes a spectacle, but every day I generate more prayer and ideas, more material for comedy in heaven, more potential friendship for others who suffer, and most importantly, most nobly, and most spiritually... carbon dioxide. Just staying alive is literally a lifetime achievement accomplished every day. Reality is different for mentally ill people, and not just because of delusions. During a depression, microwaving a bag of popcorn can become a heroic act of strength, and for someone with social anxiety, looking out the window can be a triumph. Our suffering is a mystery to some of the sanest, smartest people there are, and as we endure our hardship while being so often misunderstood, there are opportunities for great wisdom found in mental spaces that most people will never have access to. Some of those spaces happen to be hell on earth for years at a time, so let's not paint a picture that is too optimistic. But let's do paint some pictures and eat some good food and keep on going just in case we have a day where we find that we are the people responsible for telling the people who judge us that they are raving lunatics.
I am a fool and a weirdo, and sometimes an outcast, and sometimes a spectacle, but every day I generate more prayer and ideas, more material for comedy in heaven, more potential friendship for others who suffer, and most importantly, most nobly, and most spiritually... carbon dioxide. Just staying alive is literally a lifetime achievement accomplished every day. Reality is different for mentally ill people, and not just because of delusions. During a depression, microwaving a bag of popcorn can become a heroic act of strength, and for someone with social anxiety, looking out the window can be a triumph. Our suffering is a mystery to some of the sanest, smartest people there are, and as we endure our hardship while being so often misunderstood, there are opportunities for great wisdom found in mental spaces that most people will never have access to. Some of those spaces happen to be hell on earth for years at a time, so let's not paint a picture that is too optimistic. But let's do paint some pictures and eat some good food and keep on going just in case we have a day where we find that we are the people responsible for telling the people who judge us that they are raving lunatics.
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