There is this impression which ‘normal’ people have that insanity is somehow the result of personal deficiency. As if somehow having your shit together can prevent mental decrepitude from sneaking up on you. That having money or friends or a good family will offer some sort of protective barrier.
It certainly seems that way, right? Because the really crazy people you know are separated from family. They’re destitute. They’re those lunatics on the street, mumbling under their breath and yelling at no-one and everyone.
It doesn’t always occur to the normals that many of ‘those people’ might have had some or all of those things. It’s simply that insanity pushes them all away. It rejects them and whisks you away to be discarded.
It is really hard to form connections with people when you are mentally ill. Doing that requires opening up. Not just opening up and revealing who you are inside (which in itself is terrifying), but opening yourself to damage from the outside. Because other people are dangerous (feel dangerous); even if that isn’t their intention. When you are mentally ill, your wrongbrain tries to steer how those interactions unfold. It sabotages. It distracts. It exhausts.
About a year ago I started feeling things that weren’t there. Burning sensations. Popping sensations. Vibrations, numbness, and even feeling…
