Call Me Crazy

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Photo by Viv (my 5-year-old mini)

 

I have been called crazy….more than once. I won’t lie, it hurts. It hurts every single time.  It hurts the most when it comes from someone I love and care about their opinion. Recently, I was talking with a friend about that word and how I was hurt by it. This dear friend stared me in the face and said, ” Vanessa, you are crazy and that is one of the things we all love the most about you.” I realized that I needed to reevaluate my feelings about that word.

Definition of crazy

crazier; craziest

1 a : full of cracks or flaws : unsound

  • … they were very crazy, wretched cabins …
  • —Charles Dickens

2 a : not mentally sound : marked by thought or action that lacks reason : insane 1b

  • yelling like a crazy man

not used technically

b (1) : impractical

  • a crazy plan

(2) : erratic

  • crazy drivers

c : being out of the ordinary : unusual

  • a taste for crazy hats

3 a : distracted with desire or excitement

  • a thrill-crazy mob
  • The fans went crazy when their team won the championship.

b : absurdly fond : infatuated

  • He’s crazy about the girl.

c : passionately preoccupied : obsessed

  • crazy about boats

I am crazy. They are right. My friend is right. By its very definition I am out of the ordinary, unusual, distracted by excitement, full of flaws and I often lack reason. This is me. I have always been that way and it can be one of the very things that draws people to me. It can also be one of the things I struggle with the most.

I love life. I am passionate about the things I do, the people I love and all the little details that go along with living a full life. I go full on into things. I am all or nothing. While I love that quality, in my maturing years, I am seeing the need for moderation. I am actively working on moderation because I value consistency. I believe to have consistency there has to be some level of moderation. I burn out so quickly because I do everything with such passion that it can be exhausting. I am finding things that I care enough about to pace myself for. I am realizing that some things are truly worth taking your time on and being patient with. Yikes, that word, patient. In my 34 years and 6 years of sobriety, I am getting it. I am understanding that I have got to be consistent to truly get the benefits of it. I have to be steady and take my time. This is all easier said than done for someone who this is just not my nature. I do know now that things worth having take work, time and effort. I still remember absolutely hating practicing my instruments or voice. That’s right, plural. I played multiple instruments, not because I was this amazing talent, but because I had a certain natural skill that I could do well without practicing for a period of time. When that time ran out and I had to work harder and actually practice, I moved on to the next. This was my mode of operation for everything in life well into adulthood.

Now, I see that to reach the full potential to gain the most joy, I have to put the work in. I have to keep going when it isn’t fun and I have to keep trying even when I am not doing well. My initial reaction is to quit when the new wears off and the spark seems to have died. However, now I see that the blazing fire comes when you build it. I see now that the passion can grow. I see the value in a steady burning flame as opposed to the initial loud bang from when it is first lit.

I am sure there are other things that make me “crazy.” I can be extremely irrational sometimes. I feel like I am on the outside watching myself do things even I know are ridiculous. I have this imagination that can just run wild! I really should start writing fiction because I can come up with some just fascinating stories. My anxiety just takes over and I can feel helpless. I can get ideas or thoughts stuck on this loop. They just play over and over and over, each time snowballing into something more dramatic. I rationally know it isn’t right. I know it doesn’t really make sense. I have to use all my resources and just honestly pray sometimes. It can be the same things about my depression. I can be driving along and feel this punch in the gut and a wave of sadness for no real reason. Now, I put on Joy essential oil and a great song and try my best to work my way out of it.

These things make me feel crazy and in a way I am. I know I am full of flaws and cracks. That is how the light shines out. I know I am broken and I know that the only reason I am here is because of the love that I was given. I hope I can use my crazy for good. I hope I can spread this crazy passion around for all to feel just a little crazy, too! Embrace your crazy!

 

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