How mad are you feeling right now? Maybe you are perfectly balanced in every way; calm, collected and commanding; healthy, wealthy and wise. Or maybe you have a funny pulse/twitch behind one of your eyes and you’re so anxious you feel as though your heart might melt and dribble moltenly down your solar plexus. Perhaps you are on the verge of tears or so sleep-deprived that you are throbbing with adrenaline like a battery operated toy with no soul. But, I bet, no one would ever know.
How is it that we can do meetings, dinners, commutes and conversations with utter aplomb whilst knowing that we are pretty close to certifiable? We can seem so undulatingly in control, so marvellously functional when in fact we are a danger to ourselves and others. We can start a sentence, lose track of what we were saying halfway through that sentence and then improvise using autopilot filler words until our stalled brain kicks back in and saves us from humiliation. Most of the time.
But, the question is, how long can this go on? This sanity subterfuge. This faking it. Which will come first, the public breakdown or the effective recovery? Or could it be that the madness is part of the texture of life? That it’s actually meant to be there; this secret, locked-in, low-level lunacy? Are we alone? Simple litmus test. Just say, “I feel properly mad today,” and if the response is a concerned stare combined with head tilt then move swiftly on. Don’t try to explain, that way madness lies. But if someone says, “Oh God, tell me about it,” then share the cray-cray. That way connection lies.