“Crazy”, but not crazy enough.


I often believe I’m “crazy”.

Whether that is mentally ill, neurodivergent, or just plain old bigoted insecure paranoid self-conscious crazy, it happens relatively often that it’s become part of my identity.

It’s lonely.

It’s difficult to describe without feeling over-dramatic; it’s dramatic but it’s also utterly mundane.

It’s probably got just one name and just one cause, but god help me if I can find it, instead I flip between a million labels, feeling like it could be any or none of these things.

(panic attack, emotional, over-reacting, self-conscious, feeling down, feeling anxious, feeling paranoid, spiralling, stressed, obsessive, depressed, ill, manic, agitated, overwhelmed, confused, overloaded, confused, tired…etc.)

It’s lonely because you don’t understand how you are feeling, so you can’t just “reach out for help” because you don’t know what you need.
It’s tiring, because you oscillate between feeling desperately bad and feeling like you’re over-reacting; it’s impossible to figure out which and I tire myself out flipping between different approaches.

I try calming down, I try writing, I try to talk through my problems (picking problems out of the ether that might be causing this panic, because the emotions aren’t tied to anything clear…if they were, that would be manageable.)

I try addressing negative beliefs I might hold about the world until something makes me feel different, I try reassuring myself that it’s okay to feel bad or anxious or confused or whatever this is, I try reassuring myself that I will be fine.

I try beating myself up for being so over-dramatic, but I still feel dramatic.

It’s not crazy, I know.

I know in reality this is anxiety with a bit of panic, and the solution is to forgive myself for it, and to see a therapist if it becomes unmanageable, because they can help solve the problems that are at the root of your (generalised) anxiety. I know the solution is to be aware that I can be triggered into it, and to try and keep track of these things so I can limit them or predict them.

But this all sounds way too reasonable, and calm, and collected, and logical. When you are in that head-space, everything sounds crazy, and doubtful, and completely inappropriate, no matter how much you know that you are in *that* headspace again; it makes no difference.

One thing that I hate is how little we can control the brain. We know that everyone is unique, and we know how a lot of psychological problems are formed and fixed, we know that CBT has high success rates and people change their lives through it. But it still feels so lonely. It still feels out-of-control.

I have another confession.

I’m not “crazy”.
I hold down a low-wage job, a flat, a partner, a family that I am on good terms with, friends.

I don’t have support and I don’t qualify for it.

I know that I don’t qualify for it.

So now, you have guilt added in. I’m not the right demographic to confess to feeling crazy. I’m too proud to ask for help because I know from experience that the resources are stretched, and one middle-class girl person with occassional bouts of serious doubt and panic are not the government’s highest concern.

And apparently, not mine either. I tried to contact a private therapist once.


It didn’t work out, because they were booked up, so I gave up.

I’m not arrogant enough to think that I’m the only person like this, or that I should be at the top of any list. I just wish I could fix this myself, but quicker.

I’m stable enough to know I’ll be fine, but crazy enough to “suffer”; stable enough to know compared to others I hardly “suffer” at all.

Perhaps it’s incredibly self-involved of me, but perhaps if more people could relate to and understood and were able to willingly admit how “crazy” even tiny, small, almost inconspicuous mental health blips feel, then perhaps half the anxiety involved in feeling bad would go away. I think it would for me.

Until then, every so often, I’ll be imperceptibly “unwell”, I won’t get it labelled, and I’ll feel just a bit like a scary freak person, even though I should know better. Yay!


Thank you for reading! ❤ Please leave a comment if you ever feel the same way*! (*rational vs irrational, and shitty both ways.)



My Life As A Potential Label Stealer (Autism)

So I’ve written previously about how I use labels that I don’t necessarily feel fit me because I find them helpful nonetheless. I didn’t get round to talking about autism and me.

My most controversial self-label flirtation is the one with autism*. It’s the one I’ve had the most pushback on, in the form of potentially rather ignorant statements like “everyone is a little bit on the spectrum” and a GP simply shaking her head at the suggestion, despite my 3 siblings being definitively on the spectrum since young ages. Now, I’m not claiming to be the epitomy of autism. Not at all. I’m clearly a very social person, with at least a temporary ability to communicate well and use body language, and I can see this, I’m not surprised when people see this and reject “autism” as a label for me.

But it is so useful for me. It fits so well into the words and the concepts that I need to describe my life and experiences and behaviours. Stimming fits with my pretty-much constant need to be fidgeting, mainly typical behaviours like picking at my hair or nail polish, but even writing it feels like a half-assed excuse and justification. Listing that I flap when I’m excited sounds like I’ve copied it out of a symptoms list, and only remembering that another close friend pointed out that I’m very “flappy” when I’m really happy about something makes me realise that this is actually accurate.

I don’t really need other people to find my labels valid, that is my point as a potential label stealer. I can get use out of the label and the language without needing other people to get it or to understand it, it’s a deeply personal thing. I find it useful to describe my obsessions to myself as “special interests” and to allow myself my physical quirks like clicking my fingers repeatedly or clicking my tongue on the roof of my mouth; I find largely that it helps with my sense of shame for those behaviours, to give them a name and a reason and a legitimate purpose as a neurodivergent person. (And I do believe I’m neurodivergent, as far as anyone who can pass as neurotypical can be, in fact, I often question whether everyone who’s supposedly “neurotypical” is like me, only hides it better, and then I realise how ridiculous that would be.)

Giving myself a label allows me to legitimately occupy a space I’m already living in; it makes my quirky weirdness and constant struggle to fit in a fact of my life, instead of aseries of challenges that I’m failing at simply because I’m inadequate. It makes my awkward responses to schoolmates/bullies logical, my gravitation to autistic peers more inevitable, my incessant fidgeting and fight to stop it more sympathetic (I don’t stop myself from clicking my mouth anymore, like I did when I was very little and in infant school, and can remember myself doing).  It means I can be kinder to myself and believe that I am in fact, doing alright as I am. I can give myself permission to be me with all my “flaws” because they’ve in fact got a name, and they are a valid form of existance.

*Actually, my more recent aquisition of the label dyspraxia is more controversial, having had a direct rejection from someone who has been tested for dyspraxia, because “her mother apparently also felt she had it once hearing that her daughter did, but her mother is just a very over-exuberant person and thus does not have it”. Yes, that story doesn’t make sense, because it’s possible to be over-exuberant and also dyspraxic, but nonetheless, it’s the seed of doubt that means I’m going to continue blaming myself for having my movement volume too loud instead of getting myself tested, at least for another few months. But this label is newer, so I’ve had less feedback. And with this kind of feedback, that trend isn’t likely to change.

Social Model of Disability: Autism

Amazing report on autism in the workplace by Janine Booth for the Trade Union Congress. Could not recommend reading this more, it presents an in depth view of how the social model of disability interacts with the workplace for autistic individuals:


Scope, the disability charity, covers the social model of disability in more breadth from a variety of disability advocates in this beautifully straightforward video:

Deafness, Lyrics and Music Videos

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Amazingly educational post by tumblr user andreashettle; about how deafness covers more than people with zero hearing, and how music can be made more inclusive with the addition of lyrics. It’s actually ridiculous how misrepresented disability is in mainstream media and education, resulting in many people not understanding how blurred the spectrum of ability really is, and what disability really entails, and how to genuinely make a difference to being inclusive. A similar point would be the ability of some wheelchair users to stand or even walk short distances, and how this too is erased in popular media, resulting in public ignorance and assumptions about “lazy” wheelchair users. More on that later.