Saturday

High low. How are you?

Are we all a little crazy?  Therapists and doctors hate that word.
"Crazy" might mean she is a dizzy blonde who can't keep up with her car keys or a sociopath who plants bombs at marathons. 'Those crazy kids' might mean young lovers -or tweakers making meth behind the gas station.
It's a little hard to nail down.

Crazy CAN be defined, of course.  The DSM is the holy grail of how we professionally sort nuts into their appropriate piles.  We call people names according to their clusters of symptoms.
Which seems kind of mean.

It's a valid attempt for knowing how to prescribe the right meds to manage the most problems with the least amount of N/V/D, flatulence, weight loss, weight gain, floppy dick, and migraine with episodes of bleeding from the eyeballs.
But it's no fun to be called bipolar, schizoid, or SAD.  Even worse is the paint by number with first middle and last names:
 F43.24 Adjustment Disorder with Disturbance of Conduct.

Well... maybe if someone calls you F43point24ADWDOC... it sounds a little like you're a fighter pilot.  Or related to a duck.  It still doesn't really help you feel all that much better.
Unless the pharmaceutical industry happened to stumble upon something that makes your conduct less disturbed and adjustment less disorderly.  Then you're golden.

How about "broken"?  Maybe we can all just say we are broken.  At least while we are not in the doctors' offices or pharmacies.  Because we are all broken in some way.

You can't say, "I love you".  He won't be faithful to his wife.  They can't keep the voices in their heads from drowning out what is true.  I can't stop shooting up heroin.
(Mom, if you're reading this, I haven't STARTED shooting up heroin.)

My particular flavor of crazy/brokenness/tomfoolery is unusually abate today.  Or maybe I have come down with a new diagnosis altogether.  Either way, I plan to go out and have some fun being free from the symptoms that usually bother me the most.

I don't plan to call anyone else names today either.  Everyone gets a pass.  If you eat too much, weigh too little, smell funny, swerve, swear, stumble, or sort your M&M's before you eat them- you go have a great day out there.



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