But we're never gonna survive unless we get a little.... crazy

Okay, lookit. I am more than a little bit crazy. Way more than a little bit. At times in my life, this has been treated pharmaceutically. But most often not. These days, I choose to manage my own crazy behaviorally for a lot of reasons.

The primary reason is that managing my bad crazy with drugs ends up managing my good crazy along with it, which I am not cool with. It makes me flatlined. Lacking of personality. And the reality is that I am a woman of great personality, made up of extremes. This is central to my identity.

I am wildly funny and wildly passionate and wildly happy and, then, wildly sad and wildly irrational.

I've never found a drug that could only treat those last two bits, so I have chosen just to be a little bit crazy, and sometimes sad, in order to preserve my wicked sense of humour and striking bouts of glee. It's a trade off, yes, but one I'm happy with.

I don't judge anyone else's personal decision about medication because that's exactly what it is: personal. Just as I'd ask them not to judge mine.

And btw, I'm allowed to say crazy because I am crazy. Weirdly, it's like black people and the n-word. You're not allowed to call me crazy, but I am. And it's because I know from crazy. I live it every day.

Anyway, so being crazy, as is per the norm, I had a full scale meltdown this weekend about the new place. Who the hell knows why. Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's change. Maybe it's because my toenail polish is chipped and I'm projecting.

What I do know is that the full scale meltdown, once set in play, cannot be stopped. The problem with having been a litigator is that I can work myself into a lather and marshal, literally, every bad fact about a situation into a thrilling, breathless monologue that will leave you questioning your own very existence.

Oh, yes, I'm that good.

Normally, I just hole up in my cocoon when the bad crazy happens and ride it out. But I don't have that option these days because there's this boy there sniffing around me and wondering about my well being all the time.

And so, unable to hide, I had no option but to show my crazy in full force to this poor boy. And I found myself surprised, yet again, by his stoicism and resilience and acceptance.

I was trying to explain it to someone today as I relayed my weekend meltdown. And I started by saying he puts up with my crazy, or that he endures my crazy, but that's not it, precisely.

No, he accepts my crazy. Takes it as a given and just rolls with the punches until it passes.

Last night, I was struggling to justify myself to him, once the tide had gone back out to sea. I tried to say how this bad crazy is okay because it comes with all of those other traits.

And he was all, "I know that. I know you. And believe me, I know you're crazy. I've known that from day one. And I love all of your brands of crazy. Don't ever change."

You know, I'm sure that this relationship is my karmic reward for the ghosts of relationships past, and all of the bad people who have peppered my past. And that I deserve him because of that.

But there are times where I still can't believe it's true.