Crazy and Proud of It

If one more person tells me I’m not crazy, I might just scream.

No, despite my tendency to leave out words and commit typographic sins on a regular basis, there is nothing wrong with that sentence.  I doubled checked it and it says exactly what I want it to.  I am crazy.  I’ve spend the last 11 years laboring under a diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder.  At one point, one of my medications was over $600.  Until recently, my insurance ate up half my tiny paycheck and, prior to doing that, it didn’t cover anything until I met a $2500 deductible – which I never did.  Goddammit, I’ve earned the right to call myself crazy.  By this point, I’ve paid money for the right.

But people absolutely flip when I say, “I’m crazy.”  There’s a stigma attached to it that I think is ridiculous – particularly since I can’t figure…