Which is absolutely fine — but I would like to take this opportunity to publicly state that I do not write anything for this diary with the intent of entertaining anyone else. I have other websites for that. If anything I write here bores you, I do not apologize and will bear you no malice if you un-follow/stop reading via. RSS.
That said, let’s move on to the meat of this post. I’m hesitant to call them “psychotic breaks”, but that’s what they are, and I have them once in a while. I have PTSD from some really, really horrible shit that went down when I was attending an all-boys grammar school (ten points and a shiny nickel to the genius that can work out why I didn’t exactly fit in there) and every now and then it surfaces and my brain stops working the way it’s meant to.
The most recent time it happened (manifesting in extreme anxiety and paranoia and what Abby refers to as the “crazy eyes”) I recall being very aware of the return to normality, like a switch flipped in my head. I just sat up and asked Abby if I looked like me again, and she said I did, and that was it.
This is relevant to right now because for the last few days I have not felt very funny. Which is not good news for someone who spends most of her day trying to make people laugh. But just now I was reading my twitter stream and I felt that same click in my head, and I started making jokes again. And not just jokes — the cool, conceptual humor that makes me happiest.
The important lesson to take away from this is that there is something very wrong with my brain. Oh, and also… um… something, something, “grew as a person”.
