Brooke's Stories

Don’t Call Me Crazy.

Don’t call me crazy.

Don’t imply that I need help because I am passionate about __________ .

Don’t mock my response to a situation that I feel strongly about.

Don’t tell me that I’m crazy.

Don’t dismiss my fears by saying that word.

Don’t deflect from your behavior by hurling that accusation.

Don’t diagnose me for having emotions.

Don’t call me crazy.

I’ve been through the hard times and I’m in awe of the good.

And with that sorted journey, I’m acutely aware of myself and my beliefs and the possibilities of the “impossible.”

Don’t tell me I’m crazy for not being naive.

Don’t tell me I’m crazy for being green.

I may be a lot of things: compassionate, strong, obedient, aware, funny, overwhelmed, stubborn, determined, scared.

There are so many other ways to describe me than to use that word.

Because “crazy” is what got me here.

“Crazy” is where I came from.

“Crazy” is what I’m circling around.

I was “crazy” to think that this could be my life.

I was “crazy” to take that leap of faith.

I was “crazy” to push that fear away.

I was “crazy” to think that I could overcome.

What you call “crazy,” I call so many other things and the generalization of crazy is a reflection of your inability to understand.

It’s an insult.

So, take a moment and sit in my shoes.

Take in the full picture.

Soak up my truth.

And, don’t call me crazy.


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