When we think of people going mad, the mental images of their insanity can manifest in a million different ways.
We might picture the tortured soul giggling, huddled in a corner, with eyes devoid of coherent thought. We could envision someone enraged and mercilessly searching for their next victim to mutilate. And sometimes, we imagine them simply closing in on themselves, shutting out the world, and stowing away any of the traits that made them “normal.”
Well, my internal monologue went mad this past weekend.
It’s not the first, and I’m certain, it won’t be the last time this happens, but my inner voice took a long walk off the short pier of reason.
After three weeks of battling a sinus infection that morphed into bronchitis and then into a “touch” of pneumonia, I was already feeling pretty run down. After being told, “You should be better” and “It’s been three weeks. You think you’d be over it,” by two people that I love, I felt even worse.
As the day wore on, I found myself home alone. In my efforts to be a valuable member of our home and society, I did some dishes. As I scrubbed the dishes, the dark thoughts kept washing over me.
“Do they think I enjoy not being able to breathe?”
“It might just be better if I DID stop breathing.”
“Seriously, if I just gave up, at least my coughing and nose-blowing wouldn’t annoy them anymore.”
The thoughts went on and on. The dishes got done. The floor got swept. I was out of breath, depleted of energy, and maybe just a little bit angry.
My inner monologue had gone mad.
What did I do?
Intentergy 