A Gentle Reminder That Literally All Of Us Are Insane

We are all insane. Every single one of us.

And I don’t say that in a negative way.

Now some of you are thinking, “I am not insane!” And that is exactly what an insane person would say, so I get it.

I, of course, am insane. A recovering insane person, sure, an insane person who has done a lot of work to attempt to be much less insane, sure, but still—insane, because, like I said, literally all of us are insane.

And I’m not talking about cute, conversational insanity like “I sleep in a shield of stuffed animals,” or “I watched Love Island for nine hours straight,” (both true) I’m talking about [insert long list of actually unwell behavior from my 20s here, I’m trying to move on from all that].

Some texts my friend received from me on Halloween. (2012) I’m also 2 for 2 on posts that mention molly. Did you read my very first post?

Remembering that everyone is insane has helped me get through life recently. It helps me make sense of things. It helps me let go of trying to figure people out. Of overanalyzing behaviors. Of taking things personally. It’s so draining to obsess over those kinds of things. Do you obsess over those kinds of things? Of course you do. Because you’re insane. We all are.

Why is that person an asshole? Because they’re insane.
Why is this person so hard to get a hold of? Because they’re insane.
Why is that person acting weird? Because they’re insane.
Why am I doing this thing I don’t like to do, yet again? Because I’m insane.
Why am I doing this thing to myself that makes me sad? Because I’m insane.
Why isn’t anyone stopping a genocide? Because people are insane.
Why hasn’t anyone done anything about mass shootings? Because people are insane.
Why are we destroying the planet? Because people are insane.
Why are people so passionate about hurting people that are different from them? Because they are insane.
Why do horrific things happen every single day, but everyone just keeps going like nothing is happening, posting dumb things on Instagram, obsessing over the dumb things in their own dumb heads? Because literally all of us are insane.

The truth is, we could actually replace the word insane with things like: Wounded. Hurt. Scared. Suffering. Traumatized. And this isn’t justifying anything or giving anyone an excuse. I am not trying to empathize. I am trying to understand and make sense of it all. And the truth is, it doesn’t make any sense. All of it is just insane.

I mentioned unwell behavior in my 20s, but the truth is, I can always think of recent unwell behavior, though not as obvious. For example, I had hired support during the early days of postpartum, and it wasn’t until long after it happened, that I realized that even though this person wore extremely strong fragrances to our house every day, and even though I am sensitive to fragrance and have reactions to it, even though I paid this person a large amount of money, even though I was suffering through every minute of their presence, I could not, in my fragile, sleep-deprived, desperate state, ask this person to not wear any fragrance. I was too tired and hopeless to be brave. Maybe in this instance I am trying to empathize. Because I look back on that, on myself, and I feel so sad. Because that’s insane. (Seriously, if you had smelled our house and the way we couldn’t get the fragrance out of our newborn’s skin or clothes no matter how many times we washed them, for six weeks—the whole thing is insane.)

When I was a child, I assumed that all the adults knew what they were doing. I assumed that presidents and doctors and teachers and priests all knew what they were doing. Sometimes, as an adult, I’ve caught myself assuming that the people around me must know more than me. That everyone else has it all figured out. That people who are successful, or in power, are well. What a tragic and uniting reveal to realize no one knows what they’re doing and they’re all insane.

Am I insane for writing this out loud? Probably.

Is it insane that “we are all doing our best” and are most likely doing things out of survival because the fear, whether real or made up, is that overwhelming? Sure.

What I actually want to say you today is:

If you are reading this, you are alive. Which is actually insane—a lot of people aren’t alive. You are made up of energy, and you have the choice of where you want to focus that energy today. (Also insane.) I hope you can be kind to yourself today, and if you can’t be kind, I hope you can at least be neutral. Or gentle. Or patient. Or accepting. Or maybe you can find some experience of ease. Or joy. Maybe you can express yourself. Or create something. Or cry if you need to. Or laugh. Or remember. Or rest. Or change something up. Or do something brave. Or do nothing at all. I don’t know. I’m insane. We’re all insane.

PAWELKUCZYNSKI37, by Pawel Kuczynski