mad·ness /ˈmædnɪs/ noun
1. the state of being mad; insanity.
2. senseless folly: It is sheer madness to speak as you do.
3. frenzy; rage.
4. intense excitement or enthusiasm.
“We’re all mad here.” ~~ Lewis Carroll
So, for the last twenty years, I’ve held a book titled “Mind of a Mad Woman” which encapsulates my crazy poetry. However, I’ve ventured even further into the madness since then. I begin to question my sanity extensively lately as I fear I am going quite mad.
As someone who has always disliked the “Alice in Wonderland” story because of its drug references, I find myself drawn of late to everything about the Mad Hatter. It makes no sense, I know; but I do believe that he is my equal when it comes to knowing what happens to the mind when one completely loses it. The fact that I’ve always loved the idea of tea parties (which has all to do with my Grandma and nothing to do with his, I assure you) kind of makes us an even better pair of strange bedfellows.
No, I’ve not slipped down any rabbit holes, I assure you. The rabbits in my back yard are the standard wild brown color and only white on the tail and not the white kind sporting pocket watches. They also haven’t said anything to me, so I’ve not completely slipped over the edge. YET. Oh and the nasty, green caterpillars that are munching away on my hibiscus bush are just killing the poor thing, not smoking some strange concoction that only God knows the ingredients to.
My descent into madness comes with a price, as all things do. My memory isn’t what it used to be and the pain I suffer is excruciatingly painful. I’m not happy and when I push myself to participate in life, I am only half a woman there. The pain is driving me further and further into madness. My temper is shorter these days. My pain induced life is making me sicker and sicker and I can’t find anywhere to escape to. Even sleep is filled with pain. There is no escaping it.
In November 2011, I saw a doctor for my trigeminal neuralgia. He told me to see a pain management specialist; because he couldn’t help. I was willing to have the nerves surgically removed and suffer permanent paralysis; but he told me it would not work. Drugs do not help. Bio feedback has failed me and there is no other therapy available to help. When I read about TN, it is rated the worst pain disease in the world and the rate of patients with it committing suicide is 90%. I’m not there; but if the madness continues, who knows. I’m not one who believes in this type of solution; but anything can change.
I’m trying to cope the best that I can; but as anyone who has a touch of madness can tell you, it is not easy. Concentration is hard and takes me longer to do tasks than I used to. Lapsing into “lost” is a frequent occurence these days. My but the world is just passing me by and there is nothing I can do.
Don’t worry, I don’t pity myself. It is just a fact of life. It is one of the reasons I keep a blog and journal. To document the madness. To watch the descent. To minute by minute the crack as it widens. Am I truly as mad as a hatter? I’m not sure; but I do know that what was once is no more.
So, how is a raven like a writing desk?