Earlier this January, I was having a candid conversation with my sister in law and soon to be sister in law. We were having a quick, quiet chat about my "man situation" and I began to tell them "I can't be with someone more than 25% crazy". Our initially low tone, wine glass in tow exchange of whispers rumbled into a burst of laughter from my brothers special ladies. They pretty much accused me of being more than 50% crazy. And it was at that moment, I realized I never really measured the degree of my crazy. Yes, I acknowledge I'm fuckin crazy. My actions and general behavior day to day are a reflection of that. Some call it being fearless others... question if I'd do better with some lithium in my life (on the days I'm a hot ass mess). Their bursts of laughter cranked my brains crazy wheels...and I started to break it down, slowly but surely.
Some of my responses to certain scenarios and people are just flat out wrong and borderline committal worthy. I started to own all the examples of my crazy ass behavior. At the time of the events ... I didn't think my behavior was irrational. But in fact, my actions were that of a BAT SHIT CRAZY bitch.
I remember my eldest brother was being extremely supportive to me when I was pregnant. He would drive me everywhere and help me with basic errands that had become exhausting. One weekday morning, when he was off from work he was giving me a ride home back into the city (after I had spent the weekend at my parents house). I was riding in the passenger seat, we were heading in a direction that didn't please me. I thought he was taking a longer route and asked him to take an alternative one. He told me no, that makes no sense. And then I started to complain loudly, assuming he would change his route out of pure annoyance. He didn't, he just ignored me as i proceeded to verbally abuse him. I was literally yelling at this point, enough to have neighboring vehicles staring at the mad black pregnant woman. My brother told me to "hush man, relax yourself. you're pregnant" and that's all it took. I fucking snapped. As soon as we got to a stop light, I got out and left all the things I was bringing back to my apartment in my brothers car. He was in the middle lane... so my stride across on coming traffic to the corner wearing leggings and a long fitted sweater was shocking to a good few (at the very least). He yelled out the window and I walked away ignoring him. I had my purse, so I pulled out my phone and decided to call a cab. Mean while, my brother was stuck in traffic with all my stuff... totally bewildered at my fuckery. As the cabby pulled up to my apartment, my brother was patiently waiting for me out front and I thanked him calmly as if nothing happened. Yes, I may have been emotional because of my hormones...but that was indeed a true example of the range of crazy bitch I'm capable of.
Oh all the stories I could share in this one blog alone...it would shock a few people who thought they knew me LMAO. But I rather keep those safe, tucked away and far removed from all of you lovelies. But I still stand by what inspired my self assessment, I can't be with a man more than 25% crazy. You can only channel so much of that crazy to a good.... let alone a neutral place and I'm abundantly crazy at my 62% :-D.