If you’ve spent five minutes or even five days with me, you’ve probably reached the same conclusion as many others: something is definitely “off” with me. And you are right! While some of you are still trying to find a seat at the USA table of acceptance, I always felt like Kaepernick– stand for what? Pledge to what Allegiance? Believe in whose religion? I understand that we will never live in a world of equality. I prefer not to be a part of the masses. I don’t want to fit in the box everyone is trying to put themselves in just to be accepted.

When you aren’t behaving like the rest of the assembly line, society stamps you with a label. I get it. I’ve been called crazy more times than a deer in headlights. In a world that prizes polished surfaces and predictable patterns, “crazy” has become the default label for anything society doesn’t care to understand. It is a convenient rug under which we sweep the complexities of the human spirit. But if you look closer, you’ll find that the people we label as “crazy” are often just the ones who have stopped pretending that everything is fine and living in their truth.

I’ll take the “crazy” badge and wear it like a tiara. Because if the choice is between being a bit “unhinged” or being a “sane” person who chooses cruelty, I’ll stay right here in the nut house, thanks. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are the “good” crazy (like me, of course) and the “bad” crazy ( I won’t even give your president the satisfaction).

The “Good” Crazy vs. The “Bad” Crazy

Let’s set the record straight: there are two very different flavors of “crazy” in this world, and it’s time we stopped mixing them up in the same blender.

• The Harmful Crazy: This is the stuff society seems to tolerate way too much lately. It’s the calculated anger, the people who derive joy from tearing others down, blatant racism, and the cold-hearted lack of empathy that fuels every toxic comment section. That’s the kind of “sanity” I want no part of. I do not get a kick out of watching people suffering, bleeding, hurting, or crying for mercy or acceptance.
• The “Positive” Crazy (My Flavor): This is the kind where you have a heart of gold. It’s the “crazy” of someone who speaks out against a wrong when everyone else is staring at their shoes. It’s the person who is simply too tired to pretend to be a functioning robot because they’re busy fighting a battle no one can see.

The “Crazy” Powers You Didn’t Know I Had

Since I’ve already been inducted into the Hall of Weirdos, I might as well brag about the perks. Being “unbalanced” in a tilted world actually gives you a pretty impressive skill set:

• The Bullshit and Asshole Detector: When you aren’t obsessed with fitting in, you see through the fake “sanity” of others instantly. I can spot a mean spirit and asshole from a mile away now, even if it’s wearing a three-piece suit. I will shut down and remove myself from their presence before their energy entangles with mine. I don’t want any of that shit on me.
• The Emotional X-Ray: Because I feel the “world-hurt” so deeply, I can usually tell when someone else is struggling before they even open their mouth. My “crazy” is just high-definition empathy. Most people see a world that’s getting angrier and just shrug. I see it and feel like my soul is getting a paper cut. When you care this much, you don’t behave like the rest of society. You aren’t “normal” because “normal” has become synonymous with “indifferent.” When the world loses its way, the person standing still and pointing at the map is the one called lost.
• The Conflict Coward (And Proud Of It!): In a world that loves a good shouting and fighting match, I’m the weirdo backing out of the room. I don’t want to yell or fight ever again!. I don’t do the “tough girl” arguments anymore. Why? Because one, I ain’t built like that for real, and two, I know how much words can hurt. I’d rather be labeled “weak” or “unstable” than live with the guilt of crushing someone’s spirit. If being a pussy makes me a loon, call me Daffy the mutherfucking Duck.  My refusal to argue isn’t a glitch; it’s a feature. While everyone else is raising their blood pressure, I’m over here preserving my peace and keeping my karma sparkling clean.
• The Medication Marathon: Living life while your body is a chemistry experiment requires the endurance of an athlete. If I can navigate teaching a bunch of high schoolers that have no idea what their future holds in today’s society while my meds are trying to convince me I’m a cloud, I can handle anything.

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The Verdict: I’m Doing Just Fine

At the end of the day, I am minding my business and telling my truth. I haven’t harmed a fly. I haven’t gone out of my way to make someone’s life harder. I just feel the hurt of my culture and sometimes react to it with a bit more transparency than most. I don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of me anymore! You either love me or you don’t. I can care less. I know that I am genuinely a good person.

So, if you see me talking to myself, moving slowly, or refusing to join in on the latest bullshit, feel free to whisper, “There goes that crazy ass Tee”.  Just know that this “crazy” person is sleeping like a baby because my heart is light, my conscience is clear, and I haven’t traded my kindness for a “sane” seat at a table full of bullies and assholes.

Stay weird, stay kind, and stay “crazy.” It’s much more fun over here anyway.