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looks on peoples faces when I voiced my true opinions on stuff and could see how they were reacting to me. It was always "the crazy hippie girl rambling again" in which case they see me as no harm, or, "she is insane" and then they start to be a bit worried. A pleasant conversation turns to a forced exchange of words after you witness their eyes glaze over and their mannerisms become fidgets, while their bodies stiffen.

It was then I started to question my own sanity. I started to see all of the behaviors that I had always thought of as beneficial as insane. I started to crack up by seeing myself through society's eyes. Though I still didn't do anything about it. I would get frustrated because people would say "you are so smart.. And stronger than anyone I know.. Why can't you just think through it." And it would frustrate me because.. It was something I was struggling with too. Not to be all Tom Cruise about it but I too have ranted about the in necessity of psychiatric medication that alters the way that your synapses and neurotransmitters work, etc. Certainly not because I am a Scientologist (haha) but because I just think our bodies should have been designed with the capacity to deal with things without such helpers. Really it just boils down to it makes me feel weak to think that I need the help.

All through my life I have had, the somewhat narcissistic, thought that I was meant for more. Maybe not stardom or fame or riches, but more. I was here to open peoples eyes, or maybe help out an important cause. I started studying the zodiac and astrology and that just reinforced that belief. I have been gifted with talent in so many things. I watch other people struggle to do things that come naturally to me. I watch as people try to take on the world as if it is such a scary and confusing place, when to me it all seems so logical and easily explained. I feel that I have been gifted with such things for some purpose. I just haven't discovered what it is yet.

I now wonder if I am not quelling my chance for the greatness that I know is in me by letting my medication turn me into a version of myself.. with the volume turned down. I am still me. I still have these thoughts.. But my compulsion to shout them from the rooftops and paint them into a million murals is gone. Or at least slowed down. And that thought makes me sad. What if I were meant to be the next creative genius. What if the world would go through a great period of enlightenment because of some idea that I managed to get out there to be heard? And maybe the medication will actually help. Maybe it will slow me down enough to focus. Put a genuine effort into one important project instead of running around manic as hell and not getting all that much done. I guess I just push for the latter.

And here we are at the end and I still have not figured out my dilemma of whether I am crazy or just thinking ahead of the times. And now I am left wondering how I came off in this particular article. Did my statement about the stigma hold true? I tried to hold back the crazy a bit. Did it work? I only wish I knew.

Learn more about this author, Jessica Sullivan-Thomas.
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