Thursday, July 12, 2012

Undiagnosed and Alive

I wonder why people so often want a diagnosis when experience is so much more interesting.

Imagine, yes, having a bi-polar relative or knowing a good friend who suffers from severe depression.  These are problems best treated. I talk not of them. I wish them well.

But those of us who are sort manic at times or fall into despair at times or are impulsive or compulsive---we just need to keep ourselves busy and not think about what these behaviors might all mean. There is no real logic to them anyway. Plus, we need these wacky energy flows to actually get things done. The self motivated man? Nah, he just has impulses that have to be acted upon. Irrational stirring. And this is fine.

There are people who want everything to be a problem and to have each one defined as such.  But remember during medieval times? There was the town lunatic, the local witch, the fool, the eternally sad, the forever lovelorn, the filthy guys, almost all of them who would not bathe, the lothario.  These people went about their lives, energetically in pursuit to express their “dysfunctions,” and so they carried on. 

Society would have you punch a clock, sleep normal hours, have some laughs but almost never any sadness, not get too worked up, unless it’s for lusting after consumer items or wheat packed foods, remain married, solidly raise children with little to no divergence and only take risks when you are certain that what you are doing isn’t really a risk, but a well planned  something-or-other that someone has already tested that worked out mediumly okay.

Isn’t that insane?

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