A slow descent into madness in old-time Phoenix

Unless you're chillin' with your homies, possibly enjoying some delicious hot dogs and bologna, and have a thorough understanding that you're just kidding around, it's not very nice to call someone crazy, or insane, or mad. In fact, most younger people would just be puzzled if you used that term, it's so old-fashioned.

But I enjoy history, and reading old books, so occasionally I see the phrase "A slow descent into madness." And of course, madness, or mental health issues, are nothing new. We use much kinder and gentler terms now, but really it's all the same. Some people become disconnected with reality, or the reality that most people perceive, because to them it's the reality of other people that's insane. I'll see if I can explain, and no, I won't name any names, except mine.

I prefer to think of myself as eccentric (although I'm not rich), or maybe just slightly "touched". If you're a Western history fan, you know that someone who is considered that way is usually safe from being killed by Indians (at least that's the story I've heard), like someone who dances with wolves (although I'm usually around wiener dogs). My personal experience with madness has developed a deep empathy for people who struggle with mental health. I am, by the way, making a slow ascent out of madness, and writing in this blog has helped me for years, and continues to do so.

Sanity is a matter of perspective, and you can look to doctors to diagnose it, or police officers who make a judgement as to whether they're talking to someone who's reasonable or not. Speaking for myself, I'm inclined to be tolerant of people until they reach the point where they're hurting other people, then I draw the line. Driving the wrong way on the freeway is an example that springs to mind.

Madness is a frightening thing, and the thought of the number of heavily-armed people who can be triggered by just about anything, makes me sad. Of course, you can't lock up someone just because they seem to be crazy, that's not how it works in modern Phoenix. In old-time Phoenix apparently it was fairly easy to get someone committed, and the Insane Asylum had plenty of customers.

As for me, I learned my lesson many years ago when I made the mistake of admitting to a doctor that, yes, I've had thoughts of suicide. And, to be fair, everyone has, just like they might have had thoughts of moving to Australia, or getting married. And those are just thoughts, until a madness seizes someone, and they commit a rash act. My doctor gave me a frightened look, and had me sent to be observed at the local hospital, where I sat in a large room from noon until the wee hours of the morning, wearing pajamas that they supplied to me (yes, they provided meals). On my exit interview, at about 3 am, I knew that I had learned my lesson, and I was once again the rather bland person that the average person can recognize as completely sane. I had thirteen hours to observe people who would not be going home that night.

So rest assured that madness is nothing new, and that it's just a question of perspective. Thank you for descending into madness in old-time Phoenix with me today. Let's climb out together!

Chicken wing, chicken wing,
Hotdog and bologna.
Chicken and macaroni
Chillin' with my homies!

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