The Sane Line
I told a friend today that I’m too sane. As in, too sane to be considered insane, despite always feeling crazy. He asked me how I define crazy.
We were talking about his recent break-up where his ex “went crazy.” I said publicly losing your shit because you’re drunk and hurting is different to the quiet suffering of not being able to grasp what is going on in your head. Feeling no separation from your mind. Being desperately and completely out of control. I said it’s the exact opposite of sane. But sane is something I can’t define.
We were in Argo Tea. I got the autumn seasonal special tea. When I ordered for my friend the lady thought I said “medium” when I said “mint”. We also talked about accents and wool sweaters and whether or not detoxing is a good idea.
I’ve always had this analogy that I explain with my arms, fingertips touching, elbows out. Sanity to me has been one fragile line (from elbow to elbow.) Now, I’m afraid I’ve been oversimplifying. I remember the clothesline my next-door neighbors’ family had growing up. They had one of those fancy straight-across clotheslines with five parallel lines. The thing was strong. It was green. The lines could hold our six-year-old little girl selves as we swung from them, our very own backyard monkey bars.
If sanity is not one line, but five, and mine is my old neighbors’ clothesline, the lines would look like this: one is missing completely, three are severely bent out of shape and one line is perfectly straight.
Once when we were swinging on them I lost my Minnie Mouse ring in the grass. I didn’t cry but I felt really sad. I always lose my nice things. Her mother said we shouldn’t have been playing with the line in the first place. She said the clothesline wasn’t a toy and we’d broken it enough already.
The thing still worked though. Even though we messed it up, the clothes still dried quickly when there was a breeze.
It got dark while we were in the café, early in the afternoon. Just like it did yesterday, but not the day before. We talked about this too, the clocks going back. What a strange concept this is. Like, how can we just decide to change the time? How an extra hour of sleep changes everything.
I bought groceries on the way home, yoghurt, chick peas and a boxed quinoa salad.
I’m not into the detoxing idea. Our body is a system that is set up to detoxify naturally. I do remember meeting two British girls in India, though. They’d travelled there specifically to do an Ayurveda detox program. They said their skin was so much better afterwards. Their minds, too.