By my daughter, that is. I’m not going to name the specific disorder, but she also said that I was “delusional.” Now, I should mention that my daughter is 17 years old and by no means a mental health professional. But I am wondering if this new diagnosis might qualify me for disability payments of some sort.
I know, it would be better perhaps to have a real doctor diagnose me. But then again my daughter has observed me closely for a great many years. How long would a therapist “know” me before pronouncing any mental illness diagnosis — a few hours?
Of course, it is probably age-appropriate of my daughter to believe her father is mentally deranged. I remember thinking exactly the same thing about my father when I was 17. But of course these disorders do run in families and perhaps my father was just as delusional as I apparently am.
I’m not exactly sure what data my daughter is going on with this diagnosis — we don’t talk much. I guess she has heard me talking to myself or singing very loudly to myself or having long conversations with the only person I ever really converse with — my dog.
I suppose I am delusional. I do imagine that my dog Mac does talk back to me. But see, I know I’m just imagining, so that makes me not delusional, doesn’t it — just imaginative.
And perhaps a little lonely. I mean, I do have all of you to communicate with. And there are now more than a thousand of you. And that must mean something. Unless it means that I have attracted more than a thousand fellow delusional souls to my blog.
I will ask my daughter about that and get back to you as to your own mental health status. She is very intelligent and she will know without a doubt whether you too need the kind of “urgent help” that she thinks I need.
My daughter’s training in psychology consists of having watched every episode of the TV show “My Crazy Ex Girlfriend,” in which Rachel has discovered that she suffers various mental problems. The most recent episode we watched involved Rachel going back on her meds.
It’s a revolutionary thing, for a sit com to feature so prominently psychological disorders. Most sitcoms have been about the norms.
I’m not one of the norms, mentally, I am aware of that. My daughter is not completely crazy to think I am crazy.
But ironically I think crazy is a more appropriate way to react to a crazy world, don’t you? It is true that we have been brainwashed to believe some fantasies about life — first, there is a meritocracy that rewards hard work and good behavior, and second, that there is some kind of moment to moment assessment of our behavior going on that will be finalized in some sort of cosmic judgement after we die — these are the two main delusions we suffer from as a society — so anybody who walks around acting normal is completely out of their minds as far as I’m concerned.
It is my hope with the Dingle that I point out some of these various crazy things about the world, and remind you that you’re not crazy for feeling a little horrified and alienated at times.
And of course that we can smile together.
Is that delusional? If so, sign me up for an extra helping.